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  • The White Fox Chronicles
  • Written by Gary Paulsen
  • Format: eBook | ISBN: 9780307804211
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The White Fox Chronicles

Written by Gary PaulsenAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Gary Paulsen

eBook

List Price: $5.99

eBook

On Sale: August 31, 2011
Pages: 288 | ISBN: 978-0-307-80421-1
Published by : Laurel Leaf RH Childrens Books
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Synopsis|Excerpt

Synopsis

The year is 2057. Endless wars have torn the USA apart and enslaved Americans to the CCR, the Confederation of Consolidated Republics. Growing up in the wasteland of war has made 14-year-old Cody Pierce wise in survival skills, and now he's the White Fox, rebel leader of the children's barracks in a CCR prison camp. Once he escapes, life with the underground teaches him new skills in weaponry and strategy as he plays cat-and-mouse with the CCR. Every day brings him closer to capture, as well as to his goal: to return and liberate the children he left behind.


From the Hardcover edition.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Fourteen-year-old Cody Pierce stopped hoeing the rectangular patch of dirt the camp guards called a vegetable garden. Nothing really edible grew in it anyway and the weeds could wait.

Something was up. He could feel it. The tower guards were standing at full attention and those on the ground were edging toward the main buildings.

The camp commander, Colonel Sidoron, burst through the door of his office, buttoning the shirt of his green army fatigues. An aide ran along beside him holding up a mirror. Sidoron looked in it quickly, ran his hand through his short black beard and then brushed the aide aside.

The lanky white-blond boy in the vegetable garden leaned on his hoe, watching the bustle through gray eyes.

A U.S. Army utility vehicle with a CCR flag painted over the white star on the door boiled down the dirt road toward the prison camp. It was followed by a transport truck and another utility vehicle.

Two guards ran to open the wooden gates. The three vehicles sped into the compound and stopped in a cloud of dust near the porch, where the commander stood waiting.

Sidoron threw out his chest and tried to act the part of a dignified leader as he made his way to the back of the transport truck, but his hurried step gave him away. He barked an order and the tailgate was immediately lowered. A soldier grabbed a small, compact woman by the hair and dragged her out of the back of the truck.

Cody could see that she was young and that she was badly wounded. Her long brown hair was matted with dried blood. There was caked blood on her face. One arm hung limply by her side.

The commander asked her a question that Cody couldn't make out. Apparently he didn't like her answer. He backhanded the prisoner so hard she fell against the truck.

The woman didn't cry out. Instead she slowly rose and faced her attacker in silence. The commander barked another order and the soldiers pushed the prisoner up the steps to the interrogation room.

Cody untied the dirty red bandanna from around his forehead, shook his unkempt shoulder-length hair and wiped his grimy face with the back of his hand.

He thought about the woman. While he admired her spirit, he knew that it was only a matter of time until they broke her. He'd been in this camp for eighteen months, ever since Los Angeles had fallen in 2056, and he'd seen plenty of hard cases reduced to quivering idiots before the CCR--the Confederation of Consolidated Republics--was through.

Still, he'd made it his business to stay on top of things and he wondered what it was about this particular woman that had them all so excited.

"Don't get too curious, kid. These guys don't play around.''

Cody shifted his gaze. Luther Swift was carrying a bucket filled with human excrement in each hand. It was his job to dump the makeshift toilets used in the barracks every morning and evening. In between he dug temporary latrines and covered them up again when they were full.

Luther was a nuclear scientist. He had been a fairly handsome man until the CCR gouged out his right eye because he refused to reveal the location of a nuclear research laboratory. In the end they got their information.

"You know me, Luther,'' Cody said, trying not to move his lips too much. "I mind my own business.''

It was against the rules for prisoners to talk to each other, so Luther walked on. Quietly he muttered, "See to it that you keep it that way. I don't much feel like picking up your pieces today.''

Cody started hoeing again. He thought about his life in the old days before the takeover and wondered if there was anyone he knew still alive on the outside.

The CCR had control of more than three-fourths of the United States and its members considered themselves intellectually and physically superior to all Americans. After all, it was their stockpile of nuclear and chemical weapons that made all this possible. By concentrating their efforts into misleading the people of the United States into believing that their motives were harmless, the CCR had been able to buy property and plant spies in strategic places until everything was ready for the takeover.

The first missile took out Washington, D.C., and most of Virginia. The President, Congress and the Pentagon simply ceased to exist. Without leadership, the states began to panic and one by one to fall.

The United States government had made it easy for them. Years before, the military had been cut back to a mere skeleton of what it had been during the cold war and the CIA had practically been disbanded. Never in their wildest dreams had the country's leaders considered the newly formed nation of the CCR a threat.

Bombings and mass murder had wiped out whole cities. Except for small rebel holdouts, the CCR had succeeded in reducing the citizens of what used to be the most powerful nation in the world to little more than slaves of the new republic.

Sidoron's prison camp was not unlike hundreds of others across the nation. There were twenty barracks inside the compound. One housed the commander's office and special quarters. The cooks, medical personnel and laundry were behind the office. Two buildings were for the guards, and the rest held prisoners.

Most of the inmates were civilians like Luther whom the CCR had left alive because they might have something valuable to contribute to the new world order. Others had been allowed to live to serve as laborers for the cause, but they never seemed to last long. The soldiers were permitted to shoot and torture them at their own discretion.

Then there were the children. One whole barracks was devoted to American children of all races. Not that they didn't shoot children too. But a few of the lucky ones were involved in a cleansing experiment much like the one Hitler had tried with the youth of Germany. They had been taken from their parents and forced to attend daily classes designed to brainwash them into the correct attitude about the new government.


From the Paperback edition.
Gary Paulsen

About Gary Paulsen

Gary Paulsen - The White Fox Chronicles

Photo © Tim Keating

“We have been passive. We have been stupid. We have been lazy. We have done all the things we could do to destroy ourselves. If there is any hope at all for the human race, it has to come from young people. Not from adults.”—Gary Paulsen

A three-time Newbery Honor winner, Gary Paulsen is also winner of the 1997 Margaret A. Edwards Award, which honors an author’s lifetime contribution to writing books for teenagers.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Writing is so much a part of the way I live . . .

Writing is so much a part of the way I live that I would be lost without the discipline and routine. I write every day—every day—and it gives me balance and focus. Every day I wake up, usually at 4:30 a.m., with the sole purpose of sitting down to write with a cup of hot tea and a computer or a laptop or a pad of paper—it doesn’t matter. I’ve written whole books in my office, in a dog kennel with a headlamp, on more airplanes than I can remember, on the trampoline of my catamaran off the shores of Fiji—it never matters where I write, just where the writing takes me.

Everything else I do is just a path to get me to that moment when I start to work. Sometimes I’m lucky and the living part of life gets folded into the writing part, like with Dogsong and the Brian books and Caught by the Sea and How Angel Peterson Got His Name. Those books were based on personal inspection at zero altitude, I took experiences that I had and turned them into books. I’ve spent a great deal of time in the outdoors, but not with the specific goal of writing about it later. I’ll be honest, though, and tell you that I enjoyed writing about those times as much as, if not more than, I enjoyed living through those times in the first place. I didn’t start writing until I was 26 years old. I look back now and wonder what I thought I was supposed to be doing with my time before that.

I’ve experimented with different voices and styles . . .
Sometimes the way to tell a story is even more important than the story itself. I’ve experimented with different voices and styles and genres over the years. The Glass Café and Harris and Me were born of the voices of people I could not get out of my head. Tony was a boy I knew back when I lived in Hollywood and Harris was a cousin from my childhood. To honor their voices, I wrote the books in very different styles. Tony had a fast-paced, breathless speaking style and I had fun trying to capture that on paper. And the best way to paint a picture of Harris was to detail all those crazy stunts of his.

Nightjohn and Soldier’s Heart were the result of studying history. Sarny came from the research I did in the National Archives when I stumbled across the Slave Narratives. And I discovered Charley Goddard when reading a book about the Minnesota First Volunteers. I hadn’t expected to find characters for books of my own when I started reading, but I could not shake them until I tried to figure out on paper what their lives must have been like.

I am still amazed by the gifts that writing gives to me . . .
Even after all these years, I am still amazed by the gifts that writing gives to me. There is not only the satisfaction from the hard work—and even after all this time and all these books, it is still very hard work for me to make a book—and the way the hair rises on the back of my neck when a story works for me, but also the relationships I have made with the people who read my books.

The one true measure of success for me has always been the readers . . .
People ask me about the kind of money I make and how many awards I’ve received, but the one true measure of success for me
has always been the readers. I give the checks to my wife and my agent keeps the awards for me. The only thing I have in my office, other than junk and work and research, is a framed letter from one of my readers. That means more to me than just about anything else, the letters
I get from the people who read my books.

Thank you for reading my books and for writing to me. Read like a wolf eats. Read.

******************************

Born May 17, 1939, Gary Paulsen is one of America’s most popular writers for young people. Although he was never a dedicated student, Paulsen developed a passion for reading at an early age. After a librarian gave him a book to read—along with his own library card—he was hooked. He began spending hours alone in the basement of his apartment building, reading one book after another.

Running away from home at the age of 14 and traveling with a carnival, Paulsen acquired a taste for adventure. A youthful summer of rigorous chores on a farm; jobs as an engineer, construction worker, ranch hand, truck driver, and sailor; and two rounds of the 1,180-mile Alaskan dogsled race, the Iditarod; have provided ample material from which he creates his powerful stories.

Paulsen’s realization that he would become a writer came suddenly when he was working as a satellite technician for an aerospace firm in California. One night he walked off the job, never to return. He spent the next year in Hollywood as a magazine proofreader, working on his own writing every night. Then he left California and drove to northern Minnesota where he rented a cabin on a lake; by the end of the winter, he had completed his first novel.

Living in the remote Minnesota woods, Paulsen eventually turned to the sport of dogsled racing, and entered the 1983 Iditarod. In 1985, after running the Iditarod for the second time, he suffered an attack of angina and was forced to give up his dogs. “I started to focus on writing with the same energies and efforts that I was using with dogs. So we’re talking 18-, 19-, 20-hour days completely committed to work. Totally, viciously, obsessively committed to work, the way I’d run dogs. . . . I still work that way, completely, all the time. I just work. I don’t drink, I don’t fool around, I’m just this way. . . . The end result is there’s a lot of books out there.”

It is Paulsen’s overwhelming belief in young people that drives him to write. His intense desire to tap deeply into the human spirit and to encourage readers to observe and care about the world around them has brought him both enormous popularity with young people and critical acclaim from the children’s book community. Paulsen is a master storyteller who has written more than 175 books and some 200 articles and short stories for children and adults. He is one of the most important writers of young adult literature today, and three of his novels—Hatchet, Dogsong, and The Winter Room—are Newbery Honor Books. His books frequently appear on the best books lists of the American Library Association.

Paulsen has received many letters from readers (as many as 200 a day) telling him they felt Brian Robeson’s story in Hatchet was left unfinished by his early rescue, before the winter came and made things really tough. They wanted to know what would happen if Brian were not rescued, if he had to survive in the winter. Paulsen says, “I researched and wrote Brian’s Winter, showing what could and perhaps would have happened had Brian not been rescued.”

In Paulsen’s book, Guts: The True Stories Behind Hatchet and the Brian Books, Paulsen shares his own adventures in the wild, which are often hilarious and always amazing: moose attacks, heart attacks, near-misses in planes, and looking death in the eye.

Paulsen has written a time-travel novel, The Transall Saga, which was named an ALA Quick Pick. And in the heartwrenching story Soldier’s Heart, Paulsen brings the Civil War to life battle by battle, as readers see the horror of combat and its devastating results through the eyes of 15-year-old Charley Goddard.

Paulsen and his wife Ruth Wright Paulsen, an artist who has illustrated several of his books, divide their time between a home in New Mexico and a boat in the Pacific. For more information about Gary Paulsen, visit www.garypaulsen.com


PRAISE


ALIDA’S SONG
“Readers will want to savor this stirring book.”—Starred, Kirkus Reviews

THE BEET FIELDS
“The ultimate coming-of-age story. . . . Exceptional and so heartbreakingly real.”—Starred, Booklist

BRIAN’S WINTER
“Paulsen crafts a companion/sequel to Hatchet containing many of its same pleasures. . . . Read together, the two books make his finest tale of survival yet.”—Starred, Kirkus Reviews

HOW ANGEL PETERSON GOT HIS NAME
“These episodes will not only keep young readers, of both sexes, in stitches, they’re made to order for reading aloud.”—Starred, Kirkus Reviews

MR. TUCKET
“Superb characterizations, splendidly evoked setting, and thrill-a-minute plot make this book a joy to gallop through.”—Starred, Publishers Weekly

MY LIFE IN DOG YEARS
“A treat to make Paulsen fans sit up and beg for more. . . . His writing percolates with energetic love.”—Starred, Publishers Weekly

SARNY
A Life Remembered
“A satisfying sequel. . . . It is a great read, with characters both to hate and to cherish, and a rich sense of what it really was like then.”—Starred, Booklist

SOLDIER’S HEART
“The novel’s spare, simple language and vivid visual images of brutality and death on the battlefield make it accessible and memorable to young people.”—Starred, Booklist

THE TRANSALL SAGA
“A riveting science fiction adventure. . . . Captivating.”—Starred, Booklist

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