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igenlodeJudith lives in a dismal industrial town as a member of an apocalyptic cult, but that is the least of her problems. She is being bullied at school, her father doesn't seem to love her any more, and worst of all, when she speaks to God, God has started speaking back. And having access to divine powers, however much it may initially have seemed like the answer to her prayers, turns out to make matters much, much worse.
In many ways this is a classic moral tale of wishes that are granted and backfire, even though no actual magic (so far as we can tell) takes place. Her school teacher clearly worries that Judith may be suffering from schizophrenia, but this is left to be read between the lines; ten-year-old Judith has absolute faith, both in God and in her newfound powers.
Religion is a big part of this story, and while the cult are clearly drawn as pathetic and a bit deluded -- Judith's own mother died because she refused a blood transfusion, and their life's work consists of going round trying to distribute apocalyptic leaflets and knocking on their neighbours' doors to spread the word, even though the only people who are prepared to talk are those who are likewise lonely and damaged -- they are not the villains here. Indeed, they are the only family and support network that Judith and her father have, especially when the trouble at school starts to come home with a vengeance.
This is a brilliant and humane piece of writing narrated through the perspective of a highly intelligent, hugely imaginative child; the Land of Decoration in the title is both the model world Judith has created in her bedroom out of gleaned scraps and which she uses to work her miracles, and her idea of the afterlife in which she will be reunited with loving parents. The child's-eye point of view makes it possible for events to be presented on multiple levels, as the miracle in which we initially want to believe takes on threatening delusionary voices, and the ending really hits hard, as Judith waits for the end of the world to strike in the belief that only she can save her father, and we watch helplessly as she makes her choice.
Apparently the author herself grew up in a cult, and I suspect it shows in the sheer mundanity of their depiction here -- this is not an exposé of horrors and abuses, but an accepted pattern of life as ordinary and yet as alien to the reader as Noel Streatfeild's Edwardian vicarage existence would seem to modern eyes. We know that Neil Lewis is not actually going to kill Judith by drowning her in the school toilet, even though she is convinced that he is... but we also know that the family's social exclusion makes it entirely possible that a gang of boys can vandalize her home and get away with it. Meanwhile her teacher suspects she is mentally disturbed, her father thinks her claims of miracles are wicked blasphemy, and even the Land of Decoration is starting to take on a threatening aspect in her dreams.
Yet there is ordinary human hope at the end of the tunnel...
In many ways this is a classic moral tale of wishes that are granted and backfire, even though no actual magic (so far as we can tell) takes place. Her school teacher clearly worries that Judith may be suffering from schizophrenia, but this is left to be read between the lines; ten-year-old Judith has absolute faith, both in God and in her newfound powers.
Religion is a big part of this story, and while the cult are clearly drawn as pathetic and a bit deluded -- Judith's own mother died because she refused a blood transfusion, and their life's work consists of going round trying to distribute apocalyptic leaflets and knocking on their neighbours' doors to spread the word, even though the only people who are prepared to talk are those who are likewise lonely and damaged -- they are not the villains here. Indeed, they are the only family and support network that Judith and her father have, especially when the trouble at school starts to come home with a vengeance.
This is a brilliant and humane piece of writing narrated through the perspective of a highly intelligent, hugely imaginative child; the Land of Decoration in the title is both the model world Judith has created in her bedroom out of gleaned scraps and which she uses to work her miracles, and her idea of the afterlife in which she will be reunited with loving parents. The child's-eye point of view makes it possible for events to be presented on multiple levels, as the miracle in which we initially want to believe takes on threatening delusionary voices, and the ending really hits hard, as Judith waits for the end of the world to strike in the belief that only she can save her father, and we watch helplessly as she makes her choice.
Apparently the author herself grew up in a cult, and I suspect it shows in the sheer mundanity of their depiction here -- this is not an exposé of horrors and abuses, but an accepted pattern of life as ordinary and yet as alien to the reader as Noel Streatfeild's Edwardian vicarage existence would seem to modern eyes. We know that Neil Lewis is not actually going to kill Judith by drowning her in the school toilet, even though she is convinced that he is... but we also know that the family's social exclusion makes it entirely possible that a gang of boys can vandalize her home and get away with it. Meanwhile her teacher suspects she is mentally disturbed, her father thinks her claims of miracles are wicked blasphemy, and even the Land of Decoration is starting to take on a threatening aspect in her dreams.
Yet there is ordinary human hope at the end of the tunnel...