Set on the Uintah-Ouray Indian Reservation, Circle Dance is a gripping story about love, loss, and the need to see beyond oneself. The Twitchells, a white family living on the reservation have provided foster care for a little Indian girl, Chipeta, since she was abondond as a baby. Twelve-year old Britta Twitchells world is turned upside down when Chipeta's birth mother suddenly decides she wants her daughter back. And there's nothing the Twitchells can do about it-at least that's what Mama says. But Britta figures she can do plenty.
Outfitted with a back pack full of oranges, a couple of canteens, and a pea-green army blanket. Britta takes her little sister and runs away into the red rock desert of northeastern Utah. An unexpected encounter with a diamondback rattler brings them home after just a few days, and Britta is forced to find new ways of dealing with her cultural prejudices as well as the inevitable loss of Chipeta. Along the way she comes to discover that , as her granpa puts it "Differ'nt don't necessarily mean worse. Sometimes it means better. Sometimes it just means differ'nt.
Circle Dance is a funny, honest, and deeply moving portrayal of a young girl's movement toward maturity. Though aimed primarily at youth, this is a book that the whole family will enjoy.
Outfitted with a back pack full of oranges, a couple of canteens, and a pea-green army blanket. Britta takes her little sister and runs away into the red rock desert of northeastern Utah. An unexpected encounter with a diamondback rattler brings them home after just a few days, and Britta is forced to find new ways of dealing with her cultural prejudices as well as the inevitable loss of Chipeta. Along the way she comes to discover that , as her granpa puts it "Differ'nt don't necessarily mean worse. Sometimes it means better. Sometimes it just means differ'nt.
Circle Dance is a funny, honest, and deeply moving portrayal of a young girl's movement toward maturity. Though aimed primarily at youth, this is a book that the whole family will enjoy.
