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    Eddie: The Lost Youth of Edgar Allan Poe
    Eddie: The Lost Youth of Edgar Allan Poe
    Eddie: The Lost Youth of Edgar Allan Poe
    Ebook167 pages1 hour

    Eddie: The Lost Youth of Edgar Allan Poe

    By Scott Gustafson

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    About this ebook

    A gorgeously illustrated glimpse into the mind of a young Edgar Allan Poe.

    When young Eddie is falsely accused of destroying the Judge’s chicken coop, he is given one day to find the true culprit. Guided by logic, but entranced by the poetry of the paranormal, Eddie seeks to solve the mystery, along the way meeting Captain Mephisto, a darkly unusual magician who has tricks up his sleeve—and maybe a demon on his back. With help from his Raven and the prodding of a mischievous imp, McCobber, it is no wonder that Eddie grows up to become a master of the macabre.
         Scott Gustafson crafts a finely wrought portrait that is both humorous and touching. Coupled with his stunning gothic illustrations, Eddie is sure to win fans young and old.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
    Release dateAug 23, 2011
    ISBN9781416997665
    Author

    Scott Gustafson

    Scott Gustafson is an illustrator whose most recent book is Favorite Nursery Rhymes from Mother Goose. He has also illustrated Classic Fairy Tales, Alphabet Soup and Peter Pan. Eddie is his first novel. He lives in Chicago.

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    Reviews for Eddie

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    • 4/5
      My son got this book for Christmas, but I had to read it first – because Poe! EDDIE is a mystery geared toward middle grade readers, and it gives a glimpse into what Edgar Allan Poe’s childhood might have been like, and how experiences in his youth influenced the stories and poems he wrote as an adult.How did a neighbor’s prize rooster and a cat end up inside Eddie’s pillow case, and stuck on the roof? Eddie’s harsh stepfather Mr. Allan only gives him a day to prove his innocence. With the help of his pet raven and a mischievous imp, Eddie sets out to solve the mystery.This book is a good introduction to Poe for young readers. The author Scott Gustafson also illustrated the book, and the detailed drawings are amazing. IMO, nothing too scary. A fun, quick read, worthy of the keeper shelf.
    • 3/5
      This book has two great things going for it... the subject of Poe and Gustafson's wonderful artwork! Both of which I give highest ratings! Gustafson is an outstanding artist and I have every book that I can find that is illustrated by him. Five star keepers every one! This is the only book I've read by Gustafson and it is a well done chapter book. The author obviously researched and provides the reader with the sad facts of Poe's humble beginnings and upbringing before branching off into fantasy and fiction.As the only child to a kindly, loving foster mother and a stern, impossible-to-please foster father, it is easy to see how a lonesome child would create an imaginary companion that only he could see or speak with - the mischievous imp. Young Poe is also an animal lover and his other companion is an actual crow (who also speaks only to him). I could not help seeing his imp companion as a metaphor for his father's legacy to young Poe... whether it be his fearful wild imaginings or simply a good imagination. Adults will not find it a stretch to attribute Poe's adult problems of melancholy and 'self-medication' also as a sad bequest of the family "demons." The imp appeared a substitute of a reckless and irresponsible father, while his raven companion might be the logical, level-headed father aspect. In the middle of the night, young Poe awakens having found that he has sleepwalked into the neighbor's yard. A great noise and clamor is coming from a sack hanging from the barn's weather vane which wakens all the neighbors. Eddie's own embroidered pillow case has been stuffed with his pet cat and the Judge's prize rooster and hung on high! And poor Eddie is blamed. Punishment is called for! But logic dictates that Eddie could not have done the deed. His foster father grudgingly gives Edgar 24 hours to clear his name or be caned. Luckily, Ed has the moral support and love of his foster mother and a family servant. He takes on the job of detective and works his way through to the truth -despite his fears- with both logic and heart. An admirable young man who acts in a praiseworthy fashion. No doubt young readers will root for young Eddie as I did :-)ps. While done in a different artistic style, Gustafson's illustrated full-color Peter Pan, Classic Fairy Tales, and Mother Goose are without parallel. Simply outstanding in every aspect and I recommend them to all -. be it individual or public libraries - without reservation!
    • 4/5
      Wonderful illustrations highlight this detective yarn with a young Edgar Allan Poe and his pet Raven. Fun.

    Book preview

    Eddie - Scott Gustafson

    IT WAS COLD THE NIGHT EDGAR POE WAS BORN. January 9, 1809, was bitter cold in Boston. The child’s parents, David and Elizabeth Poe, were actors, and acting meant constant travel. Touring the country, theater by theater, they might play for a night, a week, or a month, but then they always moved on.

    Edgar and his older brother, Henry, had been born into that theatrical life, much like their English mother before them. As a girl of nine, Elizabeth had begun her professional stage career. Petite and pretty, she was an audience favorite from the very beginning. David, her husband, on the other hand, was not so lucky. As a young man, he left the study of law for the love of the stage. Unfortunately, the stage, or more precisely the critics, did not love him in return.

    And then, there was the drinking. More and more frequently, just before an evening’s performance, an announcement had to be made. The part that was to be played by Mr. David Poe will be played by another actor instead. Unfortunately, Mr. Poe is indisposed this evening.

    Indisposed was a polite way of saying he was drunk.

    Sometime in 1810, David Poe deserted his family. History has no record of where he went or what he did, but at some point before he left, he must have paused to bid his sons good night. Through a haze of alcohol he swayed up the boardinghouse stairs, then on to his sleeping boys’ bedside.

    As he leaned to kiss each good night, a thing, tiny and quick, flitted from the father to Eddie. As it turned out, David Poe left his youngest son something to remember him by—one of his own demons. And the little demon, otherwise known as the imp . . . why, he was there to stay.

    There, in the dark, young Edgar’s new companion nestled close.

    Ahh, this is cozy, the imp purred. By the way, the name’s McCobber and ya know, Eddie me lad, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

    The imp snuggled next to the boy’s ear and pulled the covers up to his chin. Eddie soon learned that he and he alone was the only one who could hear or see McCobber.

    Life as an actress in early nineteenth-century America was already difficult enough for Elizabeth Poe, and the stress and hard times began taking their toll. Whether her husband had realized it or not, he had also left her expecting a third child. Somehow Elizabeth managed to keep working during her pregnancy and within a week of baby Rosalie’s birth, she was back on stage. By the fall of 1811, she was unable to care for all three children and work, so her oldest boy, Henry, had gone to live with his grandparents. Elizabeth, along with Eddie and Rosalie, joined a group of players in Richmond who were planning to tour the south that winter. She started rehearsals, but illness had left her too weak to take the stage.

    With every passing day she grew weaker, and on the morning of December 8, Elizabeth Poe made her final farewell. Homes were found for the now-orphaned Poe children. Henry would continue to live with his grandparents in Baltimore, Rosalie went to the Mckenzies in Richmond, while Eddie was taken in by Frances and John Allan of Richmond.

    John Allan had, at first, said no to his wife’s idea of bringing this three-year-old boy into their otherwise childless home. But Frances was very persuasive. So, on December 9, these two well-meaning strangers took home a young orphan named Edgar Poe, though John Allan never officially adopted Edgar Poe.

    McCobber, on the other hand, welcomed Eddie into his itty-bitty impish heart like a long lost member of the family. The boy was smart, quick-witted, and had an imagination that just wouldn’t quit. And Eddie responded. The pair became fast friends.

    As Eddie grew, so did the little demon’s influence. Everything the boy experienced—home, school, friends—all were seen through the lens of the imp’s slanted vision. Eddie’s world took on a decidedly McCobber tone. Monsters lurked in every corner. Teachers couldn’t appreciate his genius and jealous schoolmates hated him because he was too clever. The night wind moaned for his soul and dead branches waved him closer, waiting only to ensnare him.

    And then, upon a midnight dreary, everything changed.

    It was a stormy night, and Eddie and McCobber were well into their second nightmare of the evening when suddenly they were awakened. Years later, as an adult, Edgar the poet would write of it as a gentle rapping, but in reality it was more like a cold, wet thwack.

    The boy opened his eyes to see the black shape of a dazed bird, flapping helplessly outside his rain-splattered window.

    Grabbing a towel from the washstand in his room, Eddie opened the window and enfolded the wet, storm-battered bird into the soft, dry cloth.

    All the while McCobber ranted and raved, Stop! What are you doing? He fumed. Get away from that thing. Look at those claws! . . . And that beak—it’ll rip your throat out!

    Oddly, for once, Eddie paid no attention to his demon companion. Gently, the boy carried the slowly reviving bird in.

    NO! screamed McCobber. Throw it out, I tell ya, before it’s too late!

    Well, forevermore . . . , said the raven, not quite trusting his refocusing eyes. What’s with that little jerk?

    At that moment, two things became perfectly clear to Eddie. After all these years, somebody else had finally seen the imp. He wasn’t imagining it, and he wasn’t crazy. And the other thing . . . he had just made a new friend.

    The town, the street, and the houses were all dark and quiet, all except one. In the attic window of the Allan house, a candle burned as the young Edgar Poe grappled with a rhyme. His ink-stained fingers clutched a quill that scratched out yet another unsatisfactory verse, while his other hand propped up the head of the struggling poet. The wondrous words that had crowded his brain earlier that night were gone. They seemed to have slipped through his fingers and flown out the open window into the night, or at least, wherever they had gone, they were now beyond his reach.

    Just a few short hours before, he had crept up the stairs to this makeshift attic study for a nightly rendezvous with his imagination. At that point the words, his words, had come to him so fast and furiously that he had barely had enough time to scribble them down. The rush of creativity had made him feel as if he were flying. He had soared on the wings of inspiration. Every word that had flowed from his pen had felt absolutely perfect, landing with grace and beauty upon the white page.

    But now, as he read and reread those same lines, they stiffened, curled up, and died—becoming lifeless black squiggles on the shroud of paper. In disgust he ripped the offending scrawl from the roll of

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