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Quote by E. L. Konigsburg

Work

The View from Saturday

The View from Saturday is a children's novel by E.L. Konigsburg that follows the story of four sixth-graders—Noah, Nadia, Ethan, and Julian—who become teammates for their school's Academic Bowl competition. Under the guidance of their teacher, Mrs. Olinski, the team develops a remarkable synergy, winning matches through their collective knowledge and deep understanding of one another. The narrative alternates between the present-day quiz bowl contests and flashbacks that reveal how each child's individual experiences and personal challenges have shaped their character and contributed to their unique bond. The book explores themes of friendship, cooperation, and the value of diverse perspectives, culminating in a heartwarming story about the power of teamwork and mutual respect. more

Author

E. L. Konigsburg
E. L. Konigsburg

E. L. Konigsburg was an esteemed American children's literature author, born on February 10, 1930, and passed away on April 19, 2013. Her works are known for their profound themes and unique narrative style, which have won her widespread acclaim. more

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“Norah looked at her son’s tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people – where? she could not remember this either – who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.”

“Her voice, high and clear, moved through the leaves, through the sunlight. It splashed onto the gravel, the grass. He imagined the notes falling into the air like stones into water, rippling the invisible surface of the world. Waves of sound, waves of light: his father had tried to pin everything down, but the world was fluid and could not be contained.”

“After a while it occurred to me that between the covers of each of those books lay a boundless universe waiting to be discovered while beyond those walls, in the outside world, people allowed life to pass by in afternoons of football and radio soaps, content to do little more than gaze at their navels.”

“As it unfolded, the structure of the story began to remind me of one of those Russian dolls that contain innumerable ever-smaller dolls within. Step by step the narrative split into a thousand stories, as if it had entered a gallery of mirrors, its identity fragmented into endless reflections.”