The House with Chicken Legs

Marinka lives in a house that has legs. And not just any old legs – chicken legs. Every now and then, almost without warning, it gets up and walks to where it – and its inhabitants: Marinka, her grandmother and their pet jackdaw Jack – are needed most.

I was given a most insistent personal recommendation for this one, so came to it with few preconceptions. I thought the title cute and expected a story to match. Instead I got a book ringing with genuine pathos, beautifully and wittily written, that finds the humanity inside the magic, and which had a couple of shock turns in the middle that demanded a pause in reading to process.

That’s because the places where Marinka’s grandmother is needed, the places where the house with chicken legs takes them, are places where the souls of the recently dead need to be tended to, listened to and ultimately encouraged to accept that it is time to move on to the next stage in their existence.

Naturally this doesn’t give Marinka many opportunities to make real human friends. The house either doesn’t stay in the same place long enough, or it does, but the local children Marinka’s age are scared off by apparently witchy goings on. That leaves the dead for Marinka to try to befriend, but her attempt at doing so changes everything.

Drawing on Slavic folklore, the novel will be read by some children as a fun adventure. And by others as a poignant story about coming to terms with death, and an exploration of how love and friendship are never possessive, but often sacrificial. Not bad for a book with such a cute title.

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