Goblin is a unique heroine, and though we meet her first as an old woman, it is Goblin the child who will stay with you long after the book is finished. This is no rose-tinted World War 2 tale; we see Goblin’s life in all its dark horrors and miseries. It’s a book about being different, about finding your own family, about grief and loss and the power of stories in helping you escape the realities of a life that you cannot face.
I got water from tanks for people who were having a hard time of it, fetching and carrying until those demons were dead, then off we’d go, scootering around the street, looking for animals. Monsta and I, we’d sneak sneak sneak round the ARP wardens and cordoned-off bomb-filled streets picking up any pets we could find, searching for hours, peering in windows, breaking into houses, picking them up right off the street, chasing them, coaxing them if they weren’t of the disposition that would make them so inclined to come near us petnapping bomb-defiers. We’d make trip upon trip upon sneaky trip in and out of the danger zone with cats, dogs, rabbits and birds.
We rescued as many as we could. It was our job, me and Monsta, and we worked around the clock.