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delphi✓ kingstoken's 2026 Book Bingo: Figures Without Facial Features on the Cover
✓kingstoken's 2026 Book Bingo: Set at a School/University
The Whole Truth by Kit Pearson and its sequel And Nothing but the Truth are a pair of middle grade historical novels set in British Columbia in the 1930s.
The main character is Polly Brown, who begins the story age ten, relocating from Winnipeg to the Gulf Islands to live with her grandmother following the death of her father—an event that's the subject of secrecy between her and her older sister Maud. Shortly after arriving at their grandmother's, Maud leaves for boarding school, leaving Polly to adjust alone to her new life on a small island and deal with the carrying the secret by herself. The second book picks up a couple of years later, when Polly also needs to leave the island for secondary schooling and struggles to adjust to being away while more big changes come to her family.
I read a few of Kit Pearson's books as a kid, and when she came up in conversation recently with a friend, I decided to check out some of her more recent novels. I don't know how her older books would hold up to a re-read for me, but I ended up having a mixed reaction to these two.
They were largely pleasant reads. They're well-written, and if spending time in upper middle-class circles in 1930s western Canada appeals, there are a lot of detailed descriptions of clothes, food, and rural seaside life to enjoy. As someone with an interest in that part of the world but who doesn't have family history there, I appreciated this look into the period.
These books feel like they're in the tradition of Anne of Green Gables, Pollyanna, A Little Princess, Heidi, etc.—stories I associate with girls changing the world around them, whether through action or because of their positivity. But that's not really the deal with Polly, who's a very passive character and doesn't seem to bring anything unexpected to her new community. It's also not a Secret Garden or Goodnight, Mr. Tom situation where it felt like Polly herself was changed by her new home, aside from benefiting from more money and opportunities. Things just kind of work out for her while the least dramatic version of eventful situations unfold around her.
I think what particularly didn't land for me was this sense of complacency with regard to the arc of the moral universe. Polly is shown recognizing injustice and then just...never does anything about it. Her grandmother racially discriminates against a neighbour, and Polly disagrees but then lets it lie. We don't see her ever interacting with the neighbour, or even with the neighbour's son, who's a schoolmate. She has the instinct to give money to a homeless man, but then stops when her teacher scolds her and doesn't help anyone again. She never takes a stand or makes any sacrifice, aside from the one time when it's strongly self-serving, but other characters praise her for seeing the world clearly with her artist's eye, in a way that implies that just seeing is enough and that things will work themselves out over time (at least for those who happen to be the loved one of someone with money and property).
While I was reading, I often found myself thinking how glad I was that the author was avoiding the most predictable conflicts I kept thinking were coming, but by the end of the second book, I looked back and felt like something critical was missing. I don't need big culminating moments in historical coming-of-age novels—I absolutely love A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and could write a whole essay on how it shares a sliver of the same flaw but how all of its positives outweigh that for me—but I needed just a little something more to care about these characters and their fortunes.
ETA: Spoilers in the comments
kingstoken's 2026 Book Bingo: Figures Without Facial Features on the Cover✓
kingstoken's 2026 Book Bingo: Set at a School/UniversityThe Whole Truth by Kit Pearson and its sequel And Nothing but the Truth are a pair of middle grade historical novels set in British Columbia in the 1930s.
The main character is Polly Brown, who begins the story age ten, relocating from Winnipeg to the Gulf Islands to live with her grandmother following the death of her father—an event that's the subject of secrecy between her and her older sister Maud. Shortly after arriving at their grandmother's, Maud leaves for boarding school, leaving Polly to adjust alone to her new life on a small island and deal with the carrying the secret by herself. The second book picks up a couple of years later, when Polly also needs to leave the island for secondary schooling and struggles to adjust to being away while more big changes come to her family.
I read a few of Kit Pearson's books as a kid, and when she came up in conversation recently with a friend, I decided to check out some of her more recent novels. I don't know how her older books would hold up to a re-read for me, but I ended up having a mixed reaction to these two.
They were largely pleasant reads. They're well-written, and if spending time in upper middle-class circles in 1930s western Canada appeals, there are a lot of detailed descriptions of clothes, food, and rural seaside life to enjoy. As someone with an interest in that part of the world but who doesn't have family history there, I appreciated this look into the period.
These books feel like they're in the tradition of Anne of Green Gables, Pollyanna, A Little Princess, Heidi, etc.—stories I associate with girls changing the world around them, whether through action or because of their positivity. But that's not really the deal with Polly, who's a very passive character and doesn't seem to bring anything unexpected to her new community. It's also not a Secret Garden or Goodnight, Mr. Tom situation where it felt like Polly herself was changed by her new home, aside from benefiting from more money and opportunities. Things just kind of work out for her while the least dramatic version of eventful situations unfold around her.
I think what particularly didn't land for me was this sense of complacency with regard to the arc of the moral universe. Polly is shown recognizing injustice and then just...never does anything about it. Her grandmother racially discriminates against a neighbour, and Polly disagrees but then lets it lie. We don't see her ever interacting with the neighbour, or even with the neighbour's son, who's a schoolmate. She has the instinct to give money to a homeless man, but then stops when her teacher scolds her and doesn't help anyone again. She never takes a stand or makes any sacrifice, aside from the one time when it's strongly self-serving, but other characters praise her for seeing the world clearly with her artist's eye, in a way that implies that just seeing is enough and that things will work themselves out over time (at least for those who happen to be the loved one of someone with money and property).
While I was reading, I often found myself thinking how glad I was that the author was avoiding the most predictable conflicts I kept thinking were coming, but by the end of the second book, I looked back and felt like something critical was missing. I don't need big culminating moments in historical coming-of-age novels—I absolutely love A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and could write a whole essay on how it shares a sliver of the same flaw but how all of its positives outweigh that for me—but I needed just a little something more to care about these characters and their fortunes.
Polly followed Maud downstairs into a large, sunny living room at the front of the house. Off the living room was a verandah and beyond that was the road and the sea. The gentle swoosh of the waves mingled with the tick of a grandfather clock.
Polly examined every corner—there was no sign of a dog. The room was dominated by a huge fireplace, its stones blackened with soot. Framed photographs crowded its mantel. The furniture was worn and comfortable-looking. Books stuffed a tall shelf and more books and many magazines were piled on the floor and tables.
The grown-ups were gathered around a low table. A tall, strong-looking woman with a thatch of white hair burst into the room and crashed down a tray full of cups and saucers and a teapot. Then she gazed at Maud and Polly hungrily.
"This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Hooper," Grandmother told them. "She's been with me ever since I got married."
Mrs. Hooper rushed up to Maud and Polly and gripped their hands. "Una's girls!" she cried. "You're here at last!" She was wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron as she left the room.
The table was already covered with plates of food. Polly had barely eaten all day; for the first time since she had left home she felt hungry. The plates were full of small sandwiches and many kinds of cookies. A bowl of whipped cream stood beside a dark cake coated with yellow icing.
Polly climbed into a slippery, overstuffed chair. her feet couldn't reach the floor. Normally, she would have drawn her legs under her, but that seemed rude, so she stuck them out awkwardly. A milky cup of tea was handed to her.
"Which would you like first, Polly?" asked Grandmother. "A sandwich, a cookie, or a piece of cake?"
Polly couldn't answer.
"Try the cake," said Aunt Jean. "I made it myself. It's an old family recipe—whiskey cake with lemon frosting."
"is that good for Polly?" asked Maud.
"It won't hurt her one bit—there's scarcely any whiskey in it," said Grandmother, topping a piece of the cake with a dollop of cream.
Polly didn't know where to put her cup and saucer while she ate the cake. Grandmother took them from her and put them on a small table beside the chair. "Pull your feet up, hen," she told her. "We're not fussy here."
Maud gulped down three cookies and a huge piece of cake. Polly knelt on the chair and nibbled at hte moist, chewy cake, in between reaching over for sips of sweet tea.
"Now, girls, we have a few things to talk about," said Grandmother. "First of all, we must agree on what you will call me. You're my only grandchildren, so you can choose."
"'Grandmother,'" said Maud. "That's what we called you when we wrote to you."
"I know, hen, but 'Grandmother' sounds rather formal. What did you call your other grandmother?"
"'Grannie,'" said Maud.
Polly was beginning to forget about Grannie. So much had happened since she had died two years ago.
But how terrible to forget her! Grannie had looked after them since Polly was a toddler. She had been small and timid, so different from this flinty grandmother who was asking them to name her.
"How about 'Nanny'?" suggested Aunt Jean.
Gregor laughed. "That sounds like a goat!"
"'Non,' then," said Uncle Rand. "That's what I called my grandmother."
"I like that," said their grandmother gravely. "What do you think, Maud and Polly? Would you like to call me 'Noni'?"
Maud shrugged. "All right."
"What about you, Polly? Do you like that name?"
Polly nodded.
"'Noni' it is, then," said Noni. She put down her cup. "I want to tell you how very sorry I am about your father's death. I know you'll feel sad about it for a long time, but I hope that being a part of this family will help you recover from your grief. I'm also sorry we couldn't make it to the funeral. We would have come and then brought you back here with us, but then we heard Lydia Tuttle was in Winnipeg visiting friends. It made more sense for her to do it."
Noni didn't sound sorry. Her words sounded forced and she seemed relieved to have them over and done with.
Then she looked embarrassed. "You're living in a small community now, girls, where people are far too interested in one another's business. I'm afraid someone might ask you how Daniel died. You won't wan to tell them the truth, of course. I suggest that you simply say your father drowned. Don't you think that's best?"
"That's what we already say," said Maud. She looked straight at Polly as her voice rang out. "We tell people that our father drowned by accident, not that he drowned himself."
Aunt Jean gave a little gasp and Uncle Rand and Gregor looked down at their plates.
Polly's head whirled. That wasn't the truth either!
"Very good, Maud," said Noni. "I'm glad we understand each other."
ETA: Spoilers in the comments
