Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army

By Morgan Nyberg

Galahad Schwartz calls a South American jungle his home. His parents are adventurers and Nobel Prize-winning authors. But when they fail to return from an expedition in their hot-air balloon Galahad must leave the jungle to live with his grandfather in a North American slum. There he learns that the jungle and the city have some things in common!

Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army won the Governor General's Award, Canada's highest book prize.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morgan Nyberg
• Release date: Aug 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465759993

Morgan Nyberg

Reviewers have said of Morgan Nyberg’s Raincoast novels:"One of the best series in the post-apocalyptic genre, hands down.""An exquisitely formed vision of a broken world.""On a par with McCarthy's The Road.""The best I've read in a post-apocalyptic setting.""This book (Since Tomorrow) stunned me with its power and richness."“Far and away the best of its genre.”Before writing the Raincoast series Nyberg had been a poet (The Crazy Horse Suite), an award-winning children’s author (Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army; Bad Day in Gladland) and a literary novelist (El Dorado Shuffle; Mr. Millennium). He had worked and lived in Canada, Ecuador and Portugal. He was teaching English in the Sultanate of Oman when he felt the need to confront in fictional form the ecological crisis facing Planet Earth. The Raincoast Saga, many years in the making, is the magnificent result.

Book preview

Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army

Morgan Nyberg

Winner of the Governor General's Literary Award (Canada)

Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army

1

Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz and their son, Galahad, lived beside a river in the middle of the jungle. If you had been cruising over their house in a plane, you would probably not have noticed it below in the forest. You might have picked out the brown, curving river.

On a certain day, though (the day this story begins), there is one thing you could not have missed. A gigantic hot-air balloon stuck up through the trees. It was pink and yellow and orange. And if you had been flying low, you probably would have made out the name printed on it in shiny green letters: MERLIN.

On that day, in the tops of the trees near the balloon, spider monkeys dashed from branch to branch. They jabbered, squawked and pointed at the huge bright ball that towered above them. Thousands of hummingbirds plunged and darted about. Perhaps they thought the balloon was a giant flower crammed with nectar, because dozens of them fainted from astonishment and fell through the leaves like drops of dazzling rain.

Galahad Schwartz watched his mother, father and butler load up the big basket that hung below the balloon. Mr. Schwartz came out of the house carrying a television set. He struggled to the basket and set the TV in it.

Maybe it’ll work better up in the sky, he panted. They had purchased the television a few months earlier. It ran on batteries. Some Indians in a dugout canoe had brought it down the river from a distant trading post. But the nearest TV transmitter was two thousand miles away, so they saw no pictures, only a green and pink mess. Young Galahad had no idea what he was supposed to see on the screen, and he was quite happy with the colourful flickering. He turned the set on seldom, though, for he preferred to poke about in the jungle. He was a curious boy.

Galahad’s mother came out of the house carrying a bow and several dozen arrows. A large fishing reel was attached to the bow.

What are you going to do with this? asked Galahad.

With this bow and this fishing reel, dear, I will haul in our food for the trip. Giant Dactyls. You know what they are.

Sort of. Galahad knew very well what they were, but he loved to hear his parents talk about them.

Giant Dactyls, said Mr. Schwartz, are the largest birds in the world. They live their lives high above the clouds and only come down to lay their eggs. Actually, partner, they are not really birds. They are more like small bears with wings. Their meat tastes like bubblegum.

But Galahad did not know what bubblegum tasted like. He had been born in the jungle eleven years earlier and had never been to a corner store or even to a city. Once, his father had sent for fifty pounds of bubblegum. Two Indians had brought the gum, like the television, down the river. But the canoe had overturned in some rapids, and crocodiles had eaten the bubblegum and the Indians.

The butler came out of the house carrying something wrapped in a banana leaf. He gave it to Mrs. Schwartz. She unwrapped it. Homemade oatmeal cookies! Quig, how nice of you! She offered one to everybody and let Galahad have four. Then she wrapped them up again and set them in the basket on top of the TV.

Let’s see, she said. Bow and arrows. TV. Cookies. I think we have everything we need. Wait. Is there something missing?

Galahad ran into the house and came out with a guitar. He handed it to his father.

Ah! We almost forgot the most important thing of all. Mr. Schwartz leaned the guitar against the television. Galahad’s father had long red hair, which he kept out of his eyes with a green headband. His eyes were very lively and were the same colour as the headband. He wore a blue satin cowboy shirt and cowboy boots, which he polished every day.

Well, Galahad, he said as he walked with his son toward the river, looks like we’re about ready. They sat on the riverbank. He noticed a certain expression on Galahad’s face. No, not yet, partner. You’re not quite big enough to come along yet. But you will be next time.

Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz did not go on balloon adventures often. In fact, Galahad could remember only one other time. When he was five he had seen his parents float into the sky to try to discover the nesting grounds of the Giant Dactyls. It was a faint memory for Galahad, but his father liked to tell that story. They had discovered a herd of the creatures high above the mountains of Ecuador. The Giant Dactyls were beginning to migrate, so Mr. Schwartz lassoed one of the bigger ones. The Dactyl towed the balloon to the secret nesting grounds at the South Pole. When they came home, Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz wrote a book about what they had seen. They won the Nobel Prize that year for the most important scientific discovery.

So where are you going this time? asked Galahad. He felt a little angry about having to stay at home.

We’re heading for Africa, old buddy. Mr. Schwartz stood and began to pace back and forth along the riverbank. The Sahara Desert. You know why?

Galahad shook his head.

Well, I’ll tell you. What grows in the Sahara Desert?

Galahad remembered page ninety-seven of the heavy atlas in their living room. Nothing, he said.

Right! And how come?

Because there isn’t enough water.

Why is that?

"Because it