Artania - The Pharaoh's Cry by Laurie Woodward

Eleven-year-old Bartholomew Borax III can’t go to school, play outside or worst of all, make art... so he sketches in secret.

Artania - the pharaoh's cry

Eleven-year-old Bartholomew Borax III can’t go to school, play outside or worst of all, make art... so he sketches in secret. After he meets the skateboarding painter, Alexander DeVinci, they're yanked into another realm by a magical painting.

Their own world is nothing in comparison to Artania: a world with living paintings and sculptures. But Artania is on the verge of destruction, and Bartholomew's art is the only thing that can save it.

With Egyptian gods and goddesses at his side, Bartholomew braves battles, duels and skateboarding escapes. With his growing powers, Bartholomew is the only one who can defeat the evil Sickhert's army and bring art back to the world.

Genre: JUVENILE FICTION / Performing Arts / Music

Secondary Genre: JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & Magic

Language: English

Keywords: fantasy and magic adventures for children and mg, middle grade epic adventure novels for young adult, arts music and photography childrens books story, ya epic fantasy literature for younger readers 12, 13-16 years old fiction lit musical novel artistic, egyptian gods and goddesses egypt mythology myths, legends fairy tales contemporary coming of age boy

Word Count: 75007

Sales info:

Strong sales record.

Sample text:

The air was more antiseptic than usual that spring morning. Coughing on bleach fumes, Bartholomew Borax III rolled out of bed and put on his monogrammed robe. That’s when he noticed the strange noise.

He cocked his head. It sounded nothing like the usual sloshing mops or whirring vacuum cleaners. When Bartholomew opened his bedroom door and poked his head into the long hallway, a muffled wail met his ears.

“Hic-hic-hic-hoo. Hic-hic-hic-hoo.”

Pulling last night’s precious sketch from under his pillow, Bartholomew gazed at it for a moment. There three generations painted side-by-side. Although impossible, it was a dream he’d had many times. It would have been amazing, Grandfather, Father, and me, all bound in color.

Last night, he’d finally escaped prying eyes long enough for his hands to race over the page. While his pencil scratched furiously, the impossible took shape, and for a while, he lived in the dream.

Sighing, Bartholomew tucked the sketch in his pocket and patted it flat. With the forbidden art safe from snoops, he tiptoed down the winding staircase to the front parlor.

Book translation status:

The book is available for translation into any language.

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