In every time, in every place where the people are oppressed by a ruling class, there is a hero of the poor, an outlaw who rides outside the law and is yet its greatest champion. In old England it was Robin Hood. In Spaniard-ruled California it was Zorro. And here, in this unnamed kingdom ruled by a distant King and greedy Lords, it is Jackaroo. Jackaroo is the masked outlaw who rights wrongs, who saves true love, who comes to help the people in their worst times of need. Jackaroo is the name in every story, the hero of every tale. And Jackaroo, as Gwyn, the skeptical Innkeeper's Daughter, finds out, is not what he seems to be.
Nor is anybody, as Gwyn discovers. Not the imperious Lord who winters at the Inn, not the silent servant Burl, not Gwyn's missing uncle Win...and not Gwyn herself. Beneath Jackaroo's mask, she is able to do the things that a law-abiding Kingdom girl would never be allowed--but which Gwyn has always dreamt of: being the savior of her people, actively fighting the Lords' injustice as opposed to passively accepting it, finally free of stifling tradition for the first time in sixteen years. But there is a price paid for the wearing of the mask: the heavy responsibility that comes with being a hero, and the sacrifice of herself that Gwyn must make to become Jackaroo.
Jackaroo and the Kingdom are new but familiar, the feudal society vividly depicted and the characters sharply drawn and believable. Gwyn is strong-willed and far too intelligent for her position, Burl is steadfast and fully as intelligent beneath his slow smile, and Jackaroo--no matter which face he appears in--is the hero of every folktale. Voight's writing is compelling, making "Jackaroo" a page-turner to be read...and re-read...and read yet again.
It's that good.