Introduction
When I was little my father, Paul Biegel, my mother,
my brother and I lived in a canal house in Amsterdam
in the Netherlands. My brother and I had a room high
up in the attic where in wintertime we would lie in
our beds listening to the wind howling around the
roof. Every evening when it was time to go to bed, we
would undress, brush our teeth and then cry downstairs:
“Daddy! Daddy! It is time for a story!” And then we
would jump under the covers and wait excitedly for the
sound of my father’s footsteps on the stairs. The thrill
we felt! We knew that soon he would come up to the
attic and tell us fantastic, spontaneous stories he had
made up just for us.
As an exercise to train his brain in fantasy, my brother
and I would give him two subjects to talk about – I
remember in one instance we suggested a doorknob and
a champagne cork. And he thought for a little and soon
had a story based around those two objects. But not just
an ordinary story: it was always one full of suspense,
excitement and fun.
And then he began: “Once, a family was celebrating
New Year’s Eve. As soon as the clock struck twelve,
and the New Year began, the father opened a bottle of
champagne. The cork popped, fell to the ground and
rolled behind the door. Father poured out the glasses
and forgot about it. But later, when everybody went to
bed, a mouse crept out of his little hole and bumped into
the cork. Just then he heard the doorknob turn slowly,
very slowly. What was that? A robber…?”
And this is how my father would conjure up a tale
out of nothing while we children slowly got warm
lying in our beds. I can still remember how our hearts
would jump and beat faster with excitement from those
bedtime stories.
And this book The King of the Copper Mountains is
also about the heart, because it tells how the gentle
and beloved King Mansolain, who is close to death now
his heart is failing and ticking too slowly, can only be
strengthened by a potion made from the rare life-giving
Golden Speedwell. Once a night, the Wonder Doctor
says before he goes off to find the magic plant, the
king’s interest must be piqued so that he will live until
morning – and what better way to do it than with a
rousing tale? So, on his travels, he sends all the animals
he meets back to the Copper Castle to tell the king a
story to keep his heart beating, allowing him time to
find and return with the Golden Speedwell.
My father wrote The King of the Copper Mountains
more than forty years ago. Being now over forty years
old myself, I still sometimes go back and read it, as it
has remained one of my favourite children’s books.
Soon, I will start to read it to my own children, David
and Laura, so that there will be a third generation of
children hearing the stories in this book.
Sadly, my father became ill last year. And unlike the
king in this magnificent book, I knew there would be
no Golden Speedwell to cure him and he passed away
in October 2006. I still miss my father very much but
fortunately I can still hear his voice in his wonderful
books, and the memories of his bedtime stories still
keep me warm – and my heart ticking – after all these
years.
—LEONIE BIEGEL , 2007
Copyright © 2022 by Paul Biegel. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
