I was trying to explain why Guantanamo Voices worked so potently for me to somebody and I think it centres on the inescapability of the image. If I weI was trying to explain why Guantanamo Voices worked so potently for me to somebody and I think it centres on the inescapability of the image. If I were to say to you, for example, the word "cat", it might mean a thousand things. A tabby, a grey, white, ginger; stood, walking, sleeping, whatever. Your idea of that word is yours and I can't ever quite know what that is. We'll have some commonality, sure (I'll say "cat" and you'll know I mean a "cat thing" as opposed to, say, a "hammer") but your image of the word is yours and yours alone.
But when it comes to graphic novels, we have to see what's there; the image becomes this dominant lens of interpretation; it is what we see and we both see the same thing and we can't escape that. And that's where Guantanamo Voices does something remarkable: it presents these awful, hideous, challenging, 'don't look away' stories, and it makes you see them. It makes you not look away.
And there's a lot here to not look away from. Guantanamo Voices is a collection of interviews with key players; the journalist, the prisoner, the social worker and more. Each interview is put together by a different artist, whilst Mirk's experience as a visiting journalist functions as something of a bookend. There's some savvy editing work at play here; the art throughout adopts a similar, cohesive palette, whilst the individual artist is still able to inject their own style and dynamism to the text.
An unflinching piece of work with some wise, transparent curation....more
I was intensely grateful when somebody mentioned this book to me because it covers a lot of areas I'm interested in. I collect a series of books set aI was intensely grateful when somebody mentioned this book to me because it covers a lot of areas I'm interested in. I collect a series of books set around Innsbruck and during many of the periods that The Lost Café Schindler covers, and I also write books with a lot of cake and food references in them. The story of an Austrian café and the lives that had wrapped about it was all very much up my street - and indeed it was. There's something rather moving and unusual here, and I'd recommend it in a heartbeat.
What also interested me here was the way in which this is written. Schindler hovers somewhere between family history and personal memoir, literary non-fiction and present day travel guide. It's an intriguing, intoxicating mix of form and style and sometimes it hits rather deeply. There is a lot here to read and reread in the hope that you read it wrong first time round and then, when you realise that you haven't, you read it again because you still can't quite believe it's true. Schindler's research is meticulous and rich, giving as much of herself to the story as she does with the information that she founds out, and you can almost feel her reactions in the archives or the reading rooms as she comes across something new. It's as much a journey into the present as it is into the past and that rather works for me.
My thanks to the publisher for access to the early copy via Netgalley. ...more
I've had a lot of time for Kirsty Applebaum's previous work, so when Nosy Crow sent me a proof of The Life And Time of Lonny Quicke, I was fascinated I've had a lot of time for Kirsty Applebaum's previous work, so when Nosy Crow sent me a proof of The Life And Time of Lonny Quicke, I was fascinated to see what she did with it. The premise is remarkable: what would happen if you could save a life with the touch of your hand -and what if it meant that you got older each time you did it?
I mean, what more of a hook do you need?
Lonny Quicke is a philosophical treatise on what it takes to love and lose and live. The people who can give life at the cost of their own are known as 'lifelings' and they can hear when something is about to die. The people of Farstoke hold a regular festival to celebrate these near-mythical individuals, praying that one will turn up for them when they most need it. And this year, for one family, one does...
Sometimes middle grade literature can pose the biggest questions with such grace, and this is one of those titles. Appelbaum writes with a almost avant-garde stylistic that I really loved. She lets the text do the work, embracing the potential of what the printed word can look like and how that can add to meaning. She lets it work and uses everything at her disposal to make it happen. It's a perfect book to share with young readers and talk about what a book can do. I loved it. I'm here for those books that test the limits of form and shape, always.
Get this one on your pre-orders. There's really nothing else out there like it.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy....more
I loved this so, so much. The premise is straightforward: details from Rembrandt's artwork on the left, details from Dick Bruna's work on the right. II loved this so, so much. The premise is straightforward: details from Rembrandt's artwork on the left, details from Dick Bruna's work on the right. Icon to icon, genius to genius. A small caption on the right provides some explanatory information and the occasional reader prompt, but mostly you're left to just embrace the dialogue inbetween the two pages. The call, the response. The question, the answer.
It's really beautiful, brilliant stuff.
As a big old nerd I also appreciated the citation list at the back which tells you where everything is from. Mercis have taken a delicious and delightfully wide approach and curated work from Bruna's early days through to his later. We open with a 1966 illustration from 'Cinderella' paired with Rembrandt's 'Marten Soolmans and Oopjen Coppit' (1634) and things just roll on so beautifully from that point. The central spread which sees 'The Night Watch' (1642) wordlessly paired with 'Miffy and Friends dancing' (2002) is stunning stuff. It took my breath away. It really did. ...more
Oh this is nice. Eland's carving herself something of a delightful and rather elegant niche here, discussing complex and often challenging emotions wiOh this is nice. Eland's carving herself something of a delightful and rather elegant niche here, discussing complex and often challenging emotions with a lightness of touch and a beautifully wistful style. Having previously looked at sadness in When Sadness Is at Your Door, she's now focusing on happiness and how it's been with you, all along.
There's a deeply philosophical edge here and I felt like this would pair well with something like The Yes, particularly in the hands of somebody skilled, for both books embrace the strangeness of knowing oneself. These are big and complicated emotions, even for adults, and here Eland delivers her message with an appealing, beautiful softness. Some of the sentences are complex, but there's a sense of reward throughout. This is a book that wants to be read languidly, so go softly, go slowly, go gently into it.
The artwork is a treat as well. Rich and subtle; her use of saturation really appealed to me as well. How does one draw happiness? Here she plumps for something round and rich and solid, coloured in a vibrant, unusual peachy orangey pink. (A precise description, I know, but I'll explain all in a second). It's a colour note that continues throughout the book, sometimes thinner and fainter or fatter and thicker and brighter until the colour almost neons off the page. Neon isn't a verb normally, but it is here. I loved the clarity of her vision, the way that she trusts the reader to piece the story together and figure out what's happening and trust in that.
A beautiful, wise look at emotions and one to treasure. My thanks to the publisher for a review copy....more
Some of the earliest stories I remember reading are myths and legends, and I rather love seeing them reinterpreted and remade for a new generation. AlSome of the earliest stories I remember reading are myths and legends, and I rather love seeing them reinterpreted and remade for a new generation. All stories are remade in the telling of them (and indeed they should) but myths and legends always seem particularly fitting for such a thing. We reinvent them, we remake them (a quick shout out here to the remarkable Wyrd Museum trilogy by Robin Jarvis: The Woven Path) and in reshaping the exterior, we reinforce the heart of them. Does that make sense? It's like the telling of it - the way we dress it up and present it to make it understood by our audience - makes that central point even clearer still. The story may be being told in 1820 or 2020, but Odin still hangs from the tree. Fire is still stolen from Olympus. Loki is still ... Loki. And so these stories endure, survive.
And in How To Be A Hero these stories thrive. I realised it when we got to the door of Asgard which has the message "Frost Giants Keep Out" and, underneath it, "Loki smells of PoOo".
I mean, perfect.
Weldon's well into her stride at this point and things only get better from there. We get a rich and boldly told story which sees a Viking thief team up with a trainee Valkyrie and a very talkative cup. Their adventure takes in the nine worlds and more besides; Vikings who dislike travelling minstrels, a familiar trickster God, and a 'not terribly happy at being disturbed' dragon. It is the first of a trilogy so while there's an ending, it's not as definitive as it might be. Having said that, I found every inch of this a treat and loved it. It is such a distinctive, fun effort.
I always struggle with age recommendations but if you have a confident young reader who still likes the break of illustrations every now and then (Katie Kear's work is lovely here!) then this will be perfect. I'd also recommend pairing it with some non-fiction if you can because Weldon picks up a lot of stories and ideas that a voracious reader would enjoy exploring further. There's a lot here to enjoy.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy. ...more
I've had a fair few 'meh' books over the past few weeks; those books that are the ones that sort of don't quite work for you, or leave you feeling a lI've had a fair few 'meh' books over the past few weeks; those books that are the ones that sort of don't quite work for you, or leave you feeling a little ambivalent about them. And that's fine - that happens. Sometimes books don't work for readers, or it's not the right time to meet them or find them, and sometimes you've just got to accept that this is how it is. And then I read The Last Girl by Goldy Moldavsky and I loved it. I'm always interested by books that try to do something different and find their own space in the world (there might only be seven stories to tell, but my goodness you can work how you tell it..) and The Last Girl does that in spades.
Let's set the scene: a prestigious school, a club, and a new girl trying to find a place to start over. There's complex, messy friendships; the dark spectre of privilege, pop-culture and a group of people devoted to exploring the scary side of the world. These takes the form of a club devoted to horror films and - no spoilers here. But it's the sort of thing that feels like it might become something of a franchise and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of more to come here. The framing conceit really is very good.
Though I suspect I prefer the other title of 'The Mary Shelley Club' (which should give you some idea as to one of the references here), I thought this was excellent. Moldavsky is a pacey, stylish writer and I loved how fiery and honest her work is here. People are real here - this isn't about smoothing the edges of people, it's about exploring them. And with that comes interest; a novel that's psychological, dark, and gripping. I loved it.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy....more
Vy's Special Gift took my breath away. I was offered a copy of it to review by the author, and the outline intrigued me so I accepted. The book itselfVy's Special Gift took my breath away. I was offered a copy of it to review by the author, and the outline intrigued me so I accepted. The book itself made me have a little moment because it's very, very good. There's something rather magical about Trinh's simple, genuine story, and when it's paired with the melancholic beauty of Shelvia's artwork, it goes somewhere rather special indeed.
Based on a true story in Trinh's homeland of Vietnam, it tells the story of a girl waiting in a line for free rice. As she waits in the long, long line, she expresses kindness and understanding to those about her - something that she's rewarded for in the story's conclusion. It's set during the pandemic and so the vast majority of characters wear masks, personal protective equipment, and also practice social distancing.
The book wears its morals very lightly. Trinh never heads down the laborious route of 'behaving like this is good!' but rather lets her story speak for itself. Textually, it's restrained and more powerful for that. Though there were maybe two or three words I've have deleted (I'm always one to push for less rather than more), I found the story an intensely elegant experience. There's something very soft, honest and beautiful about it.
Shelvia's artwork is frankly stunning at points, wedding the cultural touchstones of COVID-19 with a poetic use of line and colour. There's a moment of crisis within the story for Vy, and Shelvia handles it with such beautiful, subtle restraint. I'm always impressed by artists who know when to hold back, and this moment in particular was perfect. I loved this. It was so beautiful, so poetic.
I'd suggest Vy's Special Gift can be used in discussions about the pandemic, particularly for those who may be experiencing some nerves and social anxiety - the message of kindness, empathy and concern for others is a very relevant one for all ages. I'd also recommend it for people interested in picture book technique and style - I suspect there's an essay or two begging to be written here.
You can see Vy's Special Gift being read online here. Basically, I loved this. A lot.
I am (very) grateful to the author for a review copy. ...more
1. Having the fire on on a cold winter's day. Snow falling down outside, steadily, softly. A darkening sky. StDogger's Christmas by Shirley Hughes is:
1. Having the fire on on a cold winter's day. Snow falling down outside, steadily, softly. A darkening sky. Stillness. 2. Being under the blanket on the sofa, watching a classic movie. Something black and white. Toasty warm from top to toe. Heart, full. 3. Freshly buttered toast. Crumpets, perhaps. Golden, soft. Loveliness.
Every time I read it, I have the tiniest of moments. There's something in Hughes' style that gets me - that will always get me. She writes with such soft, gentle richness. Her artwork is full of life and heart (there's nobody else who can capture 'light' quite like her) and every single line sort of sings with this sense of movement. These aren't isolated snapshots of a distant life; these are moments full of purpose and drive. There's a before and an after. There's a story, even in the smallest of details.
A brief word on story. Dogger's Christmas functions as a sequel to Dogger and I'm always concerned about sequels because they can work to exclude readers who haven't read that which came before. We're in safe hands here, however (were they ever anything else?) because Hughes hints towards the prior text whilst never, ever, forgetting her readers which may have come to this first. Such a gift, such the mark of somebody who is very, very good.
This is a year where Christmas may be different for a lot of people. My thoughts are with you if you've been impacted by the everything of the past few months and if you're finding this time difficult. Books like Dogger's Christmas take on an extra special, beautiful resonance at this point because they stand as this sort of timeless symbol of who we are. We love, we live, we lose things, we find ourselves; we bond over the pages of a beautiful, kind and gentle book. Buy this for your loved ones, buy it for yourself.
Make your buttery toast, find your blanket.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy. ...more
There are a lot of new things in Luna Rae's life. New home, new school, new friends. It's a lot to deal with and the one she thinks might help would bThere are a lot of new things in Luna Rae's life. New home, new school, new friends. It's a lot to deal with and the one she thinks might help would be winning the school's baking competition with her mum. The only problem is that Luna's mum has disappeared...
Luna Rae Is Not Alone is something rather special indeed. You should be getting it on your radar now. This is such a gentle, wise and soft book full of advice and guidance for anybody going through complicated family situations. Luna is prone to 'catastrophising' - that is, to see the worst possible outcome in a scenario, and Webster handles her anxieties so beautifully and kindly. I loved it. It's the sort of book where there's a lot swimming underneath the surface and you just sort of feel it coming through, this sort of warm and gentle and soft honesty. It doesn't solve everything, nor 'fix things' nor does it wrap up everything in a neat bow. It just sort of goes 'look, this is life' and presents it to readers with such utter, gentle kindness. Beautiful stuff.
I also enjoyed how Webster handled the adults in her book. I think you can tell a lot about a book in the way it treats the adults and this is perfectly handled stuff. Adults have flaws, same as everybody else, and they're trying to make things work the best they can. Might not be the right way, might not be the best way, but they're trying and they're learning along with all of us. There's depth and texture in this book, everywhere you look.
February 2021, mark the date.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy. ...more
It's not often that I reach for the word 'luminous' to describe a book but then I read The Accidental and everything changed. This is luminous, this iIt's not often that I reach for the word 'luminous' to describe a book but then I read The Accidental and everything changed. This is luminous, this is airy, fiercely stylish writing, and it is full of a bright and unique beauty. I loved it, this story of the long hot summer where everything changes for the Smart family. A visitor arrives, her name is Amber, and she is here to make difference. Each member of the family will be changed by their interactions with her, and the way that Ali Smith capures them is so, so good.
Let's dwell on that notion of something being luminous for a moment longer, because I always think it's interesting to do that sort of thing. It's easy to throw it into a book review because it feels like the sort of space that should have such words. Luminous. Shining. Giving off light. And yes, The Accidental is set within one of those bright, burnished summers that Britain can quite perfectly conjure when the fates allow, but it also captures the quality of that summer through its stylistics. Smith cartwheels through a multitude of character perspectives, shifting style and tone and voice depending on who's talking and what they want us to know. Some sections come in sonnets that range from self-deprecating through to wry through to laugh out loud; others chapters render themselves as deliciously vivid teenage stream of conscious (some of the best, I think), whilst others just sort of kaleidoscope through reams of cinema and film references. Luminous. Every inch of it.
One of the things to mention as well is that it took me some time to read this, because there's a lot of it to read. That seems a slightly ridiculous thing to say, but let me explain (it'll make sense, I promise). A book like this is something of a web that connects not only to itself but things located in the wider world, both fictional and real. And so, for example, the pages and references to film connect not only to the film but also the story of that film, the moment of that film, the weight of it. A sentence, then, can include a thousand others. A word, a thousand worlds. The great joy of The Accidental is that you can pause from the book itself and slide through all those worlds (my joy, for example, over a reference to Burt Lancaster and Gina Lollobrigida in 'Trapeze'!) before coming back to the story of The Accidental itself. (But maybe, now that I think about it, you don't ever leave this story, and you're just travelling the web and the weft of this luminous world).
(I said I'd make sense. I'm not sure I have in the slightest!)
Perhaps the trick to The Accidental is to take a joy in just experiencing it. There's so much here to lose yourself in. So much light, so much style, so much, so much.
There's something intensely appealing about what Sally Nicholls does in A Christmas In Time, and that is to tell a really good story. It's something wThere's something intensely appealing about what Sally Nicholls does in A Christmas In Time, and that is to tell a really good story. It's something we ask a lot of people to do but not many people can deliver on. Telling a story is hard. Telling a story that has pace, roundness, accessibility, satisfaction, and some very delicious descriptions of food, is super hard. But Nicholls is good at it and this is such a solid, good treat.
A Christmas In Time sees Alex and Ruby head back into a Victorian Christmas to solve a historic family crisis. It's part of a series of timeslip adventures but able to be read in its own right (always a good sign) and reads in an immensely accessible manner. In terms of timeslip books, it's younger than perhaps something like the blessed Tom's Midnight Garden and Charlotte Sometimes and so presents a really gorgeous opportunity for readers building their confidence and skill in tackling bigger books.
I really loved this. There's very little here you can pick at because it's just all so well done. Nicholls manages to drop some nicely handled commentary on gender attitudes, whilst also making the historic seem intensely present. It's so very easy to see people 'from history' as part of that - cold, static and distant, but here they're lively and lovely and really rather wonderful.
I have no hesitations about this book, none.
My thanks to the publisher for the review copy....more
There's a lot to love in Kidnap on the California Comet. It's a richly adventurous sequel to The Highland Falcon Thief and I enjoyed every inch of it.There's a lot to love in Kidnap on the California Comet. It's a richly adventurous sequel to The Highland Falcon Thief and I enjoyed every inch of it. This series is starting to have such a gorgeous texture; it reads like a little bit like Agatha Christie, a little bit like an older Famous Five (but with a damn sight more nuance and tact), and a little bit 'let's all just go on an adventure' and I love it. It's a really strong series and the quality of it is marked: these are excellent stories, well told, and I rather love that. Good books, done good.
So! It's a sequel, yes, but Kidnap on the California Comet is infinitely accessible as a standalone novel which is - again - another mark in the authors favour. It's really important to make every entrance point to a series as accessible and as readable as you can, otherwise you lock readers out and I am not here for a series that does that. Leonard and Sedgman use structure as their friend here - we go somewhere, something happens, we return - and I love their confidence with it. It's a pattern that has worked for a long time in children's lit and it works, especially when it's in such good hands. The authors pull absolutely everyone they can along with them on the journey. No passengers left behind. Adventures for everyone!
A quick note of recognition as well for Elisa Paganelli's delightfully vibrant illustrations. She has a quickness of line and a lightness of touch that really captures the moment. Her artwork is lived, immediate, real - it's such an important part of these books. The whole package is just so good.
My thanks to the publishers for a review copy. ...more
Bessie Marchant always surprises me. You can often predict what happens with many of the books of this type from the early twentieth century because tBessie Marchant always surprises me. You can often predict what happens with many of the books of this type from the early twentieth century because there's a pattern, lord love them. Here's the pattern for a typical Angela Brazil, for example: somebody misplaces a will, somebody finds the will, everything's okay, we're all still posh. A generalisation, yes, but nobody loves a probate-themed plot quite like Angie. Bessie Marchant's version of this is a revolution. Big, small, bloody, political, in the middle of it, or on the edges, she properly loves them. Of course this is just a big metaphor for the benefits of the British Empire, and even if you're in Patagonia or Russia or somewhere that there's never been any vestiges of British colonies, there will always be some Hot And Noble (potentially impoverished due to the foul deeds of others) English Chap to help out our heroines.
Delightfully, The Most Popular Girl In The School is right up there with the rest of her work. It's not what I'd call particular readable (were I to be frank I'd call it a 'right state') but that sort of quality judgement is a bit sweeping on my part, because it totally denies the spectacular power of these books. The Most Popular Girl In The School seems to be a boarding school story but in fact, it's a story about revolutionaries in Brazil. Trunks full of cartridges end up at the school! The sentence 'To 50 cases of T.N.T sent as best Heather Honey, and carefully forwarded through usual channels' actually exists!! Mary helps "unmask the secret of her father's birth" which is 1920s children's book speak for 'don't worry, she's been a member of the upper class all along, that's why she's so great"!
Honestly, the hysteria, I die.
So, do I suggest you start your Bessie Marchant adventures with this? I do not. I don't think it's particularly 'good' nor is it 'coherent' nor is it, in fact, what you might call 'linear' or 'particularly comprehensible'. However it does have a particular appeal in that, I think, it's tied quite specifically to real world events. I came across Tenentism and the details of a 1922 revolt - which, bearing in mind that this was published in 1924, feels about right. Tell me again how children's literature isn't political. Go on. I'll wait.
I didn't think I enjoyed the Dimsie books. I have vague memories of reading one, many moons ago, and giving up within the first few chapters. SomethinI didn't think I enjoyed the Dimsie books. I have vague memories of reading one, many moons ago, and giving up within the first few chapters. Something about it simply didn't click and so I placed Dorita Fairlie Bruce as an author who just wasn't for me. I had no inclination to find any of her other books because that reading had left me so indifferent over them. That was then, however, in a pre-2020 environment where things like lockdowns and widespread shop closures didn't leave me grasping at great handfuls of books on the shelves while I can. I bought Dimsie Among The Prefects just before the second lockdown in the United Kingdom, conscious that I'd need something to distract me and consoling myself with the fact that I could sell it on after.
Reader, I won't be selling it.
I realised this somewhere about the rather spectacular first few pages which involve a chap scowling through his monocle (a+++ work DFB, keep it up) and then the even more spectacular chapters which follow. There's (view spoiler)[ a new girl prone to biting who promptly tests out her powers by chowing down on the beloved prefect (do not do this at home) who then resolves the issue by tying up the child. (hide spoiler)] Amazing.
My interest piqued, my hysterical laughter working over-time, I had no choice but to read on. And there's a lot here that's rather worth the effort. I knew of many of the characteristics of DFB's work here (the anti-soppists league and so on) but I'd never quite actually enjoyed it. And I did! This is great! Terribly eccentric and deeply ridiculous and then the ending throws in an absolute classic of the genre! I was so happy, honestly, this ticks all my boxes. It's very rich, rounded, and very classic school story stuff....more
This is late phase Angela Brazil and it shows: The School at the Turrets is episodic, disjointed and yearning back to something that was once very gooThis is late phase Angela Brazil and it shows: The School at the Turrets is episodic, disjointed and yearning back to something that was once very good but kind of isn't now. There's a lot of Angela's usual verve and style (she does like a good will based subplot) but it's all slightly subdued and somewhat problematic. And it's very quick! One thing happens then another one happens and then another; people are married off, parents reappear, family drama is sorted, and then bosh, we're off to the next thing. One for collectors and completionists only, I think. ...more
I know absolutely nothing about Elisabeth Morley, nor did I know anything about Girls In Green. It was one of those books that I picked up out of inteI know absolutely nothing about Elisabeth Morley, nor did I know anything about Girls In Green. It was one of those books that I picked up out of interest, attracted as much by that delightfully Robin Hood-esque front cover as I was by the fact that it was published in 1949 and thus at a key point for children's literature within the United Kingdom. This is the time of the century where the school story was, I think, starting to shift into something else, and so it can all be super interesting to see what happens and how people handle that.
So let me tell you this: Girls In Green is not without its faults, but it's actually pretty fun. The principle is fairly straightforward: a new girl joins, makes a hash of things at first, before realising she is a True Chalet School Girl. Wait, no, she's realising she's a true Southfield High School but it's the same thing. And what's more her name is Stephanie Hunt-Smith so she has the same initials and honestly, wasn't it always meant to be? Of course IMPEDIMENTA stands in the way (and no, I'm not referring to some unfortunately named middle) but Everything! Works! Out! For! The! Best!
(Ridiculous, yes, but I do love these books.)
It's also rather fascinating how much this feels like a book of two halves; a tautological way to express it yes, yes, but the best way to describe it. Several of the incidents are right of the Chalet School or Malory Towers but some of them - I'm thinking in particular of the plate being smacked on somebody's head with enough force to shatter it (!!!!) and the Headteacher's magnificently careless "Yes you are a bit spoilt" to Stephanie (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) - hint towards the more realistic edge and social immediacy that children's fiction was just about to embrace.
Morley's prose is rather stylish at some points - there's a delightful moment where she writes some siblings bickering that's done so well, I had to do a little double take at it, and later she has some other rather splendid one-liners. I always think with writing you can tell when something steps up to be Noticeably Good, and there's some really strong stuff here. I just don't think it's sustained throughout the book (the plot gets a little messy and things start to not make sense) but honestly, this is a lot of (slightly off its noodle) fun. I'd definitely recommend it as a later representative of the school story genre, and a marker of how much things were about to change for said genre.
What else do I need to tell you about this? Perhaps nothing other than the fact that the new girl is described as 'a cross between Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth' (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! x a million) which is an absolute FIRST for the genre. ...more
I first read the Drina series many moons ago and didn't really think that much of them. Though I devoured titles by people like Noel Streatfeild and LI first read the Drina series many moons ago and didn't really think that much of them. Though I devoured titles by people like Noel Streatfeild and Lorna Hill, the Drina books always felt a little bit more pedestrian to me. They were pleasant pedestrian, if such a thing could be, but they were definitely pedestrian. Enjoyable to read, but when you were done, you were done.
Ballet For Drina, plus a handful of other titles from the series, recently surfaced in a nearby shop to me and I picked them up - partially to see if I still thought they were pedestrian, but also to simply read something pleasant. Something simple. If ever a year demands such books to have their time, it is this. And so Ballet for Drina, Drina Dances in Switzerland (you know you're in a classic kid's series when you get to Switzerland my friends), and Drina Goes on Tour made their way home with me.
And yes, Ballet For Drina still had that slightly pedestrian edge to it, but it also had something rather wonderful and that was the bones of a very classic ballet story. Girl discovers talent, works at it, deals with problems in her way, becomes good. It won't reinvent the wheel by any means, but it does what it does in a real solid and rather satisfying fashion. I also found it pleasing that the difficulty of this path is emphasised: being a ballerina is not easy and requires sacrifice from all concerned. Yes, some of the moments are Slightly Ridiculous, but all good classic children's lit has that mildly ridiculous edge. We allow it because we believe in the world, and the world of Drina - even though it's full of balletomanes on every corner and she goes to dos wearing a little white dress with a scarlet capes (ugh, I love it) - is believable. It really is.
There's a lot here to love; it has that Blytonian quality of being almost grimly readable and accessible, and I think the earlier books where Drina is young, could still provide a lot of appeal for contemporary young readers. And that's because, in many ways, this is still a stone cold classic piece of children's literature. ...more
I'm always fond of finding school story authors who are new to me; it's a journey full of potential and hope and sometimes it works - as it did when II'm always fond of finding school story authors who are new to me; it's a journey full of potential and hope and sometimes it works - as it did when I discovered Bessie Marchant. Now, I appreciate that Marchant isn't technically a school story author, but rather a "LET'S GO EXPLORE THE EMPIRE GELS" kind of author but she does serve to make my point here and that'll do for now. Sometimes picking books up randomly - especially when they look to be 'your thing' - can be incredibly productive. Sometimes, however, it isn't.
And that brings us to Chester House Wins Through, a book strangely concerned with Talking About Things rather than Doing Things. There's "hysterical" twins who make everybody laugh and marvel at their foolish ways (the amount of Suppressed Laughter in this book, my god, get a grip everyone). There's a lot of girls talking meaningfully about things such as uniforms and hat badges and how this will bring honour upon the school, and there's this Head Girl who Sagaciously Knows Things But Nobly Looks Away Whilst You Cry Old Thing, and it's all sort of school story by the numbers without ever quite connecting. Nothing ever hits home (even the physical altercation between two of the juniors is resolved within a page) and so the overall effect is fleeting at best.
And yet there's some interest here because books like this are indicative of the position that school stories had back in the day and how that position struggles to deal with things like "the sixties" and "liberation" even though the girls inside the book are in a post-war environment and refer to the war and to rations. Even that's interesting because it suggests the key period for these books - they worked in the forties and they worked well. They just didn't quite work well here.
Also, they work even less with subplots involving 'somebody accidentally eating a whole dish of white sauce just to be polite'. I mean, you'd notice, right? You wouldn't just eat a whole dish of white sauce to save somebody's feelings? Would you? I mean, I don't even know if you literally even could eat an entire dish of white sauce without having to stop and - you know - visit the bathroom with immediate effect.
Honestly, this book. I'm going to have to go and sit down to get over it all....more
The first thing to recognise about The Monsters of Rookhaven is how beautiful it is. It's a really rather perfectly put together book, which is alwaysThe first thing to recognise about The Monsters of Rookhaven is how beautiful it is. It's a really rather perfectly put together book, which is always a good sign. It tells you that the publisher understands this book, that they know what they want from it, and that they know what the book can support. Packaging, artwork (Edward Bettison is playing a blinder here), even the choice of paper - it's all thematic: it tells us about what's to come. That suggestive lure on the shelf. That thing that catches your eye and makes you think 'this one's for me'. The Monsters of Rookhaven does that with such, such style.
And that style's not just superficial, it goes all the way through this and helps deliver a read of curious and affecting power. I am not the sort of person who picks up this sort of book (I just - I've never really been a 'let's read about monsters and the gothic' type of person) and so when the publishers sent it to me, I was doubtful. But then I was convinced, almost immediately, for Kenny's prose is strong and confident and wildly imaginative. There's elements here that remind me of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, yes, but also early 90s children's fantasy and in particular The Woven Path (the first of the remarkable Wyrd Museum trilogy from Robin Jarvis).
One of the strengths of The Monsters of Rookhaven is that it's a book with intent: you have the hoary old cliches of the gothic solidly inverted and tested and broken through with such determination, buttressed all the way along with that vividly soaring artwork of Edward Bettison. I wouldn't be surprised if there was something of a sequel on the way - or at least, something else set in that same world. I wouldn't be able to let it go easily, I know that.
There's a lot here that might scare particularly nervy readers (especially with the introduction of one particular character in the second half of the book), but Kenny asks us to look past that and see what and who people really are. It's a potent message and one that's done with a lot of style and purpose. Family is family; however, whoever, wherever and whatever you may find it. This is a stylish thing and one that has such a distinct air about it. It's worth the time.
My thanks to the publisher for a review copy....more
When I tweeted about reading this book, I said that Cynthia Voigt was increasingly proving to be all that I want from a writer. I'd written about my fWhen I tweeted about reading this book, I said that Cynthia Voigt was increasingly proving to be all that I want from a writer. I'd written about my fairly recent discovery of her work , a journey which had made me fall in love with her crisp and clean writing, so full of clarity and heart and texture at every inch, and I had realised that I would read more of her work. And so I did, for some things are inevitable and Voigt's writing makes me ache with an absolute jealous and love for it is perfect. I don't quite understand how she can find the emotional nuance of a moment and exploit it, so acutely, without you even noticing what she's doing. It is magic, perfect stuff.
I've read much of the Tillerman saga out of order, picking them up from charity shops and libraries as and when circumstance allowed. I'm conscious that there is an order but I rather love this way of discovering her world, of discovering the echoes within it. A name pops up that's familiar or a circumstance and suddenly the book becomes a panopticon and I'm stood in the middle of a moment seeing it from a thousand different angles. On a practical level, I'm dazzled by Voigt's efficacy and memory, but on an emotional level, I'm in the scene and living every inch of it.
What's particularly remarkable about A Solitary Blue is that it's a story of becoming, told in a way that I don't think many other stories are. Jeff's mother leaves him when he is seven and a half years old. Melody leaves a shattered world behind her: a boy coming to terms with the trauma of her leaving and, as we soon learn, her husband engaged in very much a similar state of affairs. But that's what Melody does, she leaves shards behind her and they cut. Jeff deals with this by withdrawing so far that he might be nothing more than a dot, until the world and his father and life and Dicey Tillerman start to pull him back.
Voigt has an eye for adolescence and for rendering the complexities of life with such a subtle, sure hand. There are great stretches of quiet here, punctuated only by the briefest and most telling of detail, and it's beautiful. I read this after Sons from Afar and found some sharp commonalities between the two texts; though Sons From Afar is later, it still has that nuanced, soft, gentle understanding of life and the problems it can throw at you. Of young boys learning who and what they are and what they can be, even when the world works against them.
A Solitary Blue makes me envious and happy in almost equal measure, and this series reminds me how painterly writing can be. Every time I find one in a shop, it shines like gold. ...more
I know Penelope Lively mainly from her remarkable children's books (The Ghost of Thomas Kempe is very indicative of her thoughtful, frnnk writing) andI know Penelope Lively mainly from her remarkable children's books (The Ghost of Thomas Kempe is very indicative of her thoughtful, frnnk writing) and I've been meaning to read more of her adult work for a long while. Moon Tiger is an excellent place to begin, for as I was reading it I was thinking of how much I envied every inch of it. This is a wild, beautiful, and rather ferociously elegant book, and it is impressive. So very much.
Claudia Hampton is dying. She is of a certain type of lady, redoubtable, fabulous, vain, complex, unknown, and she has decided that it is time to tell her history. She has spent her lifetime writing and so it is a fitting thing to do now that she has so very little time left. And so she tells her story: she spirals from memory to memory, from perspective to perspective, seeing things from one person's point of view and then another. A paragraph here, a paragraph there, and Penelope Lively giving us an absolute lesson in writing in the process.
Full of wicked, sharp humour, and desperate, utter longing, this is such a remarkable book. Everything is just there, almost mercilessly so, and rading it is rather like looking through a kaleidoscope and into the heart of somebody sitting opposite you. It's spare, straightforward, and rather more devastating at points than you can imagine.
I envy books such as this, because they define the idea of craft. Every inch of this feels almost three-dimensional, as though it's cut from marble or chipped away from stone. A block of something transformed into everything. Such skill, such craft. ...more
I wanted to enjoy this a lot more than I did, having seen something in the blurb and discussion about Celestial Bodies that appealed to me intensely, I wanted to enjoy this a lot more than I did, having seen something in the blurb and discussion about Celestial Bodies that appealed to me intensely, but it was not to be. I'm not quite sure why because there's a lot here to love and enjoy - writing that centres women's voices is to be celebrated and loved (and is, indeed, my jam) - but for some reason this didn't work. I couldn't quite work out whether it was the translation or the source text, or perhaps the soft similarity between so much of the prose (beautifully written but undeniably similar..), but then I had the Damascene revelation came that I was no longer enjoying it. I'll look out for more of Alharthi's work should it be translated, but this one didn't quite ever connect for me. ...more
Welcome to Your Period! is funny, frank and fearless and I loved every inch of it. Even though I'm roughly three thousand years old at this point (helWelcome to Your Period! is funny, frank and fearless and I loved every inch of it. Even though I'm roughly three thousand years old at this point (hello 2020!), it took me back to the sex education classes we all received at school. All of the girls were taken into a separate room (with our parents!!!) and told that lots of things would soon be happening to us, have fun with that, here's a tampon.
I mean, what was life? If only I could time travel back to that room of increasingly baffled children and give them this. Welcome To Your Period! is like a paperback big sister - it covers everything you need to know. Ir really does cover everything: there's information here on period poops through to how to manage your period while swimming. The information! The glorious, lovely, accessible information! And all of it madly, beautifully put together!
(I'm going to pause here to tell you and my librarian friends in particular, to stop reading this review and get a copy of this on order now. It is absolutely made for library shelves).
I also loved how this inclusive this book is. Jenny Latham's illustrations are a delight with their fat, luscious use of colour and detail. She depicts people of all shapes and colour, people with body hair, people with period leaks on clothing (! the frank delight of this book!) and smiling period undies with a delightful, thick roundness. This is fine inclusivity, and I was so pleased to spot this attitude throughout the book. It refers to "people who menstruate" and has a very welcome trans-inclusive attitude throughout (with specific advice given to young people in this situation). So good. Well done.
I'm grateful to Little Tiger (who are publishing this in the UK) for the review copy. It's a good, timely, important book and I'm pleased it's coming here. ...more
It recently hit me that there were still a few titles to do in my review of the Chalet School series and, that A Future Chalet School Girl is quite poIt recently hit me that there were still a few titles to do in my review of the Chalet School series and, that A Future Chalet School Girl is quite poor in every definition of the word, so where else to start but there? We all know this part of the series is not great, so any review of these books from this period need a star knocked off on principle. But then, there's an argument for whacking a whole ton of stars onto this book and that argument is this:
MINIBUSES.
There is not enough minibus content in children's literature and I, for one, enjoy detailed descriptions of sitting arrangements. And seatbelts. And hammocks slung between the aisles for the babies to sleep in. And how many miles it does to the litre (hysterically sidestepped by EBD who just writes "the man told him" and moves on). I LOVE IT. I love it because it's all so delightfully ridiculous. And the amount of drama that we get from it? Amazing.
The plot, for what it's worth, is thin. We're on holiday! A new girl randomly joins up with everybody for a couple of weeks and she has the most amazing connection to the Chalet School that you'll never guess (you will guess, you will adore it, you will loathe it)! An old girl cameos (who, what? oh my gosh you'll never guess where she lives!) and I am being mean here because it's all so silly but utterly wonderful at the same time. I love it, immensely, even when a recovering invalid has soup followed a jam omelette and washes it all down with a glass of milk yellow with cream (none of that meal is a good thing, none of it). It's adorable, but so, so dull all at the same time, which is quite the fascinating achievement in my book.
So, before we begin: I am no Alice scholar, nor am I particularly fond of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I enjoy it but it's never been one of thosSo, before we begin: I am no Alice scholar, nor am I particularly fond of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I enjoy it but it's never been one of those books that has particularly resonated with me nor left any especially life-changing effects. It is what it is for me, and it does what it does for others, and that's good enough for me.
I am, however, fond of those books that try to do something a little differently when it comes to theory about the totemic classics of the children's literature scene, and even though The Red King's Dream is both infuriating and slightly ridiculous, I am somewhat in love with it. It hinges on a simple premise, namely that the Alice books are embedded with a code whereby the characters within are caricatures of real-world individuals in Victorian England. Thus the Unicorn is Gladstone, the Gryphon John Ruskin, the White Knight Tennyson and so on.
It sounds a rather straightforward proposal but it's not without its flaws and there are a lot here. The "could this mean this" moments were probably the main offenders. You can read anything into anything if you try hard enough to do so. It doesn't necessarily mean it's there. (I'm conscious I'm being Quite Sweeping about semiotics and interpretation there, but forgive me, I'm soapboxing).
Anyway! I also struggled where words were revealed to be an anagram of somebody else's name but with several letters missing, or when a word can be an anagram of something related to somebody else, and this didn't make much sense until we figured out this! It's like the Da-Vinci Code but with White Rabbits, and I know that much of it works but again: it is possible to make anything work if you work hard enough to make it happen.
(I also had a few difficulties with "we found this mysterious item in this mysteriously catalogued and ordered collection of books could it be that we were the first to find it" attitude - last time I checked, libraries don't magic themselves out of nowhere nor do catalogues nor shelving systems. Librarians!)
However - and here's the counter-argument - I enjoyed this a lot and I think there's a lot here for other readers to discover, but I don't think it's quite what the authors intended. This isn't a book about Alice but rather a book about books themselves - what they make us do, what they set on fire inside of us, and the passions they unlock and the doors they open. It reminded me a lot of How The Heather Looks : A Joyous Journey to the British Sources of Children's Books. Both texts have this strange appeal about them; they are thin and they are flawed, but they are also kind of fiercely wonderful in how much they love their chosen texts and aren't remotely ashamed about that.
Sometimes the most interesting books that are out there tell quite a different story than the one they intend. ...more
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