Technology in the modern kids’ book

As anyone who lives or works with children knows, technology is an integral part of their day (and night). And it’s cropping up more and more in contemporary children’s literature as writers portray how contemporary children live. Of course Mary couldn’t have texted for help when she was left alone at the beginning of The Secret Garden, any more than Five Children could have googled ‘It’. But today, children in books are not only navigating their way out of trouble with iMaps, and texting parents their excuses for staying out beyond curfew, they are actively using the Internet to seek adventure.

my embarrassing dad

My Embarrassing Dad’s Gone Viral! By Ben Davis, illustrated by Mike Lowery
Nelson’s mum has left, leaving him, his little sister Mary, and his Dad; and as a result Nelson’s life dramatically changes. Written as a series of vlog vignettes as if the reader were viewing Nelson’s videos on YouTube, this is Nelson’s hilariously funny account of what happened to his family.

Of course at the heart of the comedy is the extreme pathos of the situation – his Dad’s sadness, the change in family circumstance, and Nelson’s heartrending search for his mother, but because Nelson’s voice is brilliantly funny from the outset, and because he documents what happens to his father so well and in such a comedic way, this is a laugh-out loud book.

Nelson’s father decides to shake up their lives even more dramatically after his wife leaves, and they move house to the middle of nowhere, with no mod-cons, Nelson’s Dad banning TV, Internet, computer games and even buying a house with no plumbing – the toilet is outside. He takes up whittling as a way to earn money (having previously been an estate agent).

Nelson reports not only the hilarious consequences of his father trying to live ‘at one with nature’ in a Bear Grylls type parody, but he also describes viewers’ comments on his videos, repercussions at school, and the difficulty of making the videos (because of having to hide the equipment, but also the technical hitches).

His relationship with his sister Mary is both touching, and equally funny, as he explains her obsession with a cartoon called Peter the Pirate, and her reaction to sugar overloads.

It takes quite something to make me laugh out loud – this book had me crying with laughter. Delightfully, despite its happy and tech-embracing ending, it also extols the benefits of doing some outdoorsy stuff too. All in all, a very funny, entertaining read. Giggle your way through it here. For age 9+ years.

secret cooking club

The Secret Cooking Club by Laurel Remington

A technically reverse situation in The Secret Cooking Club, because it is the mother doing the blogging. In fact, Scarlett’s mother is a very successful blogger; her blog is about parenting and contains anecdotes taken from her daughter’s life. Twelve-year-old Scarlett finds this mortifying, to the extent that she has stopped doing any activities at school, and pretty much shut down her relationship with her mother to avoid any of her personal embarrassing incidents being related over the Internet.

Then, one day Scarlett discovers a gleaming kitchen in her next-door neighbour’s house – left empty when the occupant is admitted to hospital. Scarlett enters to feed the cat, and finding the correct ingredients on the work surface for delicious cinnamon scones, she starts to bake. Before long, her successful baking leads to a secret cooking club, and has consequences that will change her life forever, and in turn, show her the good side of the blogging world.

This is an intensely readable book, published at a time when baking is in the public headlights, with The Great British Bake Off leading the way. With warmth and mouth-watering descriptions, this is pitched perfectly at a young readership who may be unsure of their place in the world – one in which they have to forge friendships at school, and navigate through tricky family relationships.

A particularly poignant note in this book is the young girls’ relationship with the elderly neighbour, and the cognisance that the elderly need caring for and company as much as young people. For age 9+ years. You can buy it here.

bus stop baby

Bus Stop Baby by Fleur Hitchcock
So many connections are made and held today because of the Internet. When 13-year-old Amy finds a newborn baby abandoned at the local bus stop, she can’t stop wondering about the mother. Her grandmother, Zelda, a feisty loveable character, agrees to help her on her mission to find the missing mother, in return for a few favours of her own. And before long, Amy finds out that there’s more to her grandmother and tales of missing mothers than she had previously thought.

This is a gem of a book – it’s written with warmth and comes across as kindhearted and welcoming. There’s a priceless relationship between Amy and her grandmother that’s never too schmaltzy, but strikes a chord as being quite real – Amy doesn’t adore her grandmother – in fact she finds her difficult at times, but gradually as the story develops, she realises more and more that her grandmother is a person in her own right with a history, and relationships and feelings.

In fact it’s this startling awareness that sells this book. Fleur Hitchcock has drawn Amy perfectly – a young teen who is beginning to look outside herself, and beginning to realise that the world doesn’t operate in just black and white – that there is a great deal of grey space between what’s right and what’s wrong in certain situations.

The baby’s abandonment has resonance for Amy, because her own mother left her and her sister ten years ago, and the book explores the ability of the Internet to plug gaps or create them in modern life – from Amy helping Zelda to find old friends, to Amy talking to her mother in Australia via Skype, to trying to solve the mystery of the missing mother on the Internet.

With wonderful complex characterisation, and true-to-life emotions, this is a great story to provoke thought in your young tween or teen. You can buy it here.

Book of the Week

Podkin One-Ear by Kieran Larwood, illustrated by David Wyatt


If you want to buy your child a sumptuous book this autumn, which will inspire a love for storytelling, adventure and imagination, and one which has a wintery flavour, this is it.

Podkin One-Ear is a legend, a fearsome warrior rabbit with a reputation for fighting and winning against the Gorm (a dangerous and evil iron-flesh-clad rabbit breed that invades warrens and kills or captures those within). When a traveling bard arrives at Thornwood Warren on Bramblemas Eve, the bard is welcomed into the hall with its warming fireside glow and given food and drink in return for a tale of Podkin One-Ear. He tells the story of how the young Podkin fled his warren with his baby brother and older sister, how he lost his ear, and how he grows and learns until he is ready to fight back against the evil greedy Gorm. The bard’s version is not only enthralling, but far more realistic than his little rabbit listeners have heard before.

This is the classic story within a story – telling a fantasy tale of a family of rabbits turfed out from their home, seeking not only to escape the Gorm but to protect a sacred sword that bears good magic, and eventually to overcome the evil Gorm.

With influences of Watership Down (inevitable – there are rabbits on a quest against evil), and even Station Eleven (this is a dystopian future in which humans have clearly gone and all that is left is a landscape of scattered rabbit warrens, and travelling storytellers), this is a sumptuous tale that manages to pull on the emotions and remind readers of classic tales and classic tropes.

As well as the old traditions of storytelling (and Larwood intersperses the tale of Podkin with interlude chapters in which the Bard and his audience interact and discuss the role and purpose of storytelling), Larwood also introduces familiar traditional tropes from the human storytelling mould, such as there being 12 ancient tribes of rabbits with 12 handed down symbols (the magic sword being one of these), allusions to religion or a higher being (in this case a goddess), a warring balance of good vs evil magic, and the traditional make-up of families and the patriarchal royal lineage. All this adds to the feeling that the reader is digesting a classic tome.

If all this feels heavy, it isn’t at all. The bulk of the story follows three sibling rabbits, Podkin and his older sister and younger brother, as they escape from and finally fight the Gorm. The narration delves inside their heads so that the personification of the rabbits is complete, exploring their worries, fears, comforts and hopes.

There are familiarities for children too, as well as the old storytelling tropes, such as the hunt for painted carrots at Lupen’s Day at the start of spring, which of course parallels Easter egg hunts.

Larwood is particularly good on his observational details of his fantasy landscape. He insinuates that social skills are important for warren life – all those rabbits in such close proximity. He also, through various characters, makes poignant matter-of-fact philosophies on the painfulness of loss and death, and memories living on, as well as on bravery: “You don’t have to be brave or strong or powerful to do incredible things.” Larwood describes well the loss of Podkin’s ear and the aftermath of this loss, and Podkin’s observation about how quickly life can turn upside down.

Podkin is reflective without ever being insular, and is fully rounded – he bemoans the loss of his ear, and is bad-tempered, but shows depth of character in his recovery. His sister, Paz, is sensitive and empathetic. She makes astute observations about everyone they meet, most tellingly, with the ‘witch’ rabbit, Brigid, a grandmotherly figure who facilitates good magic restoring the balance with bad. Her relationship with the young rabbits portrays what the elderly traditional can teach the new upstarts, as well as pulling into the equation the benefits of folklore and understanding nature.

There’s some lovely language in the book, introducing vocabulary such as ‘scrying’ at the same time as playing with words to describe iron – a dangerous and evil substance in this fantasy landscape.

The storytelling is fluid, and feels like a cosy Christmas telling with interludes breaking tension, and the analysis of storytelling itself, which gives the book both a sense of history and depth.

Faber publishers have given this story the love it demands, pairing the tale with Wyatt’s beautiful black and white illustrations, so that every so often the reader is thrown into a whole page picture, showing depth and detail and throwing an added warmth and tenderness to some scenes, as well as displaying the Gorm’s menace in others. There are further nice illustrative touches – the constellations in the sky in rabbit shapes, the map of the landscape at the beginning.

But most of all, it feels as if there is a sprinkling of magic across this book. A modern, yet old-fashioned story that is captivating and comforting. Like a warm hug, this is a fantastic children’s book, with a cute little surprise at the end.

As the bard in the story says, “my bard’s memory filled it [the story] with little things that made it real. Everyday details. Feelings and sensations. Nothing but a piece of storytelling magic.”

For readers 9+ independently, earlier for sharing. Do buy it here.