illustration

A Visit to The Children’s Bookshow


Was it unfair to split the audience into cats (Judith Kerr) and dogs (John Burningham)?

In actuality, Nicolette Jones of The Sunday Times did point out the similarities between Judith Kerr’s work and John Burningham’s work. They both had huge success with their debut books, The Tiger Who Came to Tea and Borka respectively, and Nicolette Jones also showed the audience slides of the little detailed parallels between the two illustrators’ work – depictions of a cat and dog peeing, a baby in a blue romper – much to the amusement of the audience of school children.

This was on September 29th, at The Old Vic Theatre in London, where I was a guest at The Children’s Bookshow, a charity that runs an annual tour of children’s authors and illustrators around theatres and venues in the UK for schoolchildren.

John Burningham set quite a high bar for illustrators back in 1963 when he published Borka. Not only was he the first to win the Kate Greenaway Award for a debut picture book, but his was also the first children’s book that Jonathan Cape published. It wasn’t to be the last. Unique it may have been, but it also depicted a now well-worn trope in children’s literature – that of a child, or in this case a goose, who doesn’t fit in.

Judith Kerr’s Tiger also boasts enormous longevity, with its now familiar warm domestic scenes, and like Borka, shows great sensitivity in the emotions it depicts and elicits.

And whether it was discussing first signs of a promising career, their work, or their travels, both illustrators showed their warmth and zest for life in Friday’s conversation.

Kerr’s childhood has been well documented, most particularly of course, in her own novelised version of her life, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. She speaks about her escape from soon-to-be Nazi Germany, talking about the near-misses in life that dictate how the future turns out:

“I think of the people who didn’t get out who would have given anything to have a small part of the life I’ve had.” Her modesty glimmers through in every sentence as she speaks of the glare her mother gave her for almost giving them away to the passport inspector on the train:

“I wasn’t the most intelligent child,” she says, but she was clearly talented, for her mother had the foresight to save her childhood drawings, bringing them with her in a small suitcase from Germany.

Burningham too, has travelled extensively, although his journeys were mainly contained within the UK. The one place he hasn’t visited is the fictionalised place he references in answer to a well-worn question. As with many children’s authors, he’s often asked where he gets ideas from, and he says his favourite answer to that was the person who said, “If I knew, I’d go there.”

He may not have been to the land of ideas, but it certainly seems as if he has. His latest book shows the quirkiness and specialised way of thinking that many of the top children’s authors and illustrators possess. There is a purposeful naivety to his drawings, but also an idiosyncratic approach to the storytelling which enables him to see things from a different point of view – Mouse House explores the plight of a mouse family when a pest controller is called in by the human parents. The children of the house write a warning note to the mice, enabling them to leave before their execution. Of course, as with many children’s critics, Nicolette Jones reads into this the plight of refugees, perhaps echoing the experiences of Kerr, who is also on stage, recounting her refugee childhood. But it is this very quality that distinguishes Burningham’s work – the ability to read the narrative whichever way one is inclined.

For both illustrators, there is no end to the ideas they have, as proven by their prolific output. Whether inspiration is taken from true-life occurrences, such as Kerr’s father, who for a short time attempted to adopt a seal, retold more kindly in Mr Cleghorn’s Seal, to Burningham’s take on the world around us in such books as Whaddayamean, an exploration of arms control and pollution.

Both infuse their books with their own sense of humour, which comes across in conversation too. Be it stumbling into the illustrators’ world, or failing illustration class at the Central School of Art (Kerr is the latter), they both approach illustration as a privilege and an honour, and are delighted to still be practising the art – Kerr is 94, Burningham, slightly younger at age 81. They are both still working, and still promoting children’s literature, especially to the noisy and enthusiastic audience at the Old Vic, as Burningham says, “I don’t worry about the ideas running out, I worry about time running out.”

 

The Wizards of Once by Cressida Cowell


There’s so much chatter about ‘gender’ at the moment, so it’s liberating to see another children’s book with dual protagonists – a boy and a girl, both on a mission to overcome perceived ideas of who they should be and how they should turn out.

Set in a sort of long-ago Iron Age, in which iron defeats magic, and before the British nation has any sort of identity, this is tribal warfare in deep dark forests, in which warriors are pitted against wizards, and witches are a third tribe, perhaps extinct, but definitely most evil.

Prince Xar is a princely Wizard, whose magic hasn’t ‘come in’ yet, and is desperate to join his peers and brother in that attribute. Wish is a Warrior, determined to express both her independence and worth to her mother, the Warrior Queen. When tweens Xar and Wish meet by happenchance in the woods, both rebelling against their parents, it sets forth a rollercoaster of events and opportunities for both of them to prove themselves. Before long, it becomes apparent that the two tribes may need to come together in order to defeat a third.

Cressida Cowell is an accomplished storyteller, having risen to fame with her prior series, How To Train Your Dragon. Not dissimilar, this is a world teeming with engaging characters, effervescent humour, and hugely wondrous world-building. Cowell has a particular ability to pit deep questions alongside silliness and humour, so that readers are absorbing both with great delight. Cowell poses terrific questions such as, ‘what if what you had been taught to believe was wrong?’, and shows the reader how to see beyond someone else’s differences, as well as challenging perceived notions of upbringing and parents’ perceived perfection.

There is plenty to love. Both characters, being royal subjects, are surrounded by entourages – Xar’s is particularly large, and includes a bird with a screaming sense of when things are rebellious or wrong (reminiscent of The Lion King’s Zazu). Wish’s entourage includes a bodyguard who faints at the first sign of danger, and an enchanted spoon.

This kind of wackiness is enhanced by the purposefully haphazard illustrations (drawn by Cowell herself) that sit alongside the text, from the map of the lands at the beginning, to the various facial expressions of the spoon. The illustrations are scribbly and sketchy and give the impression of being spontaneous and highly creative, as energetic as the prose itself.

The pace is fleet of foot and unrelenting, and this new world is populated with a realm of enchanting and peculiar creatures, from slow but philosophical giants to sprites, fairies, and ogres, all with their own individual personalities – be it cute and small, or large and menacing.

But most of all, two things stand out. Firstly, Cowell’s voice, which is confident and unswerving, appealing to her young readers without didacticism or being patronising, but making them think. It also carries a humour and slight quirkiness, even posing the question to her readership of who this omniscient narrator might be within the story. And secondly, the emotional intelligence with which she writes her young characters – they are authentic in their selfishness and desires as well as their relationships with their parents and siblings, and yet courageous and resilient, adaptable to the changes happening around them.

If you buy a hardback copy, do look under the dust jacket for a rather shimmery surprise. Unfortunately though, the only fault lies also in the production. In my copy, the blackness of the background on many pages rubbed off on my fingers, leaving an inky residue, which meant that the book not only touched my heart, but certainly left its mark. For the younger end of the middle grade category – this is suitable from 8+ years. You can buy your own signed exclusive edition from Waterstones here.

Illustrating Politics

Chris Riddell was the Children’s Laureate from 2015-2017, and as well as touring the country and promoting children’s literature and libraries, he also writes and illustrates his own books. I’ve looked at the Ottoline series on here before, but wanted to draw your attention to two recent publications, which may deviate slightly from the ‘normal’ children’s books I like to recommend.

If you remember, there was a lot of chatter at the end of 2016 about what an awful year it had been, politically and otherwise. And the situation has become ever more unstable with the somewhat strange goings-on around us in 2017. So it’s an interesting, and yet altogether sensible premise, to have a book that mashes together political commentary with the goings on in children’s literature from the last two years. Riddell is, of course, as well as being a children’s author, the political cartoonist of a national newspaper, and Macmillan, his publishers, have released a book of his illustrations from the past two years – including personal musings, published political cartoons, illustrations from children’s books festivals, cartoons advocating saving libraries, and random images from children’s books.

Politics and kids’ literature? Do they go together? Yes, because one of the things children’s books do best is to provide a passport to the wider world – to get children to open their eyes to different things, be it how people lived in historical fiction, how other cultures live now, or just how other people react to events (both familiar and strange). The children’s books I’ve covered in the last six months have talked about politics, leprosy, bullying, refugees, outer space, Tibet, maps, depression, dressing up, the environment, the pleasures of doodling, butterflies and so much more.

So Travels with my Sketchbook is a complex book – it’s very much a testament to Riddell’s time as Laureate, and will be much treasured by people within the book world, but it is also interesting as a sign of our times, and a call-out to children to illustrate or doodle more, and so will be fascinating to see how it sells and to whom? Are we more politicised and more interested in children’s illustration than we used to be? I think we are. You can buy Travels here and Chris Riddell is kindly donating all profits to Booktrust.

And if we are more politicised, are our children? I would actually wager yes to this, judging by how many children read a newspaper, watch the news, or scroll through news items on social media, and by how aware they are of their rights. In which case, an interesting addition to their library would be My Little Book of Big Freedoms, illustrated by Chris Riddell.

In partnership with Amnesty International, this is a simplified text from the Human Rights Act. Each of the 16 freedoms or rights are highlighted with an interpretative illustration, from a polar bear hugging children to exemplify ‘togetherness’, to a rather beautiful elephant with a girl resting on his trunk representing ‘solidarity’.

The saccharine and rather over-simplified text takes on a more fatidic and powerful tone in 2017, seeing as we have a president whose finger rests on the twitter button, and a hotchpotch political situation in the UK. Illustration can be an outlet for those children who want a way to express questioning and even rebellious thoughts and feelings, and yet who cannot express how they feel about a political situation in an adult sphere or with the appropriate vocabulary, perhaps for want of anxiety about how their views might be taken. It may be that if our youngsters take such a book to heart, the next generation may turn out better political leaders than the current crop. To purchase, click here.

The Right To Fail

So recently, I was shown a TED talk all about how we (society) are letting down our girls by pressing on them the idea that they need to be perfect. We are enabling them to be scared of failure. We are not pushing our girls to take risks, to be brave. And we should be.

Then, two very different children’s books arrived on my desk, and yet they have something in common. They want children to be bold, to be brave, to experiment, to risk failure.

If Found Please Return to Elise Gravel by Elise Gravel
This amusing sketchbook shows the reader how to be an illustrator. In fact, Elise prefaces her book like this:

“I give myself the right to fail, to mess up, to create ugly drawings. I’m kind to myself.”

Pages and pages of full colour doodles and inspiration follow, as well as small snippets of stories, to provoke the reader’s imagination. There are some step-by-step guides, such as how to draw a hedgehog, but with a bit of perseverance, and a recognition that failure is an option, most of the illustrations are fairly easy to copy without a broken down guide.

But as well as recognisable hedgehogs, Elise also stimulates the imagination with her made-up creatures, from ‘floofs’ to the perfume-footed ‘woompus’. It’s a great example of how to start a character description, with some illustrations leading into textual explanations such as the ‘woompus’ being a “close cousin to the squirrel…he communicates with a little sharp cry that sounds like an angry baby.”

Each illustration is drawn and coloured with vibrant felt markers – so any child can copy, or take it as a starting gun for their own design. The idea is to stop the reader or young artist from worrying about whether what they’ve drawn is good or bad – it’s all about practising and drawing anything.

The joy of this book is that it looks and works like a journal – an organic entity, which aims to explore, humour, and tease the reader into keeping their own doodle pad – to experiment without risk of judgement, ridicule or failure. There are no blank pages within though – you have to buy your own blank sketcher for that.

With an attached elastic bookmark to keep place, this is a feel-good addition to any young artist’s stationery and book collection. Buy it here.

Rosie Revere’s Big Project Book for Bold Engineers by Andrea Beaty, illustrations by David Roberts
No child I know has failed to love Andrea Beaty’s cool STEM picture books: Rosie Revere Engineer, Iggy Peck Architect and Ada Twist Scientist – which manage to spin a cunning rhyme, promote women and diversity within science subjects, and tell a good story at the same time. This spin-off title takes the reader even further by offering interaction.

The activity book begins with a story – the background to Rosie Revere and the influences in her life. Most important is her Great Great Aunt Rose, who explains that success comes after a series of failures:

“Your brilliant first flop was a raging success.”

“Failing is just part of learning and the only true failure can come if you quit.”

The book then lists some treasure that the reader might want to collect over time to use in their own inventions, including nuts and bolts, pliers and yarn, and all sorts of bits from recycling or thrift markets.

As well as a myriad of activities throughout the book, such as directions on how to make a catapult, and making your own marble run, the book also explains that part of being an engineer is improving existing designs and models – challenging the reader to improve a bicycle for example, and also looking at world problems that need solving, such as lack of water.

The activities are interspersed with knowledge: information about real life engineers and scientists, the different types of engineering, as well as definitions of different simple machines.

There is plenty of space for creativity: the book poses questions, showcases inspirational people, promotes brainstorming etc. Being an engineer also involves using your imagination. And there’s a section on teamwork too.

The book is a great way to develop a child’s problem-solving skills, but most importantly it empowers a child to fail on their way to success. This is a brilliant book. You can buy it here.

 

 

Draw and Discover with Yasmeen Ismail

Mark making has long been an important part of early years education. As well as developing those all-important motor skills, (which strengthen the muscles in the hands to help children to write for significant periods of time when they are older), making drawings, scribbles and illustrations helps a child to explore their imagination. It develops hand-eye coordination, and also helps a child’s cognitive thinking – learning about the world, planning and experimenting. Confidence in drawing can lead to confidence in mathematical thinking too.

How often do we, even as adults, picture things visually? And for caregivers, marks can make a child’s thinking visible before the child can write.

So the new range of Draw and Discover books by Yasmeen Ismail are particularly appealing. The books help children to identify word meanings and express themselves. Each book is led by a different character – Rabbit, Duck and Bear – as they explore different concepts: big, small, empty, full, push, pull, inside outside, and also of course Happy, Sad, Feeling Glad, which provides space and ideas for children to learn about, give name to, and draw out their emotions.

I’m delighted to have a downloadable pdf for you today, from Happy, Sad, Feeling Glad so that you can have a taster of this marvellous new activity book. Just click here: Yasmeen Ismail Happy Sad Feeling Glad

With thanks to Yasmeen Ismail, pictured below with her real live cat! (thanks to Olivia Hemingway for the photo too).

Yasmeen Ismail in her Studio on 28.2.17

The Song From Somewhere Else by AF Harrold, illustrated by Levi Pinfold

This book came out in 2016 and rather slipped under the radar, but despite that, has continued to haunt me since I read it – in the same way that the song from somewhere else haunts our protagonist.

Frankie (Francesca) is out distributing leaflets to try to find her lost cat. But when she is hemmed in by bullies in the park, she is rescued by school outcast Nick Underbridge (the name is a carefully chosen clue to the later events in the story). Nick is ostracised in school, and smells slightly, but Frankie finds herself accompanying him home out of a sense of duty and thanks.

At his house, Frankie is drawn by a haunting and beautiful song, but she can’t locate where it comes from. She starts to spend more time with Nick, despite the worry that she too will be cast out at school because of the friends she keeps.

Gradually, the song exerts more and more influence and pull on her, and the story dovetails into part fairytale/part fantasy other world, as it becomes clear that the song originates from the dimension of another world – a kind of fairy tale world. With fairy tales comes danger and darkness, and Frankie’s friendship with Nick is tested to extreme limits when the two worlds collide.

The duality of the story is what makes it so special. The book is set in a time in which kids get on their bikes and ride to freedom, of lego and drawing, but also the internet and mobile phones, yet Harrold makes it feel sort of timeless. The effect of the everyday objects is to ground Frankie deeply in reality, within a contemporary story about friends and bullying, yet there are clear shadows of another world that seep into this – a fairy tale dimension that echoes the heightened emotions of our main story. There are both intensely dark and frightening emotions, and yet also visionary and pure and light overtones to this ‘magical’ dimension of the story. In this way, Harrold uses the duality of his fairy tale to mirror reality and his contemporary story – we all have the darkness and purity inside us.

Pinfold echoes this in his black and white illustrations – they are realistic in what they depict – the estate, a cat at night, Frankie on a bench, Nick’s Dad opening the front door. And yet, because of the shadows cast, the point of view from which the picture is drawn, the intensity of the pencil lines, and yes, more by what is hidden than what is shown – they are deeply dark and disturbing – mysterious and haunting. They feel slippery and ethereal.

The text too – telling a compelling story of friendship in a lyrical way – there is comedy and poetry mixed with darkness. Its evocative and ghostly. Each word is carefully chosen – it’s minimal, and pure.

But most of all, all this combines to make a text that is easy to read, and scattered with illustrations. In fact, the reader devours the book – identifying with the choices Frankie makes about friendship, and her conflicts within herself – especially when she is drawn to a song but can’t quite work out what it is or what it represents. It implies a feeling of loss and absence throughout, and leaves the reader with a sense of bittersweet sadness, as well as uplifting lightness.

This is a great book for deciphering and picking apart friendships – understanding not only who we choose to be friends with, but also how we demonstrate our loyalty to our friends, and how we come to understand them. It’s a shame that it hasn’t been picked up by award lists…this is a hidden gem – perhaps it needs to come out of its own shadows.

Suitable for 9+ years. You can buy it here.

The Bookshop Girl by Sylvia Bishop, illustrated by Ashley King

So there’s chocolate and there’s books. Two favourite things of mine. Sylvia Bishop clearly feels the same for she has transplanted the idea of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory into a book about bookshops.

Property Jones was left in the lost property cupboard of a bookshop when she was just five. Now she lives with the owners – a mother and her son. She loves living there, with her adopted family, but as was the case with Charlie Bucket and his family, they are impoverished. And Property is impoverished in more than one way, for she is harbouring a terrible secret – she is illiterate and cannot admit it.

And then, fortunes appear to change when the family win a competition to own Montgomery’s Emporium of Reading Delights, perhaps the greatest bookshop in the world. The shop smells of books, the rooms are themed on a grand scale: a dictionaries room in which everything has a brown tag label; the room of knights and castles books with stone walls and tapestries, books of woodland tales in a room in which the floor is covered with pine needles – and so on, all operated with a series of levers and pulleys – stacks of rooms in loops.

But with more power comes more responsibility, and possibly great danger, not in terms of the grumpy cat who resides there, but the grey man who lurks mysteriously in the shop.

This is an old-fashioned adventure story, wrapped up in the fantastical delight of limitless imagination. There are forgeries and baddies, befuddled old gentlemen and oddball cats, and children seeing and doing more than the adults. But above all, a shining colourful adoration for books.

The ultimate message is one of honesty – being true to yourself and others, and seeing what’s true and what isn’t. What message could be more pertinent in this era of fakery and falsification? And most of all the text and characters feel fresh; the premise may not be new, but it has been executed as if it is – the prose reads freely, the plot moves like liquid gold. If I was seven again this is the book that would make me fall in love with reading. And bookshops.

I was sent this book to review in the early proof stages, but have been promised (and given a sneak peek) of the illustrations that will embellish the book. I have no doubt that they too will be as exquisite as the text.

Don’t miss out – this could be your child’s golden ticket to a lifelong love of books. Suitable for age 6+ years.

You can buy your own golden ticket/bookshop girl here.

Illustrative Wonders

hello-mr-dodo

Hello, Mr Dodo by Nicholas John Frith
Frith’s second picture book arrived in September, just as he picked up the Klaus Flugge Prize for most promising newcomer to children’s picture book illustration for Hector and Hummingbird. With the same technique and a similar style, Hello Mr Dodo! also comes across as being thoroughly nostalgic in look and tone, as well as startlingly fresh and new.

Hello, Mr Dodo! uses a colour palate that looks decidedly retro, with its bright orange front cover contrasting with the blue line boundary, but also the vividly crayon-esque inside, which depicts a house and garden in bright yellow and orange. Already warmed by the illustrations, the reader is tickled by the text, which smiles from the first sentence:

“Martha was cuckoo about birds.”

Cleverly considered, this little girl’s retro name matches the illustrations, and the joke is tucked in for charm. Martha is lovable. She talks to the birds every morning, but then the author uses a typical story construct to add in the excitement – one morning she spies something new with her binoculars. It is the biggest bird Martha has ever seen.

She finds out more by looking in her books – which Frith illustrates in black and white for the reader to see – slotting in much non-fiction about the Dodo. Nestling behind the enlarged pages of the reference book though, is Martha in her bedroom. And this is where Frith shines too – for his attention to detail is exemplary. Martha has modern ‘bird-shaped’ slippers, but a retro trio of flying ducks on her wall. She has bird skeletons and anatomy drawings, but also arrows poking from her toybox, a kite and skipping rope too.

She keeps the Dodo secret, until one day, her secret slips out. The worry on Martha’s face as she scoots to find her Dodo is lusciously drawn, but readers shouldn’t worry too much – the ending not only illustrates Martha’s cleverness, but also gives hope to the Dodo’s future.

There is so much to love about this book, from the small incidental details, such as the squirrel camouflaged on the tree, by which Frith gives a good nod at nature, to the overarching plot, in which the pacing is superb. It feels good to read aloud – the rhythm of the text works brilliantly, and the illustrations fit seamlessly. Already a firm favourite in our house, this is a fantastic picture book with a simple story illustrated to award-winning perfection.

Filled with fun for children, including doughnuts for a Dodo, clues about friendship, bird watching and keeping secrets, I have no doubt this is one to slip into your shopping basket. You’ll love it as much as they do. You can buy it here.

midnight-at-the-zoo
Midnight at the Zoo by Faye Hanson
Another second book, this time from acclaimed illustrator Faye Hanson. Mia and Max are excited – they are going on a school trip to the zoo. But when they arrive, all the animals are asleep or hiding. Max and Mia dawdle in the hope of seeing something that no one else does, and they get left behind, and spend the night in the zoo. Luckily for them, this is when the zoo really comes alive.

This is another exquisite picture book – so different in style from Mr Dodo – this one is utterly contemporary, jam packed with detail and minute pencil and pen marks, giving everything a different texture so that each page looks like an artwork in its own right.

The plot is well handled. Hanson builds the expectation, and also slight trepidation of the young children going on a school trip. The excitement on arrival, followed by slight disappointment, and then she addresses a teacher’s worst nightmare – leaving children behind. Of course, this is where the fun starts here because Max and Mia have an amazingly surreal time at the midnight zoo.

There is a wonderful contrast in terms of colour and light between the zoo in day time and the zoo at night time. In the day, the pages are greens, yellows, reds. At night, the pages positively pulse with spots and flares of almost fluorescent colour – a muted dark purple turquoise background behind the colour injections of a host of colourful butterflies, the incandescent red  of the flamingos, and the shining lights and confetti of the following pages – making a carnival atmosphere. It’s a little like the Disney Electric Light Parade – a feast of light.

Hanson also plays with her language; using a plethora of similes to describe the children’s emotions before the visit – they trundle like elephants, cling like monkeys before scampering excitedly. At the midnight zoo, she uses alliterations; “flouncing flamingos and fabulous fountains,” “loud, laughing lemurs with lanterns alight”.

But for this reader, the most exciting part of the visit to the zoo, in daytime or night, is the attention to detail – the mimicking of the small child’s eyes, which often see the incidentals. Hanson has furnished her book with a wealth of illustrations, which convey depth of characterisation and make Hanson stand out, just as she did with her first book, The Wonder.

Max and Mia’s bedroom is a paean to zoos, with an animal mobile, a striped light switch, toy animals, wallpaper, animal print bed sheets and more. The small vignettes at the zoo need careful inspection to spot where the animals are hiding (look out for the meerkats holding hands). The other school children too – shown on the bus, in the zoo, and at the end when they find Max and Mia, are fabulous – each one with a different personality – each one identifiable throughout. Even the endpapers, one showing a map of the zoo by day, the other by night.

And there’s even a happy ending. Check it out here.

Creating Toto’s Apple by Mathieu Lavoie

A guest post today from Mathieu Lavoie (don’t worry, it’s in English) about creating his wonderful picture book, Toto’s Apple – my review of which you can read here. Mathieu is a children’s book author and illustrator, as well as the creative director and co-founder of Comme des Géants, a children’s book publisher based in Montreal.

toto apple

Our night time routine with the kids involves reading books aloud and once that’s done, we turn the lights down and make up a story for them, on the spot. One very special night, I came up with the story of a little worm that had a hard time reaching an apple, but never gave up. As I was telling the story, which was not as polished as the printed version, I thought I had something interesting. After I was done and the kids were happy, I kissed them good night and rapidly went into my studio and wrote down the first draft of Toto.

toto_1_1stdraft

That first draft is very different from the final version. It’s more “written”, with more descriptions and a much slower pace. I had not yet come up with the more concise writing. The evolution of the story and its style slowly happens in the next few months. I let the story sink in as I re-tell it to myself many times. It haunts me in my everyday life. It’s as if it was continuously whispering in my ear: “I’m the one, listen to me!” At one point, I realised I could make a book with it and I started writing a second draft. From there, I made a storyboard and started cutting out vignettes and playing around with them, with pacing.

toto_2_storyboard

In the early version of Toto, Didi chooses to pick up Toto and swallows him, satisfyingly. That ending was later dropped because we thought it might just be too weird and cruel and we wanted Didi to retain her naive and pure character, echoing Toto’s personality.

toto_3_rearranging

After I’m satisfied with the pacing, I make the drawings that will be used for the final illustrations. Those drawings are quite small at approximately 3 by 4 inches for a full spread. Therefore, I enlarge them with a photocopier.

toto_4_finaldrawing

toto_5_blownup

I am now ready to start painting with gouaches. It takes me around one month to create the illustrations.

toto_6_finalillustration

After that, I send the illustrations to my publisher who takes it from there. Oh wait, I am the publisher as well! Seriously, throughout the whole process of writing and illustrating Toto, I consult with my good friend and associate at Comme des Géants. Between the two of us, we try to make books as best as they can be!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, and Toto’s Apple as well!

With thanks to Mathieu and Phaidon for this guest post. You can buy a copy of the book here

Fun Younger Fiction

The children’s author, and one time children’s laureate, Michael Rosen, has long been an advocate of funny books for children. He recently announced the winners of the Lollies (see here), but said that “Everyone who is interested in children’s reading knows that for many, many children, the thing that gets them going is a book that makes them fall about laughing. Weirdly, they’re not always that easy to find.” They don’t win the ‘big’ children’s book awards, or get reviewed enough. So here are some very funny titles for newly independent readers:

wilf worrier

Wilf the Mighty Worrier, King of the Jungle by Georgia Pritchett, illustrated by Jamie Littler
Actually the third in the series about Wilf the Mighty Worrier, this is a thoroughly enjoyable book. From the very beginning the author’s self-referential humour kicks in, as she warns you not to read this book – full of scary things and suchlike. Of course it’s as tame as tame can be, that’s half the fun, because Wilf worries about everything…

He has the most evil man in the world (Alan) living next door to him, and when Wilf finds out that he’s going on holiday to Africa, he has even more to worry about – particularly as Alan is coming with.

The text is packed with slapstick, jokes about storytelling, and silly dialogue, as well as the author using funny chapter titles, footnotes, different typefaces and bold text to highlight different comedy aspects of the story. Stuart the woodlouse has a starring role too, told in his own words. It’s highly entertaining, and exaggerated with Littler’s brilliant illustrations, which are cartoon-like and show incidences from different angles (at times from above). Personally for me, the illustrations of little sister Dot win the day.

This is a great book to reassure children who worry a little, featuring a fabulous unlikely hero, and a cast of weird and wonderfuls. Human, fun, and exuberant. You can find it here.

invincibles piglet

The Invincibles: The Piglet Pickle by Caryl Hart, illustrated by Sarah Warburton
Following in the footsteps of such titles as Wigglesbottom Primary with its two tone illustrations throughout – this is another series from the same publishers, and is sparky and bright. Written as if the main character is talking to the reader as a friend, the text is immediately accessible. It also describes everything in a matter of fact every day style – with resonance points for the reader, such as building a den and a school trip.

It’s the school trip that triggers the main plotline – as Nell’s best friend smuggles a piglet home from the farm.

There are some beautiful touches in here, some great characters – the sibling dimension and a super portrayal of a teen is explored with Nell’s older brother Lucas, which is just as well depicted in the illustrations as the text – from his slouching to his brotherly hug.

Twists and turns, and an escaped piglet…the fun continues right to the end. A great new series; taking over the mantle from Horrid Henry’s and suchlike. Available here.

the bad guys

The Bad Guys by Aaron Blabey
Another new series on the block, this is part novel, part comic, with far more illustrations than words, and will go down really well with readers who may struggle with longer text books at this stage. It’s also very funny.

Working on the irony of ‘opposites’, the leader of the bad guys – Mr Wolf – decides that their reputation stinks, so they should work together as good guys on good missions. For example, rescuing animals in distress – firstly by breaking 200 dogs out of the Maximum Security City Dog Pound. Of course, with the bad buys including a Mr Piranha, a Mr Snake and a Mr Shark – it was never going to be plain sailing.

It’s easy to read, packed with stupid humour, and told in great comic book style with adult references, such as to Reservoir Dogs – a typical bad boy gang. No child can fail to laugh at Mr Shark dressed up on page 104. This is definitely a read for the cool kids, even if, for this adult, the idea wasn’t exactly original. You can buy it here.

alfie

The Adventures of Alfie Onion by Vivian French, illustrated by Marta Kissi
Perhaps leaning slightly more to an older age group than the other books featured here, and more dry humour than laughs out loud, this is a denser text with fewer illustrations, and less of a tendency to play with italics and bold text, although it still does to some extent. It’s also a standalone title, as opposed to the other books here.

Told by experienced storyteller Vivian French, Alfie Onion mixes together conventional storytelling and fairy tales with a rather unconventional hero. Alfie’s older brother should be the hero of the story – born as the seventh son of the seventh son and with his name Magnifico Onion, but he’s a little bit dumpy and a little bit cowardly. Step in eighth son, Alfie, to save the day and ensure his family lives Happily Ever After.

Navigating through forests, defeating ogres, talking with steadfast animals, and ignoring meddling magpies, Alfie Onion has many obstacles to overcome.

This Happy Ever After tale is as traditional in its story arc and telling as it is unconventional in its hero, characters and ending but all the more refreshing for it. There are tones of Shrek throughout in the anti-hero stance and the humour, as well as the talking animals, but it retains a charm of its own. Well worth plucking from the shelves here.