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Can We Talk About Fortnite?

fortniteDo you have a child who dons a headset every night after school, shouts through it to their friends at an unbelievable volume, and has to be physically dragged away from the machine at bedtime?

For those of you that don’t, Fortnite is a multiplayer shoot-em-up game, played via a variety of consoles, computers, and even phones, that involves the child playing a team game in which 100 players on a small island kill each other until only one remains. Sort of like The Hunger Games or Survivor, with weapons including crossbows and rifles, and a Minecraft element in which players can build themselves things (shelters) out of resources lying around.

Unbelievably, it’s even popular to watch other people playing it, and there are various Youtube resources to do this.

Many parents are decrying it – I recently had some parents complain that the kids were hurriedly completing all homework during break time at school so that home time was strictly reserved for Fortniting. Yes, I did just make a verb out of the name.

Of course it’s irritating for both parent and child when they’re in the middle of one of the twenty minute games and you call ‘dinner’, but actually I’m rather liking it: it’s possibly the most social thing my son has done for some time. (Please note my son only plays with his friends not strangers – see the link above for safe internet guidance).

But more than the social element, and here comes the books bit: the game is a narrative. In fact, it grew out of an apocalyptic zombie game, and what’s more, one clever librarian, UK School Librarian of the Year 2017 Lucas Maxwell has put together a phenomenal list of books for ‘if your child loves Fortnite’, including Survivor by Tom Hoyle. The list covers a spectrum of age ranges – because the children playing are anything from 8 years to 99 years, so do ask if you’re unsure of content.

books to read if you love fortnite

but I’d also add to the list: Alone by DJ Brazier, Runner by Tom Bowler, Lifers by MA Griffin, River of Ink by Helen Dennis, Blame by Simon Mayo, Urban Outlaws by Peter Jay Black, and Bullet Catcher by Chris Bradford. For a classic, try Lord of the Flies by William Golding.

alone

bullet catcherHowever, to step back to the game for a minute, I love the storytelling aspect of it. Unlike FIFA for example, which is hours of fake football, Fortnite is part of our storytelling world. Storytelling is how we make sense of the world around us. We even structure our own lives into stories to have our lives make sense – sometimes with huge embellishments (take any CV). Through family stories and fiction (including narratives on screen), children develop the ability to tell a story. And this is important because they learn the ability to identify how one thing leads to another – casual coherence, as well as thematic coherence – how ideas and tropes repeat and recur throughout stories.

By telling these stories – by children bouncing the narrative of their Fortnite games off each other – they make connections between different points of information in the story. They strengthen their ability to tell a story, and build their sophistication in narrative, for example, building anticipation.

In fact, there are a whole host of Youtube and gamers’ narratives around Fortnite – in which people become engrossed in their avatar’s behaviour and story during the game – you can seek certain storylines such as ‘a story of revenge’ and so on. Even more fascinating is the bigger narrative surrounding the game. There are theories that the game makers have layered in different elements – such as that the idea that the island is like a map of Poland, and if you superimpose one onto the other then there are parallels between the two. Other theories include the idea that random vibrations on the console itself are a kind of Morse code, conveying messages to the player. Whilst I’m not proposing to spend a great deal of my time investigating these stories, it’s fascinating to hear gamers discuss the different options and opinions – forming their own stories around the way they play and what they think is happening. The game makers are having fun with the story, in the same way that an author sews patterns and rhythms into their novels, laying clues and narrative threads. Gaming can give you a similar immersion in a narrative as books.

I’m not advocating that children refute books for the thrill of Fortnite. However, if they use the game in moderation, and we make it a gateway to understanding narrative – then we can feel slightly better when they disappear for hours in front of the screen. All you need to do is promise them one more game, if they then go and read a book for 20 minutes. And now you have a book list that fits the purpose.

And while some are playing Fortnite, there is another cohort of children playing with slime. Some great stepping stone books for them would be Home Lab by Robert Winston, including a recipe for slime, but also using rubber bands to build a Solar System, ideas for wind catchers and more. Or This Book Thinks You’re a Scientist, Rosie Revere’s Big Project Book for Bold Engineers, the Self-Destructing Science Series, and How to Make a Universe With 92 Ingredients.

The Fortnite image is taken from Epic Games.

 

 

A Child’s Best Friend

It is reasonable to assume that a certain number of children’s books will feature a dog. Not so much a man’s best friend, as a child’s best friend, dogs have been found to be perfect listeners to books, and cheering companions on adventures. My first dog was Timmy from The Famous Five, but since then they’ve cropped up in all sorts of literature. In this, the Year of the Dog, it seems fitting to bring some new books to your attention in which dogs are more than just a sidekick, they are integral to the story.

a different dogA Different Dog by Paul Jennings, illustrated by Geoff Kelly
This is a quietly compelling, and with afterthought, immensely powerful tale of a selectively mute boy and his guilt over the dog he forsook. But with a redemptive ending for both himself and a new equally-traumatised dog he stumbles across, as both discover a renewed zest for life.

Using extreme economy of words, and writing with intensity and simplicity, Jennings showcases how effective literature can be in few words and without flourish. This is an accomplished text, which draws in reluctant readers and gets across a plethora of not just emotions, but moral dilemmas and extraordinary situations.

On a dark day, a nameless boy, poverty-stricken and picked-upon by his peers, aims to complete and win a race up a mountain to win a substantial amount of money for his mother. But when an accident leaves a driver dead, and the driver’s dog alone, the boy finds friendship with the dog, and a solace in the bravery and courage it takes to survive lost on the mountain, and finally, in the denouement, to face up to those who marginalise and bully him.

Jennings’s background as a speech pathologist shines through in his dealing with the boy’s selective mutism – he only speaks when alone. But also Jenning’s experience in writing projects itself strongly through the sophisticated text. The reader sympathises immediately with the boy, there is a direct empathy with him, despite and even because of the incident which rendered him temporarily mute, and because the reader is a party to his deepest thoughts and his conversation with the new dog.

The economy of writing lends itself to the reluctant readership, but more than that it reflects the character, so that the minimalism feels fully justified and necessary.

It’s an intriguing study, in that throughout the challenges facing the boy, and there are many, the reader also feels a slight discomfort – not at the challenges, but about the decisions the boy makes. There is a questioning, a fear of what his mother must be thinking, a moral dilemma at every turn. It comes to the fore in a particularly disturbing scene towards the end of the book, but the consequences bear out what the book is all about – belonging, speaking up for what’s right, finding peace in friendships, and how sometimes the strongest communication is that without words.

There’s a resounding line in the book about relationships: “You’re heavy, not a burden” his mother says to the son, and he repeats this to the new dog, but there is much more to think about here: love, guilt, courage, resilience, persistence, bullying, treatment of animals.

For a reluctant teen audience, yet accessible for 10+ years, this is a story that is muted in tone, quiet but astonishingly powerful. I read a proof copy, but the illustrations so far are deliciously obscure too – wooded areas, dark shadows, heavy lines. They emphasise the point – the woods may be deep and dark, but there’s a path out, and the experience may effect wondrous changes in thought and deeds. You can buy it here.

elise and the second-hand dogElise and the Second-hand Dog by Bjarne Reuter, translated from the Danish by Sian Mackie, illustrated by Kirsten Raagaard
Much lighter fare in this quirky story for middle grade readers, which suggested a sort of European Ramona the Brave. Elise lives in Copenhagen, but her mother is away building bridges in the Amazon, and her father plays the violin outside the local department store. Elise misses her mother terribly and finally persuades her father to buy her a dog (although it has to be second-hand for they don’t have much money). The dog she ends up with is not a cute and fluffy pet, but rotund with bowlegged limbs and a whiffy smell.

However, she soon realises that her dog can talk. Together, then go on a series of adventures, from building their own suspense bridge across the Amazon in her bedroom to hunting vampires in Elise’s grandma’s old mill.

The dog, of course, only makes his talent known to Elise, and he’s as quirky as she, explaining that he’s from Tobermory in Scotland, speaking Danish with a Scottish accent and proving knowledgeable about whiskey.

But the book is more than a sum of its parts – what makes it so special is the community that surrounds Elise and her dog. Each character has something to add to the story, and enhances the warmth that surrounds Elise like a loving hug. The cast is diverse and different, each with their own foibles and quirks, but all with good intentions.

The interest also lies in the surroundings being removed from the familiar – not in that the book is Danish as such, but that Reuter doesn’t hold back from mentioning names of lesser well-known composers, as well as exploring life’s adult complexities – alcohol and its effects, the concept of possibly dangerous strangers walking round the town after dark. Elise is innocent, but far less mollycoddled than some in English children’s literature, and she’s all the better for it.

There’s a sense of humour that pervades the whole, and a certainty that there’s nothing more important than having imagination. The book has oodles of it, and is charming, witty and smart. Just like Elise’s talking dog, it speaks to children everywhere. You can buy it here.

Thinker, My Puppy Poet and Me by Eloise Greenfield, illustrated by Ehsan Abdollahi
This wonderfully illustrated, full colour poetry book is amazingly a first outing for Eloise Greenfield in the UK, despite her having published 47 books for children and having won awards for some of them in her native USA. Thinker, My Puppy Poet and Me is a collection of poems for young children, taking the premise that Thinker, the dog, is a poet, along with his owner, Jace, and together they explore the world around them using free verse.

From the magical illustration on the endpapers, in which Abdollahi portrays Thinker as a carefree happy puppy enveloped by floating flowers, and seemingly following the scent of an exquisite colourful bird, the book explores the wonders and mysteries of the world. The first poem describes Thinker’s arrival in Jace’s house, and his feeling of love and belonging. Before long they are exploring the magic of language, the learning they still have to do (Jace is only seven, after all), and the conundrums of school, all in a gentle cohesive narrative.

The text and illustrations are populated by a truly special group of people, from siblings and neighbours to friends and even a stranger in the park, but there’s a feeling of community that builds throughout. This is a wonderful introduction to poetry, including some haiku, free verse, rap and rhyme, and each poem pulsates with the rhythm of language and life. The poems can be read for pure enjoyment, or to study the shape, repetition, language and rhythm. You can buy your own copy here.

raymondRaymond by Yann and Gwendal Le Bec
A tongue-in-cheek book that toys frantically with doggie word play. Raymond is an ordinary dog until the day he has a big thought about the place of a dog within a family. Before long, he has completely anthropomorphised, and becomes a journalist, or a ‘rover’ing’ reporter at Dogue magazine.

Along with the other dogs in town, he sees things differently on two legs. He enjoys cappuccinos and the cinema; at work he sniffs out deadlines. But a chance encounter with a ball makes him see that things aren’t always that great for humans. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘working himself to the bone’, and sets out to explore that a dog’s life is a great life after all.

In bold bright colours, the detailed illustrations provide a great take on modern life, and promote the message that working too hard without seeing the pleasures of the everyday is a bad thing. Children and adults will chuckle at the two-legged life of all these urban dogs, despite the message being less than subtle. The cartoon-digital feel of the book lends itself well to the glamorous lifestyle of a glossy magazine. A fun book to spark debate about having it all, and all-too-fast modern living. Lead your doggy life here.

 

What’s the Big Idea?

Christopher Edge has written many great children’s books over the years, but his latest series of science-related fiction has been phenomenal in its ability to tell an engrossing story whilst encapsulating some of the big scientific ideas. His latest, The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day, was a MinervaReads book of the week in early April, and here he explores writing the science into the story:

A few years ago, when I started writing my novel The Many Worlds of Albie Bright, I remember a friend asking me what it was about. “It’s kind of like the film It’s A Wonderful Life,” I replied, “but with quantum physics.” A frown furrowed my friend’s face. “Quantum physics?” he said. “And it’s a children’s book?”

I don’t think I write children’s books. I think I write stories. And stories are for everyone. But from the moment The Many Worlds of Albie Bright was first published, young readers have demonstrated to me their appetite for the big ideas of science.

At school and literary festival events I’ve carried out live-action demonstrations of Schrödinger’s cat and now as I get ready to start talking about my new novel The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day I’m busy working out the logistics of building the biggest-ever Möbius strip in the world!

Science explores the big questions about life, the universe and everything – the same questions that can underpin the very best stories. Why are we here? What makes us human? How do we know we really exist? Young readers are eager to grapple with these questions and children’s literature can provide the medium to help them to do this.

As YA has grown as a genre in recent years, there’s been increasing discussion about what the difference between children’s and YA fiction actually is. Some talk about the age of the protagonist, whilst others point to the themes and issues tackled, but for me I think of children’s fiction as looking outward at the world, whilst YA books look inward. I’m aware that there are lots of examples that contradict this distinction and I think the best books do both, but this sense of inquisitiveness is what fuels my fiction.

maisie dayMy latest novel The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day is about a girl called Maisie who’s a bit of a science whiz. She passed her GCSE Maths and Science exams at the age of seven, her A Levels when she was nine, and, as the story starts on her tenth birthday, is now studying for a degree in Mathematics and Physics at the Open University. But when Maisie wakes up in an empty house with no sign of her mum, dad or elder sister, Lily, and then opens the front door to see a dense, terrifying blackness outside, Maisie quickly realises that her birthday isn’t going to be any ordinary day.  Trapped in an ever-shifting reality, she has to use the laws of the universe and the love of her family to survive. And as Maisie pieces together the puzzle of what’s really happening, she discovers that reality is not what it seems…

Science and stories both help us to make sense of the world and I hope The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day can feed the insatiable curiosity I find in the children that I meet at school and literary festival events. Through fiction we can inspire the next generation of scientists, engineers and astronauts, and use science to hook a new generation of children on reading too.

With thanks to Christopher Edge. You can buy The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day here

 

Age Before Beauty?

the twitsIf you’re a regular reader of my blog on children’s books, or even an infrequent one, you’d probably surmise that I read mostly recent children’s fiction, the ‘just published’ category. World Book Day books too lean towards the new and shiny authors, and most of the WHSmith stock is very contemporary (the exceptions being Roald Dahl and some Judy Blume).

However, I don’t just blog about children’s books, but also work with education consultancies and school libraries, parents and carers, suggesting books for lots of different children, and so I always like to include ‘backlist’ and ‘classics’ on the list too. My blog is sometimes a place for publishers and publicists to show off their latest books (although don’t worry, there’s a filter, I only promote books I’ve read and enjoyed or see merit in). But I do worry that older books are being forgotten, or crowded out of the marketplace.

It seems that I’m not alone in this. A recent hashtag appeared on Twitter, called #LostPrimaryBooks, against which teachers and others proclaimed their love for long lost and forgotten titles, which aren’t necessarily classics, but are much loved stories from when they were children. Some of them still have a relevant place in today’s classrooms, homes and libraries. (I will always have immense passion for Lois Duncan and SE Hinton books).

Simon Smith also brought this to attention with his recent blog on book recommendation, in which he worried that we are too focussed on the next new thing. And probably not just in books, but in all walks of life.

Although I’d never push Sweet Valley High on my children (unless they found the series themselves and wanted to read them), I do often include titles in my recommendations that weren’t published in the last five years.

Because, even with my ‘fluent’ readers groups, I’ve noticed that classics, old stories, and even fairy tales aren’t being heard or absorbed. And this is troubling because without a background of fairy stories, folk tales, and even bible stories, passed down, we lose the ability to see ‘intertextuality’, to link and connect across cultures. Most of the children I talk to have never heard of those old Bible stories – Daniel and the Lion’s Den, David and Goliath, etc. Does it matter? Well, when the media reference a battle as being David and Goliath, or the football commentators say it, do our young people understand what they mean? And will these phrases and terms pass from the vernacular?

And more importantly, when different cultures compare folk stories, we often see the same patterns, the same plot variations, the same use of imagination, the same fears and joys. And if these disappear, we lose common ground, we lose the ability to connect over shared explanations and ideas. These cultural folk tales, Bible stories, fairy stories, also give children a sense of their own history, and the ‘classics’ can give children a sense of literary history too.

letters from the lighthouseI was recently leading a book group of fluent readers on evacuee fiction. We discussed many recent examples – Wave Me Goodbye by Jacqueline Wilson, Letters from the Lighthouse by Emma Carroll, The Emergency Zoo by Miriam Halahmy. I also referenced Carrie’s War by Nina Bawden, Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Margorian, and When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr. All titles kept in the school library, but only one child had read these latter three. But most fascinating was that I discovered the British Government’s plan to evacuate the children was called Operation Pied Piper. That made perfect sense to me – but sadly the group of children hadn’t come across this legend, and so didn’t understand my lightbulb moment.

I hear the ‘Pollyanna’ effect as a phrase used in modern television and film dialogue quite frequently, and yet if one hasn’t heard of the book, it’s hard to know what the phrase means. And I recently made a reference on twitter to ‘Reader, I married him’ about reading Jane Eyre to my daughter, but it’s not a popular choice among today’s teens. True, not everyone will read or like the classics, but we shouldn’t lump them all in the past in a collective ‘boring’ or ‘exam only’ pile. Some reluctant readers could be as enthralled by Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye and The Lord of the Flies as I am – they’re pretty short too!

For April Fools’ Day I decided to reference The Twits and the pranks they played upon each other. I started my session by making the assumption that the group of Year 1-4 would have heard the story before. I was vastly wrong. Most of them hadn’t. (This particular group of children came from fairly affluent backgrounds and most had box sets of Walliams on their shelves, so it was surprising to me that they hadn’t been read to, or read themselves, the classic Roald Dahl books).

I’m not proposing we revisit the times of the Dahl Effect (in which primary school teachers only used well-worn texts as they had no knowledge of contemporary fiction), and yet perhaps it’s time to revisit some of the backlist of children’s books alongside the contemporary. Studying Journey to the River Sea published in 2001 with The Explorer published in 2017 is great for investigating intertextuality. I read What Lexie Did by Emma Shevah last week (just published) – a brilliant book about knowing when to lie and when to tell the truth, which could be compared to On the Way Home by Jill Murphy, Liar and Spy by Rebecca Stead, the classic folk tale The Boy Who Cried Wolf, or Cautionary Tales for children by Hilarie Belloc.

When publishers re-issue old favourites such as 101 Dalmations with new illustrations – they present us with the perfect opportunity to revisit these texts.

tiger who came to teaMany older titles stand the test of time wonderfully. Classic picture books such as The Tiger Who Came to Tea by Judith Kerr has remained in the top 5,000 books sold every year since records began in 1998.

And not only do some of these titles stand the test of time, and warrant reading by today’s sometimes attention-zapped youngsters, but some of them haven’t been much bettered in the message they are trying to convey. Some Dogs Do by Jez Alborough, published 2003, is one of my favourite picture books for impressing upon the reader the idea of believing in your dreams and not being bullied out of them. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle, published 1969, is still a brilliant introduction to the lifecycle of a butterfly. Corduroy by Don Freeman, published 1968, still stands the test of time as a great picture book about friendship, belonging and materialism.

I know we look to modern books for certain representation that may not have been there in the past, but for feisty girls smashing the patriarchy, I always harp back to Mary in The Secret Garden – leading the way in fighting the adversity of her situation (parents dead, expectations demanded of her because of her gender) and yet railing against all expectations and freeing Colin from his misery. How about Jane Eyre, or the girls in The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, who foil the baddies with wit and guile? Becky Sharp from Vanity Fair? The Fossil Sisters from Ballet Shoes? I could go on and on. I never felt misrepresented as a determined girl, and also saw the changing face of gender expectations within historical contexts.

In terms of diversity, modern books still aren’t cracking it yet, although things are starting to change – there still aren’t enough BAME protagonists, or Jewish characters. This minority group seem to feature in WW2 books occasionally, fighting back against the Nazis, but hardly ever in other time frames.

My point is that we need to make sure children are excited about new books – there’s little better than hearing a child ask if the next book in the series is out yet – but also we want to encourage them to read the strong backlist too. It’s far easier to get that instant gratification if the whole series has already been written. The only disappointment they’ll feel is the answer they get when they ask their librarian to book Enid Blyton for an author visit…

The Mystery of the Colour Thief Cover Reveal

colour thief

I am thrilled to showcase this gorgeous animated gif of the cover for The Mystery of the Colour Thief by Ewa Jozefkowicz, cover design by Sophie Gilmore, published by Zephyr on 3rd May.

The Mystery of the Colour Thief is a captivating and uplifting novel about twelve-year-old Izzy, trying to cope with her mother being in a coma after a car accident, her father’s resulting disintegration, and her best friend dumping her. Meanwhile, she has nightmares about a shadowy man stealing colours from her world; nightmares that seem to seep into her daytime consciousness as she watches the colours fade from the mural on her wall.

But things start looking up when she meets her new neighbour, Toby, and together they embark on a plan to save a small cygnet on a nearby river, and find that saving a swan may end up saving Izzy too.

This extremely readable novel lays bare the emotions of friendship and family, as well as exploring the impact of nature on our urban lives, and the ways in which we can find hope and confidence in ourselves. Toby is wheelchair-bound after an accident of his own, but together with Izzy, the two new friends find that positivity and confidence help them through adversity. With authentic characterisation, nuanced emotional intelligence, and gentle unravelling of the mystery, Jozefkowicz has written an impactful and memorable story. Here, she explains how she was inspired by colour.

the colour thief“Let go!’ said the colour thief and he loomed large, long fingers ready to snatch the last of my colour. The world flickered like a faulty lightbulb and then everything went dark.”

The quote above comes from Izzy’s recurring nightmare in which a mysterious figure calls out to her from a cloud of smoke, each time issuing a warning about something terrible that’s about to happen. When she wakes up in the morning, she finds that another colour has disappeared from the mural on her bedroom wall and she begins to panic, as she has no idea about how to bring it back.

I’ve always been fascinated by colour and particularly its link to human emotion. We’re all familiar with the phrase ‘black dog,’ which is an image associated with sadness and the idea of ‘seeing red’ when you’re angry or turning ‘green with envy’. But until relatively recently, I hadn’t heard anybody talk about things becoming ‘colourless’ when they feel down.

The idea for Izzy’s story actually came from a young girl in a school where I was a governor, who was going through an incredibly tough time at home and when asked by a teacher about what impact it was having on her, she said that it felt as though all the colours had disappeared from her world. It was a touching image – when I heard it, I could imagine what it must be like to look at the world as if through the screen of an old-fashioned film, where everything is in shades of grey.

Ewa Jozefkowicz

Ewa Jozefkowicz. Photo credit: Ruta Zukaite

Before the thief entered her life, Izzy’s world was filled with colour. Her mum was an artist, and she was used to helping her mix her paints to create the most amazing hues. She appreciated everything from the deep azure blue of the summer sky above her head as she daydreamed looking up at the clouds, to the particular chocolate brown of her dog Milo’s coat. But then the car accident happened which left her mum in hospital, and all of the colours that they used to enjoy together suddenly began to fade away.

The Mystery of The Colour Thief is a tale of a broken friendship, of illness and of sadness, but there is also much light in it. Izzy loses an old friend who no longer understands her, but she also gains a new one in her neighbour Toby, and she discovers a nest of swans with a tiny cygnet, Spike, who is even more lost than her. Both help her on her quest, so she is no longer alone.

I wanted to convey two important messages within the story – the first is that if you’re going through something similar to Izzy, if you find that your world is a little greyer, the colours a bit toned down, you most definitely are not alone. Sometimes a ‘colour thief’ might descend on you when you least expect it, through no fault of your own. The second, and most important one, is that there are always kind people around you who can help you to repaint your world – you just need to seek them out.

With thanks to Ewa Jozefkowicz and Zephyr, an imprint of Head of Zeus publishers. You can pre-order your copy of The Mystery of the Colour Thief here.

Rose’s Dress of Dreams

roses dress of dreamsThere may be plenty of books featuring biographies of amazing women jostling for space on the shelves at the moment, but for children looking for a short contained fiction that does the same job, accompanied by sensational illustrations, they’d do well to pick up Rose’s Dress of Dreams by Katherine Woodfine, illustrated by Kate Pankhurst. Based on the life of Rose Bertin, the woman credited with creating haute-couture, this is a divinely illustrated historical fiction of determination and dreams.

Woodfine expertly weaves the story of Rose’s passion and abundant energy as she transforms herself from a young apprentice into a budding businesswoman. In the face of rejection, Rose triumphs through her own hard work, and changes people’s negative mindsets as she does so. In the face of doubt and drudgery, Rose still dreams of fabrics and ideas of style and by the end is dressing royalty.

There’s some imaginative wordplay that sweeps the reader along, with Woodfine drawing on all the senses as she describes the sensuous business of dressmaking. But there’s also plenty of spark and personality as the reader learns that clothes can bring confidence to the wearer, and that friendship and manners play their part too.

Pankhurst’s illustrations do far more than just complement the text. Known already for her portraits of famous women in children’s books, and also for her flair for historical detail, here she draws the furniture and chandeliers of the time, matching them with Parisian architecture, and of course fashions. Together, Woodfine and Pankhurst have created a truly shining gem of a book. What’s more it’s a Little Gem by Barrington Stoke, so perfect for even the most reluctant of readers (this is short fiction with bite-size paragraphs and tinted pages).

I’m delighted to showcase a Kate Pankhurst illustration from the book – this one is from page 16, beginning Chapter 3: The Streets of Paris.

Tempted? See Katherine reading the matching chapter of the book here:

And you can buy your own copy here.

 

A Q&A with Bryony Thomson

It was the lampshades that frightened me. Pink, gentle tulips by day; at night after lights out, they morphed into vicious monsters with lightbulb tongues.

Many children imagine some kind of monster in the darkness while they lie in bed after lights out, and it can take parents several trips and opening and closing of wardrobes to reassure them. So what relief to find a book that helps to assuage fears.

The Wardrobe Monster by Bryony Thomson explores what makes Dora and her toy friends afraid to go to sleep, and grouchy the next morning. It actually is a monster in the wardrobe, but this monster is as scared as they, and so they all snuggle in bed together, until another bump gives them a fright.

Thomson’s book is delightful in its premise, but most particularly in its illustrations and depiction of Dora and her soft toys. They are as lifelike as Woody and Buzz, and inflected with as much personality as Pooh, Eeyore and friends. The Wardrobe Monster is Bryony Thomson’s debut picturebook, and from this superb start, it’s easy to see that she’ll go far.

A firm favourite here already – I look forward to gifting it to friends’ small children. There are so many exquisite touches, from Dora and friends stalling bedtime, to addressing the wardrobe monster as ‘Mr Wardrobe Monster’, to the play on Lion’s bravery; but my favourite is the constant affection and intimacy between Dora and her toys. Beguiling and comforting, this is an adorable and pleasurably happy read. I was lucky enough to quiz Bryony on her debut:

The Wardrobe Monster is a comfort book for those children who have a fear of the dark. How did you counteract this fear when you were young without The Wardrobe Monster to help you?

I’m not sure I had a very good system – that’s partly why I wanted to write The Wardrobe Monster. I had a very vivid imagination as a child and can remember lying in my bed at school as various pipes and bits of furniture in the enormous dormitory creaked and groaned, making up all sorts of possible scenarios for what could be causing the noise. That would usually go on until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more!

The soft toy teddies in your book all have distinctive characters, something the publisher compares to those in Winnie the Pooh. Was that an influence on you? And which other books/illustrations have influenced you?

I would definitely count Winnie the Pooh as one of the long term influences on my work. It was one of my favourite books growing up, in particular the incident where Pooh goes to visit Rabbit, eats too much honey and condensed milk and gets stuck in the rabbit hole. The characters all have such distinctive voices, I can still hear them in my head (the way my Dad used to read them) and that has had a massive influence on my storytelling.

In terms of other books and illustrations, I would say Rebecca Cobb’s books such as Lunchtime and Aunt Amelia. I love the simplicity of her stories and illustrations, there is a real sense of joy and magic to them. Laura Carlin has also been a big influence from an illustration point of view. When I began to study how her drawings are connected to reality and observation whilst at the same time incorporating a high level of stylisation it was a real revelation and opened a lot of doors. Somehow it gave me the confidence to let go of the need to make everything completely accurate and true to life.

The pictures in the book feel so warm and enticing to children because they look as if they were done in crayon. What medium did you do the book in, and which medium do you prefer?

The book is made with a combination of monoprint and pencil scanned in, layered together and then coloured in Photoshop. This process was something new I discovered while working on the early stages of this book and I feel it suits the story well.

I don’t know whether I have a favourite medium as I’m always trying to discover the best thing for a particular story. I do have a never ending love affair with screenprint but I find it rather too labour intensive for books; it is too much of a disaster when you get something wrong!

For me the choice of medium is always about creating a high enough level of uncertainty in the end result. I’m naturally a real perfectionist and so to fight against this I try to use media that I can’t fully control; often it is the mistakes or unexpected outcomes that lead to the biggest breakthrough in the artwork. I think that is why I like print techniques as you never really know how something is going to turn out until you’ve done it.

I adore the main character’s distinctive hair colour and matching slippers. Was this something that occured to you near the beginning of the process, or an inspired decision near the end?

Dora’s hair was pink right from the very first draft of the story – possibly because I’ve always wanted to have pink hair! What came later was the idea to incorporate some of the pink into the Wardrobe Monster to create a connection between the two characters. As if, even though this was an enormous scary monster, there was something in him that Dora could immediately recognise and empathise with.

You’ve avoided using gendered pronouns for the soft toys in your book. Was this a reaction to the recent survey regarding male gendered animals in picture books?

Whilst I thought that survey was incredibly interesting in terms of reflecting how we naturally tell stories, it wasn’t actually an influence on my decision; I made the choice right from the very beginning, a long time before the survey results came out. My reasoning was that I knew I wanted a female lead character in Dora – in large part because she represented me in the story – but I was very aware that I didn’t want to create a book that appealed solely to girls by designating the other characters as male or female.

I have a very clear idea in my head of the genders of the other characters because of who I have based them on in real life, but I wanted the reader to be able to see them in their own way.

You mention that you went to boarding school. Not many children are used to that concept now. Was it all midnight feasts and tuck shops?

Not really…there certainly was a tuck shop and the occasional midnight feast but mainly it was just lessons, really horrible school food and slightly old fashioned plumbing (my first school was in a very old stately home in Norfolk)! I went when I was 8 through until I left school at 17 and found it quite hard. You get used to the routine of being away from home but it doesn’t really make you miss it any less. What it does give you, however, is a fantastic education, as there are far fewer distractions and a lot of confidence in your own ability to cope with whatever life throws at you. Plus for me it gave me the inspiration for The Wardrobe Monster!

Do you have a favourite soft toy that you took/take to bed?

When I was born my grandmother made me a soft toy dog with long ears and a zip in her tummy for my pyjamas; I called her Debbie. She is now unbelievably battered and threadbare and is living out her well earned retirement at my Mum and Dad’s house.

Where do you do your illustrating? Do you have a particular desk/pen?

I have a little basement studio at our house in Surrey which I absolutely love! It is really quiet and peaceful and I can shut the door and get totally immersed in whatever I’m working on.

I don’t have a particular pen but I do have very specific tools for different jobs – for rough drawings and character development I need a Castell 9000 2B pencil and for monoprinting a Caran d’Ache Neocolor II crayon and Grafwood 3B pencil. I’d love to say that I’m really flexible and can pick up anything to draw with but if I don’t have those three things there is usually a bit of a crisis, followed by some speedy internet shopping!

Quickfire:
Favourite colour: Purple
Favourite biscuits: Dark chocolate digestives
Best TV show: Of all time? Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Most treasured childhood memory: Every year for my birthday we used to go to one of the local farms to see the new lambs, you could stroke them and pick them up, it was magical.
Best place in the world: Suffolk without a shadow of a doubt – that’s where I grew up.
Favourite childhood book: Hard to choose just one but Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield, I must have read it or been read it dozens of times.

With thanks to Bryony Thomson for answering my questions. You can find her website here, and seek her on twitter here. If you want to read more about Bryony Thomson, have a look here tomorrow for more on Bryony’s blogtour, and you can buy your own copy of The Wardrobe Monster here

2018 FCBG Children’s Book Award Blog Tour: Optimists Die First

Some of you will know that I keep my publishing fingers in several pies! As well as advising and recommending children’s books here, one of my pies is looking after the blog for the FCBG. This charity runs a wonderful book award, the Children’s Book Award, which is as it says – it’s the only national award voted for solely by children from start to finish. And at the end of the voting year, the books (nearly 12,000) are donated to hospitals, refuges, and disadvantaged schools. The aim of the FCBG being to make books accessible and available to all children, and helping to create readers for life.

This year, one of the titles shortlisted for the CBA Top Ten is Optimists Die First by Susin Nielsen.

optimists

Optimists Die First is the story of Petula, who blames herself for her young sister’s death. When her anxiety spirals out of control, she is sent to attend an art therapy group, where she meets a group of other teenagers who are also experiencing their own difficult issues: some with family issues, grappling with their sexuality, and addictive substances. In this group, she meets Jacob, an amputee, who likes to tell stories to cover the real reason for his injury. When the truth comes out about what really happened, Petula is already too far into her relationship with Jacob, and the truth threatens to destroy them.

Nielsen’s deft writing skill is apparent in abundance here. Not only is Optimists a gripping read, but the characters, no matter how minor their part, come across as authentic teens. Nielsen writes of their agonies and anxieties with pathos and sensitivity, as well as demonstrating their clear sense of humour, be it cynical, sarcastic or just straight funny. She zips around the darker themes with ease, especially Petula’s ongoing anxieties, and manages to incorporate a sense of the consequences of the tragedy of the death of Petula’s sister on the parents too. Despite the tough subject matter, there is no over-dramatisation – this is a carefully sewn tapestry of teen angst.

Moreover, the book gives the reader the courage to face down their own adversity, whatever it may be. And it also shows that although another’s problems may not be as apparent, they may be larger than one’s own issues. Each person can find courage to overcome obstacles, especially if they speak up and speak out.

The novel is about trust, and friendship, guilt and grief. The children of the FCBG have voted Optimists into their top ten for a good reason. It’s an excellent read. It’s in the older readers’ category, age 12+ years, because it contains references to sex and more adult themes.

Susin Nielsen is thrilled to be shortlisted, saying: “I’m delighted that Optimists Die First has been shortlisted for an award that is voted on entirely by young readers. Awards like this have extra-special meaning, because it means the book is connecting with the very people it was meant for. It’s also wonderful that so many books are donated to worthy organizations.”

And now two things. Firstly pop over to twitter to win one of three exclusive SIGNED HARDBACKS of Optimists on my twitter account (@minervamoan). And secondly, do vote for your favourite title on the shortlist here. Any child up to the age of 18 can vote for their favourite books.

You can see the Blog Tour schedule here and keep up to date with all of the FCBG Children’s Book Award news on Twitter.

 

 

 

YA Shot: An Interview with Sita Brahmachari

ya shotYA Shot 2018 (an author-run books festival) is human rights themed this year, which makes it a perfect opportunity to interview Sita Brahmachari. Sita’s novel, Tender Earth, has been nominated as one of the UK Honour Books by IBBY (International Board on Books for Young People).

The characters in Tender Earth are diverse in both their backgrounds and their outlooks, and Amnesty International has endorsed the book as illuminating the importance of equality, friendship and solidarity. But it’s not just Tender Earth that eschews these qualities. Sita’s books cover a range of topics, from refugees in Worry Angels and Artichoke Hearts to dealing with divorce in Red Leaves, to the rights of a lollipop man, music, and dealing with loss in her latest for Barrington Stoke, Zebra Crossing Soul Song.

But although they cover so many issues, each book always includes a diverse range of characters. Sita has been the online Writer in Residence for Book Trust, discussing finding a voice and being engaged in current affairs, and Writer in Residence at Islington Centre for Refugees and Migrants, and is an Amnesty Ambassador championing Universal Human Rights. So I asked her the following:

How much of an impact can storytelling for children have on changing the world/on influencing human rights?

Tender EarthI read I Know Why The Caged Bird’s Sings by Maya Angelou when I was twelve years old. I forgot that I was reading. I had stepped into the life of another human being.  I was walking with the young Maya through all her struggles in a time and a country that I had never visited. Reading this book opened a portal in my mind and heart. My reading journey really started there and it has led me to explore so many territories and realities that I would never get to visit in one life time. I love that (if libraries and specialist librarians are properly supported) all books can find their way into the hands of all children. Access to books is perhaps the greatest indicator of equality. In Tender Earth Laila is partly inspired to become an activist by reading I am Malala. This is close to my own experience and I hope young readers might be inspired to empathise with many people through my stories and that their empathy might lead them to act, as Laila does to show her support for what she believes in.

Your books are often about identity, whether it be our cultural identity, heritage, nationality. How important is it for children to know their family background?

I’m interested in all kinds of different identities. There is the identity that we grow up with which we may be comfortable with or not. I’m also interested in the identities we choose.

zebra crossing soul song

I think of it this way. When I was a young child my parents made choices on my behalf – nothing unusual there – But as we grow we gather our own tastes and interests, as well as strong feelings about the identities and  beliefs we should be free to choose. In Jasmine Skies Mira is interested in tracing her family history. It gives her a sense of belonging to a wide diaspora family. However, In Red Leaves Aisha, a young girl who is a Somali refugee, is deeply connected to the family she has had to leave behind, but she must forge a new identity in a new land. We all have several identities depending on context. I think I’m really interested in how identities inform character. In my latest story for Barrington Stoke Zebra Crossing Soul Song Lenny is shocked that Otis his friend would stare at his dads as they stand kissing on the doorstep.

Many children like Aisha or Lenny are adopted or fostered and their early stories may be very unknown or unlooked for…what I’m interested in is depicting communities that are open to allowing us to explore all of who we are and can become, including who we love, how we love, what we believe, our cultures, where we come from, where we travel to.

For me, exploration of identities is a rich seam for storytelling… I would say most human beings do seek places where they feel a strong sense of belonging whether that be in stories or life.

I’ve noticed lots of inter-generational relationships in your novels. Is this something drawn from your own experience?

I find the way we structure and segregate a society through age to be limiting.

I often find that young people in mixed age groups are more open to widen their horizons and listen to each other. In Tender Earth Dara, who was a Kindertransport refugee, has much to share with Laila about her first-hand experience of being a refugee. I am fascinated in the relationship between oral history and storytelling. Whenever I meet young people I encourage them to ask members of their family about their histories. My first novel Artichoke Hearts explores the idea of what we inherit from people who come before us. In Brace Mouth, False Teeth on work experience in a nursing home, Zeni discovers a whole world in the mind of Alice a woman with dementia. I try to paint many different kinds of families in my stories… there is no one size fits all, but in all the kind of families I depict they quite naturally include members of every generation.

Many of your books deal with refugees and the global diaspora.  Do you think we are getting better at welcoming refugees in this country, or worse?

worry angelsWe are at a moment in history where the politics of migration rages through every media discussion. Some of the language used de-humanises. We are also at a moment when our children are growing up with images of children their own ages drowning at sea and making terrible journeys to find safety. Many unaccompanied children have been denied their legal right  (UDHR) to join families who already live in this country. In Tender Earth Dara (who arrived here as a refugee on Kindertransport) cries as she watches the news. But Laila (12 years old) and Pari (the child of Iraqi refugee parents) become best friends. Since Jide in Artichoke Hearts, my stories include refugee children as part of the narrative…Aisha, Janu, Rima, Amir, Pari…they are part of all our stories. How we welcome children in stories matters deeply. Amy May’s and Grace’s welcome of Rima and her family in Worry Angels is the welcome I would like to see in stories as in life. It’s the welcome that I think is just as important for Amy May as it is for Rima in order for all of us to live in a more empathetic society.

I’m glad you mentioned empathy. Can you tell me a little about your involvement in Empathy Lab

I am delighted that Empathy Lab have picked Tender Earth as one of thirty stories that can help young people feel more empathy. I had early discussions with Empathy Lab about the kinds of activities I do in schools and the strongly empathetic responses young people have to my stories.

Writers must fully enter into the worlds of so many different characters. I will often engage in thorough research to get under the skin of situations. The process of having empathy for characters and people who may on the surface feel unapproachable is a valuable one as a storyteller and a reader but also in life in general.

I would go so far as to say that it is perhaps the most important ability we can learn as human beings whatever we choose to do.

For me empathy is active … it creates stories and characters but it also leads me to act differently eg. my discussion about refugee people above led me to work as writer in residence in a refugee centre for several years along with Jane Ray. It also led me to become an Amnesty Ambassador.

I’ll be joining six other writers to work in libraries with inter-generational groups to explore how empathy in stories and life can help us to connect and feel more deeply for each other. In Worry Angels Rima tells her friend Amy May to ‘feel about it.’ Her translator corrects her English to ‘think about it’ but I want my stories to go beyond thinking to make readers ‘feel about it.’

Do you think it is necessary to portray life’s difficulties and sadness in books for children?

kite spiritChildren experience every human emotion just as adults do, and they are often experiencing them intensely for the first time. If we don’t include the full range of human emotion in stories we deny access for children to explore their own emotional worlds.

Stories offer a place for us to explore difficulties as well as mysteries and wonders. Very often they allow us try on different ways of being, paths to avoid as well as those to take.

Just as Nana Josie in Artichoke Hearts involved Mira in all aspects of her planned funeral, I think it’s vital that children and young people are given access to all that impacts on their lives. In Kite Spirit I explore the impact of ‘not speaking’ and ‘ staying silent’ about the pressures faced. I am very happy that this story has been taken up by The Reading Agency as a story that helps young people explore their own mental health, and PHSE resources will be created around the story.

 

Reading your books, it always feels as if they are very much character led. What comes first for you as a writer – the character, the plot or the setting?

Characters always come first for me. They often lead me to their stories in unexpected ways. This is the adventure of writing …characters, like people, won’t be confined and limited by conscious thought, list making and planning….they grow best when you give them space to dream, imagine and expand and then they can take you places in a story and landscape you never plotted out for them. It’s in the space between what you think you might be writing and what you actually write that the magic and mystery of writing lies. Being free to explore in that space allows the imagination to flourish and the possibilities for your stories to open up.

Landscape is also a character in my stories. The Kolkata in Jasmine Skies is perhaps one of the biggest most vital character in that story and its human characters grow out of the landscape. In Kite Spirit I draw heavily on the Lake District landscape of my childhood. Similarly the North London Woods in which Red Leaves is set provided the inspiration for the character of the homeless ‘Elder’… whose skin resembles a gnarled tree trunk in that wood. I find plot from placing my characters in juxtaposition with each other, with landscape and situation and seeing what they say and do! In many ways plot is what comes to me through improvising with my characters.

We have symbols for religion, countries etc. There are also lots of symbols that leap out from your books. How important is it for you to attach a symbol to a story – for example – the artichoke charm in Artichoke Hearts?

artichoke heartsI’m one of those people who likes to collect things! It’s not only Nana Josie in Artichoke Hearts who collects random things like ‘holey stones!’ I have to admit that my bookshelves need cleaning and sorting as much as Uma’s do in Tender Earth. In her keenness to throw out some old objects that have been kept on the shelves because they originally meant something Uma almost throws away the most important symbol in the story. The charm that chimes back to Nana Josie in ‘Artichoke Hearts’ is only saved at the last minute because of Laila’s inquisitive nature. Most children I know like to collect things… shells, pennies, books…

These unifying metaphors often come to me in quite a random way… the artichoke was a vegetable on my table before it was a charm… but it was perfect as a way of drawing together what I was writing about…the complex layers of a life…and what’s at the heart of it.

Often these symbols have a deep personal meaning for me and by planting them in the story they act as a story hearth hidden deep in the centre of the book and giving warmth… it’s these symbols that keep the core of the story alive.

Does it irritate you to be asked about diversity in your books or is it cheering? Do you think we’ll ever get to a point when it’s a given and not an asked question?

We’re not at a point where the children we write for and the characters in the stories are representative of the diverse, global, economically unequal world we live in, so quite simply I see it as part of my job to talk about this and where I can promote change I do. For me it’s not an agenda… all those who love stories want more diversity of stories.

As a child I needed them and didn’t find them, as an adult and as a parent of three young people ranging from early twenties to thirteen years of age, I was shocked to find how little things had changed. Over the past decade the debates around diversity including BAME, LGBTQ and disability representation, and also the need for global stories to be translated into English, have become greater and there is activism and the realisation that outreach is needed in many areas of the children’s publishing world. However, this takes place at a time when there are cuts to library services and in the roles of professional librarians. There is little point writing stories with diverse heart and souls if all young people don’t get access to them.

In my stories, I believe I normalise diversity by populating my books with a diverse cast of characters and stories… this goes far beyond including names from different cultures. It’s about deep engagement with different people…with difference and with similarity…and it’s about a joy in the mystery of travelling a wide, diverse universe of cultures, histories, languages, experiences and beliefs. This is the normal of how we humans live in the world and increasingly so with technological connectivity. It’s the world our children are growing up in but it’s not the norm in books yet. Until it is, everybody’s horizons are limited. Many children will feel their absence in stories and this can have a deep impact in them finding their presence valued in all aspect of their lives.

Can you tell me a little about your route to publication?

Sita Brahmachari

I was late to learn to read. I lived in my imagination for a long time. I was a doodler and a daydreamer like Mira! When I was ready I became a voracious reader and got a reading chair at the age of thirteen – no one else was allowed to sit there! I travelled to new galaxies on that chair!

I studied English at Bristol University. I was in a community theatre play and discovered I loved working with young people on creative projects. My first work was at The Royal Court Young People’s Theatre where I was lucky enough to work on the National Young Writers Festival. Over the next years I wrote plays with and for young people and worked for many different theatre companies.  At the heart of my work I have always felt the importance of young people’s voices being heard. I was writing novels and poetry before I started reading but never showed my work to anyone. In 2005 I finally plucked up courage to send my story Artichoke Hearts to agents. It was miraculous to me that Macmillan Children’s Books published it and it won The Waterstones Children’s Book Prize. Since then I have been commissioned to write four futher books for Macmillan Children’s Books, four for Barrington Stoke Publishers, short stories in anthologies for Amnesty International and Walker Books and Stripes Publishers (Crisis at Christmas) and a theatre adaptation of Shaun Tan’s graphic novel The Arrival. In September I have my first illustrated novella published by Otter Barry Books, illustrated by Jane Ray. I am currently under commission to write two new novels.

With many thanks to Sita Brahmachari. She will be on the ‘Family, faith and identity panel’ at YA Shot on 14th April at 5pm. 

 

Two Witchy Reads

Witches aren’t just for Halloween, as my primary school book club recently reminded me. We look at books by theme rather than all reading the same title, and when we chose witches, the children and I were quite overwhelmed with the breadth of novels available. Witches make a great topic in literature – ‘witch’ books often portray women as ‘other’, and invite the reader to assess why that is, why women have historically been cast as mysterious or outside of normal morality. They look into ideas of good and evil, delve into societal fears, utilise magic, and can bring to the fore how witchcraft was viewed historically.

how to hang a witchThe author, Adriana Mather, has more inclination to write about Salem witches than most, being descended from Cotton Mather, one of the men responsible for the gruesome Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Her novel, How to Hang a Witch, tells the story of fifteen-year-old Samantha Mather, an alter ego almost, a fictional descendant of Cotton Mather, who is moving back to Salem to live in her deceased grandmother’s house.

The setting of the book is enormously well-crafted, from the spooky empty streets in which it feels as if a ghost lurks at every corner, and the various nooks and crannies the characters inhabit, as well as the haunted house in woodland, a cemetery and other ‘witchy’ tropes. The book starts in autumn of course, with the crispness in the air and leaves, and the aura of Halloween that pervades the shops and houses.

Mathers sets out to parallel modern-day school bullying with the bullying behind the Salem witch trials. To some extent she does do this, by casting a popular group at school as the Descendants of the witches on trial, and by introducing a love triangle between a ghost of a boy from the seventeenth century with Sam’s contemporary cute boy-next-door. So far, so contrived, but once the reader suspends all disbelief, and throws themselves into the various elements of the paranormal that occur, this is a fun, romance-filled romp of a YA novel, perfect for those who suck up box sets on Netflix of pretty looking teens with darkness bubbling beneath.

To her credit, Mathers introduces a fair amount of historical detail of the Salem Witch Trials, although those really interested would be wise to fact-check what they’ve consumed. The history in the book piques the interest. You can buy it here.

begone the raggedy witchesFor younger readers (10+), and more magical and far more literary, is Begone the Raggedy Witches by Celine Kiernan, the first in The Wild Magic Trilogy. This beautifully written fantasy adventure begins with a spooky car journey home, in which Mup feels that she is being watched by witches in the trees. She is not wrong, and when they come for her Mam, and take her back to Witches’ Borough, a suppressed magical realm accessed through the forest, Mup has no choice but to follow.

With the ghost of her newly deceased aunt never far removed, and the shapeshifting that overtakes her baby brother, as well as the creatures she meets in this new witchy realm, this is fantasy of the highest order. This gripping tale is told from the third person point of view of a protagonist, Mup, who is vastly grounded, and practical – making the fantasy seem incredibly real.

With richness in vocabulary, some impinged-upon characters who may only speak in rhyme, and a spooky atmosphere to rival the darkest of Frances Hardinge’s novels, this is a treat.

The true delight though, comes from the position in which Kiernan has placed Mup. Although heroine of her own adventure, in reality, the adventure belongs to her parents. Her mother has been spirited into the other realm because she is in fact, heir to the witchy throne, and Mup’s father has been kidnapped as a bargaining tool to entice her mother. Mup’s grandmother is the evil queen, and Mup is largely cast as ‘in the way’; asked to look after her baby brother whilst the grownups battle over the kingdom.

This gives the opportunity for vast amounts of humour, pathos and real insight, as children will read and sympathise greatly with Mup – children so often told to wait while the grown-ups deal with the big issues.

Add to this a witchy world in which there is a matriarchy across all tribes, and a complicated relationship between Mup and her mother anyway, and this is a fascinating and compelling read. Even more satisfying is that despite being first of a trilogy, the ending to this first novel does not feel like a cheat – it wraps up nicely and yet leaves the reader wanting more. Not to be missed. You can buy it here.