poetry

April Showers

home in the rainHome in the Rain by Bob Graham
Turning the everyday into something extraordinary, Graham is the master of embracing a child’s view of the world. This wonderful little tale follows Francie and her mum as they drive home in torrential rain from Grandma’s house. The illustrations loop in and out of the car, as the reader sees the small red car jammed between lorries and oil-tankers on the highway, before zooming into the backseat with Francie, and then out into the countryside tucked away beyond the road, with the wildlife sheltering from the wet, and up into the air as a kestrel dives.

Graham explores the sights, sounds and smells of the everyday – from an argument at an interchange, to the smell of farmyards, the squeaky sound as Francie writes on the steamed up car window, rainbow oil puddles, the noise of the radio, and finally into Francie’s imagination as she wonders what her new baby sister will be named when she’s born.

The observational perspectives of the book pick out what’s familiar and what’s new, just like the coming of a new baby. It’s an atmospheric book, empathetic, and both words and pictures express a softness that feels soothing – an ‘everything’s going to be alright’ tone. You can buy it here. 

rhythm of the rainThe Rhythm of the Rain by Grahame Baker-Smith
A book that takes an image of a small boy playing in his favourite pool on the mountainside, opens up to huge scope as it portrays Earth’s water cycle.

Isaac sees clouds dark above him, the rain pours down into the pool creating streams that flow into the river near his house (beautifully cast on stilts). The book then follows the river into the sea.

It is the ambition of the book that is so impressive. Baker-Smith conveys the cycle of water of course, explaining the ocean steaming into mist, but the magic lies within the water’s journey. He conveys how water adds to the environment, how humans, animals and vegetation interact with it across the globe and throughout time. Water is important and transient, both gentle and powerful. He shows the different ways in which water presents – its stillness in a jar of water, plunging waterfalls, laughing streams, meandering rivers, churning waves. Water is commodity, yet nature, utilitarian resource, yet something to be protected. Pure and simple in its magnitude.

And all the while referring back to Isaac. Each page is an illustrative work of art, and the words ebb and flow like poetry. The use of light in the artworks is extraordinary – Isaac’s reflection in the water as he stands in the natural pool is haunting and wondrous. Not to be missed. Buy your copy here. 

once upon a raindropOnce Upon a Raindrop by James Carter, illustrated by Nomoco
This too is the story of water, but so utterly different in style. Nomoco’s abstract watercolour feels almost like the different types of water itself – sometimes looping down the pages in the form of water-carrying pipes, at others winding its way across the page like a river. There are droplets too – inkstains in circles across a page – and always accompanied by Carter’s poetry as he explores the facts of the matter in lyrics.

Starting with the beginning of time, Carter tracks water on meteors that carry ice, all the way through to water’s uses today – keeping humans clean and healthy – as well as life’s overwhelming necessity for water.

Because each page is so different from the next, both in form of poem and execution of illustration, it allows the reader to dissect the different formations of water and the different elements to it. Modern, fresh and impactful, this makes for a refreshing imbibing of information. Get wet here.

The Proper Way to Meet a Hedgehog on World Poetry Day

the proper way to meet a hedgehogThe Proper Way to Meet a Hedgehog and Other How-To Poems selected by Paul Janeczko, illustrated by Richard Jones
It’s World Poetry Day. This eclectic anthology of poems aims to teach you how to do something, at the same time as teaching you an appreciation of fine poetry. For example, titles include ‘How to Build a Poem’, ‘How to be a Snowflake’, which made me chuckle – the next generation might be surprised at the content!

On a serious note, this is a beautiful selection of poetry, including old and new. ‘How to Tell Goblins from Elves’ by Monica Shannon feels traditional in tone and structure. Phrases including ‘willow clump’ and ‘coverlets of leaves’ speak to our sense of poetry as belonging to the natural world, yet contrasted with Kwame Alexander’s brilliant ‘Basketball Rule #2’, readers feel the brilliance of modern movement, poetic punch and fast flow and rhythm in its ‘Hustle dig / Grind push / Run fast / Change pivot’. Poetry become chant, become the game itself.

The poetry throughout is stirring and heartfelt, pure in form, and clever in wit and language, but also each subject of the poetry speaks carefully to children of primary school age – there are poems on riding bikes, playing table tennis, swings (a beautiful soaring poem from Robert Louis Stevenson – ‘Up in the air I go flying again / Up in the air and down,’), as well as bird-watching, and reading braille.

The collection also tracks cleverly through time. There’s pancake mixing, toasting marshmallows and fireworks, as well as Fourth of July celebrations, trees in winter, and snow.

‘Best Friends’ by Helen Frost sums up the magical elements of poetry – the atmosphere of the ‘summer night’, the anticipated meeting of a friend, the instructions on how to blow a signal through a grass whistle: ‘hold it straight and tight -/bring grass and thumbs/up to your mouth/and blow.’ With a colour wash behind the words – which are themselves given space to breathe on a whole double page spread – the colours capture the beauty of the summer sunset: reds, blues, purples, yellows adrift across the page. The reader can almost smell the summer breeze, the magic.

Some with repetition, some with rhyme – each poem plays with the space on the page, and has been set against beautiful illustrations that are soft and complementary. ‘How to Ride a New Bike’ by April Halprin Wayland is illustrated by a lush autumn day – the bike not the focus of the page, but rather the close-up of the hedge and animals, the bee buzzing, the dog chasing – giving a sense of the freedom and natural wonder expressed by the words of the poem: ‘Quick, quiz, Cycling Whiz’. The poem is cryptic – implying recklessness and speed contrasting with safety and surety – daring to do something.  

The ending of the book is smart too – the last poem in the book ‘How to Pay Attention’ comprises two lines only: ‘Close this book. Look.’ Again, beautifully illustrated to show doorway through doorway – a world of openings awaits. Wise, simple, illuminating and inspirational. Happy World Poetry Day. You can pre-order it here. Publishing 4th April 2019.

National Poetry Day 4th October 2018

poetry for a change

It’s National Poetry Day on 4th October, and the first ever official National Poetry Day Anthology, Poetry for a Change, illustrated by Chie Hosaka, has been published to celebrate. It holds a fantastic variety of poems on the topic of ‘change’ by a selection of exciting modern poets. Not only are their poems included, but they have each chosen to share the reasons or inspiration behind their poetry in a short paragraph, as well as a companion piece from the classical canon, and their motivation for choosing it.

This neat conceit showcases how older, classical poems and poets can spark ideas and provide inspiration for new poems. Our modern poets explore not only their reasons for choosing the classical poem but they also make it accessible. The poems are not too long, and the accompanying explanations are in bitesize format.

There is a special impact that poetry can have upon young children – some who find a whole novel difficult to grasp or wade through, can find solace in a poem’s small chunks of text, can see possibility in the lack of right or wrong answer for their interpretation. Poetry provides time to dream, time to think, time for the mind to seek connections.

And the theme of change is topical. Politically, it feels as if the world is going through huge changes, but sometimes it’s the little individual changes that can make a difference – a change in an approach, a change in emotions, a change in the way we present ourselves, a change in the way we see others, a change in behaviour…

Poetry for a Change is simply illustrated too, with black line drawings that give an extra dimension to the poetry, an extra resource. Below, I’m delighted to share Rachel Rooney’s poem, explanation and companion poem. Her theme is a changing life cycle – the caterpillar.


Also, readers might like to take a look at A Kid in My Class, poems by Rachel Rooney, illustrations by Chris Riddell. This unique, daring selection features a poem on each different child within a class – the daydreamer, the new boy, the one who fidgets, the cool kid, the joker and so many more. The genius lies in the fact that the poems will resonate for the teacher of the class, but each child will see some of their own character in some of the poems – there’s an artist in some of us, a drama queen in others, a best friend too. Full of both emotion, and knowledge of the classroom, this is a superb collection, brilliantly illustrated by Riddell, who has also managed to pick out the unique look of each child. If nothing else, it will certainly make you wince in recognition, and laugh at the wit. Poetry has never seemed more alive and more relevant. You can buy Poetry for a Change here, and A Kid in My Class here.

a kid in my class

 

 

I Am the Seed: Kate Wilson Explores Choosing Poetry

I am the seed that grew the treeThis autumn a most beautiful poetry anthology for children is published. A collaboration between Nosy Crow and The National Trust, I Am the Seed That Grew the Tree contains 366 poems – a poem for every day of the year, including leap years. However, unlike other anthologies of poems for every day, these poems are thematically linked by nature. There’s the temptation to open immediately on one’s birthday, or an anniversary, but browsing through the book from start to finish gives a sublime impression of the impact of nature – from the illustrations of spring blossom through to the resplendent colour of summer flowers to the golden brown and orange glow of autumn leaves, pumpkins and bonfires.

Because along with full-colour illustrations throughout, the book has been published with unrestrained, lavish production – there is a ribbon marker, a cloth cover, and thick hardy pages. In fact, it lends an authority and feeling of treasure to this book, combining wonderful poems – a magnificent collection of old and new, a mix of songs and poems, haikus in translation, (although most are English language and reflect a UK heritage and representation of seasons and nature, like The Lost Words) – with exquisite inviting illustrations.

The poems in the collection include old favourites, giving comfort in their familiarity, but also less well-known poems, from 185 poets including Emily Bronte, Christina Rossetti, Thomas Hardy, Carol Ann Duffy and John Agard to name just a few, and all the poems are short and accessible.

The collection is aimed at any age because although the illustrations may be child-friendly and the poems short, the book carries a trusty authoritative air as a rich poetry resource. The full landscape illustrations with exquisitely detailed animals work alongside the poems to inspire both a feeling of wonder at the natural world around us, yet also a wonder of looking within ourselves to understand the possibility of ideas and feelings encompassed within a few rhythmic words.

I’m delighted to welcome Kate Wilson, Nosy Crow’s Managing Director, to MinervaReads to explain the process of selecting the poems:

Choosing the 366 poems for I Am The Seed That Grew The Tree was a joy! Fiona Waters drew on her amazingly rich knowledge of contemporary and classic poetry to come up with the core selection, and the editor, our head of picture books, Louise Bolongaro, and I continually bombarded her with things we found, and things we loved, and she incorporated them into her huge collection. We then began the challenging task of arranging them.

First of all, poems had to suit the season, and, more specifically, the month they were placed in: we had more poems about snow than we had potentially snowy days to use them in. Then, where we had more than one poem on a double page spread, we had to make sure that the poems were relatively short, so the words didn’t swamp the illustration, because the visual pleasure of this book is that it is illustrated not with little vignettes, but with big pictures, big swathes of colour. And we wanted to have a range of poems in close sequence, so that, if you read the book sequentially, simple poems sat together with more complex ones, newer poems nudged older ones, funny poems jostled up against solemn ones, and famous names accompanied less familiar voices.

This was a book that we published in collaboration with The National Trust, whose guardianship of natural spaces in England was an important value that we wanted to reflect. So we worked hard to ensure that, with a very few exceptions, the poems reflected nature that a child in the UK was familiar with: there are no poems about tigers or banyan trees in this book, but there are poems about hedgehogs and dandelions. This meant that the poetic tradition that the book drew upon most was primarily the English-language pastoral poetry tradition, and we had to work hard to balance this with voices from outside that tradition – poets of colour writing in English, and Yoruba, Native American and Japanese voices are included. We also sought to include many women poets, including Judith Nicholls, whose poem, Windsong, gave us the title of the anthology:

I am the seed

that grew the tree

that gave the wood

to make the page

to fill the book

with poetry.

 

We operated on the ‘Field of Dreams’ principle: if you build it, they will come – they, in this instance, being customers and readers. We compromised on no aspect of this book. Only around a third of the poems, for example, are out of copyright. We had to pay for the permission to include two thirds of the poems in the book, and some of the costs were high! Sometimes, in clearing permissions, we ran into unexpected problems. There’s no A A Milne in the book, because you can’t re-illustrate A A Milne’s poetry. And who knew that several of Emily Dickinson’s poems are still in copyright because they were published in the form in which we know them long after her death?

Right up to the last moment, we were shuffling poems around to get the best possible mix and sequence. I can say, hand on heart, that, in my experience a book has never been touched so lovingly by more hands as it was being made. We only hope that it will be touched lovingly by many hands now it is ready to meet its readers.

I Am the Seed That Grew the Tree is illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon, poems selected by Fiona Waters, with an introduction by Kate Wilson. It is published by Nosy Crow in association with the National Trust, and you can buy a copy here.

 

Inspiring a New Generation of Space Experts

Stephen Hawking once declared that his goal was simple: “It is a complete understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all.” At what point do we begin to wonder about the universe, and when to want to understand it? Young readers in the library are often my most inquisitive. The five and six year olds gravitate towards non-fiction, asking questions about genes and trees, dinosaurs and evolution. And they have only to look up at the night sky to ask the big questions.

space kidsSpace Kids: An Introduction for Young Explorers by Andrea De Santis and Steve Parker
Space Kids introduces each element with a first person narrative voice. Nebula speaks first, explaining it is a wispy cloud of gas and dust. Then come Star and Constellation, Solar System and Asteroid. The text is clear and matter-of-fact with small tidbits of information. Steve Parker is a veteran of such non-fiction, and his clarity shines through.

The illustrations, showing a range of children exploring and enjoying their learning, changes tack halfway through, with a strange, almost futuristic look on the double page spread about rocks – narrated by Ariane 5.

The book then reverts to its colourful, child-friendly appearance towards the end, although finishes on a bit of a dud note with the page entitled ‘You’: vastly unnecessary and somewhat patronising.

What’s interesting is that the book leaves the impression of giving a general appreciation of Earth and space rather than imparting bucketloads of knowledge. But perhaps, at this age, some inspiration is necessary – inspiring curiosity is a major asset. You can buy it here.

once upon a starOnce Upon A Star by James Carter and Mar Hernandez
Told in rhyming poetry, this is another non-fiction book that bends to narrative and creative forms to impart information.

The poem tells the story of how the Earth was created, from emptiness and nothing to the Big Bang and through to the formation of the Earth and all that dwells upon it. It’s a feat of ingenuity that the rhyme and rhythm expertly tell the story while remaining true to their forms, and this alone is impressive.

But matching that is the brightness of the images, the almost retro-colour palette that also delights and inspires – the constant use of lines to indicate bursts of sun or energy, and a playfulness with the typeface that swirls the words around the page, whilst always maintaining legibility. It is smart to look at as well as to read.

This book, as the one above, aims to inspire as much as educate, although it gives the ‘sciencey’ bit at the end with some key facts spelt out acrostically.

This book leads to exploration and discovery and is beautifully produced. If read enough at bedtime, it could definitely inspire a future astrophysicist. You can buy it here.

Although both books show that science and the arts can mesh successfully, by taking narrative or poetic forms, sometimes the factual information given can feel a little light. For other space books, check out this blog here.

Charlie and Me by Mark Lowery

charlie and meAt first glance a simple tale of brothers who take a train journey back to the destination they holidayed at the year before, this wonderfully nuanced novel turns into something much more profound and moving.

Thirteen-year-old Martin, and his younger brother Charlie, are travelling 421 miles from Preston to the tip of Cornwall to recapture the wonder and delight they experienced when they watched a dolphin the previous summer.

But travelling unaccompanied has its hazards and pitfalls, and Martin almost stumbles just purchasing the ticket. And Charlie is not a normal child; he was born too early and needs extra care and attention.

There is so much to like about this novel. The detailed compartmentalised journey – each section of the novel separated into the segments of the journey, be they train times or just sitting on a bench on a platform waiting, work brilliantly, because they pace the novel, and set the tone. Each minute is accounted for: visiting the toilets on the platform, taking a train in the wrong direction, and by doing this Lowery captures a child’s anticipation and excitement of a journey, as well as the small details children notice, such as the other people, the atmosphere, the passing landscapes.

Martin takes his notebook along, and encouraged by a teacher at school, he jots down poems as a way to remember what he’s doing, and express his emotions. The physical book reproduces Martin’s poems on lined paper, in between the journey narrative, which is a nice production touch. But the poems also indicate to the reader the journey of Martin’s mind, as his thoughts become more intense and his emotions confused.

There are occasional flashbacks too, to the summer before, when Martin and Charlie first observed the dolphin from the Cornish harbour, and these capture the wonder of nature, the excitement of the dolphin’s leap from the water, and also the local community who track the dolphin’s whereabouts.

Through the present tense journey, and the flashbacks, Lowery cleverly delineates the sibling relationship, expressing Martin’s pride in his responsibility, yet also impatience and frustration, particularly with Charlie, who is unique and vulnerable. There is also plenty of humour wrapped up in the shades of their relationship; the authenticity of sibling kindnesses and annoyance shines through.

This is particularly apparent in the dialogue between the brothers, and in Martin’s thought-process as he spells out his worries and his protective nature. But mainly, the book feels chatty and warm – these characters make you want to journey with them.

Lowery drops clues throughout the story that this journey isn’t all it seems. Four hundred and twenty one miles is a long way to go to revisit a dolphin, and astute readers will work out that something else is awry too. The final denouement is quite devastating, and will be upsetting for many, because in the end this is not a tale of adventure but a story that deals with mental health and loss.

Despite this shattering turn at the end, the story does feel uplifting – exemplified by the care and support around Martin, and kindness of strangers throughout the book. And what’s more the clues and strands tie together neatly at the end, and will provoke thought and discussion.

The style is easy to read, the plot paced beautifully, and yet the book is also emotionally sophisticated. In turns, light and deep, this is an inspiring read. You can buy it here.

First Day of Spring

This week heralds the official first day of Spring, apparently named because in the 14th century ‘springing time’ was a reference to the time of year when plants were ‘springing’ from the ground. And so, a few nature books for you, to usher in the return of migratory birds and draw inspiration from the natural world.

bird houseBird House by Libby Walden, illustrated by Clover Robin
Beautifully designed, with lift-the-flap features, this is a perfect first nature book for little hands. Adorably shaped like a house, the book endeavours to teach about different bird species and their homes. The first page deals with ducks, and man-made duck houses, but also features nests, and gives the names for male and female ducks, groups and babies.

The book goes on to cover pigeons and doves, woodpeckers, swallows, sparrows and owls, with hints at the back for how to create a bird-friendly outdoors space. The book is as sturdy as you’d want a bird house to be, with earthy colours throughout, and much green. The illustrations are cartoon-like rather than anatomical, but layered with wonderful textures, and give a true indication of colouring.

Also available is Bug Hotel, with facts about favourite garden insects and instructions for building your own bug hotel. An attractive, lively and informative start for young readers. You can buy it here.

 

 

earth verseEarth Verse by Sally M Walker and William Grill
Something completely different in this stunning picture book that tells the story of the Earth through poetry and illustration.

A haiku on each page simply suggests the beauty and majesty of the planet we live on, starting with a pulled-back image of the Earth as seen from space, with swirling blue and white. The book progresses through a host of illustrations that draw near or zoom out – from the outer crust to layered sediment, huge cliffs and fossil finds, to small flowers perched upon sand dunes.

Each has a concentrated description in this briefest form of poetry, and each illustration in coloured pencil is an impression rather than a factual diagram – a brushstroke of nature. It suits the poetry, which aims to inspire and to emote, (with further reading resources given at the back). The illustrations also suit the sensibility of the book, which is child-friendly and dreamlike in tone.

Colours stream throughout the book – blue to start as we see the planet from space, startling red for fire, then stripes of wonder as the rocks shift and layer with sediment.

The words resound with magnitude, as Walker gallops through dramatic natural events – a volcano, a tsunami, a storm – showing the violence and force, as well as the calm of a gull wearing ‘sand socks’ as it leaves footprints across the shore.

Walker uses personification to bring the haikus close to readers – the intimacy of the fiery fingers, the tiptoes of the creatures. The hotheaded mountain throwing an igneous tantrum. The words and images are both appealing and familiar.

And together Grill and Walker add elements of where there is an Intersection of human involvement in nature, an interaction with our planet.

There are also pages of prose information at the back; the reader is guided to these by a visual key of nine symbols, including minerals, fossils, glaciers, groundwater. These full paragraphs explain their topic well, but the diagrams accompanying are unlabelled and therefore tricky for a novice to decipher.

One for inspiration and awe. 8+ years. You can buy it here.

treesWhat On Earth? Trees by Kevin Warwick and Pau Morgan
For full-on, comprehensive knowledge, What On Earth? is an immensely high quality non-fiction series. This particular book covers all aspects of trees (for the very young), and also ties the basic scientific knowledge into hands-on activities, as well as interconnecting it with culture and history – something for which cross-curricular teachers will be grateful.

The first section takes a look at the different parts of a tree – with an in-depth look at leaves and their shapes and sizes, followed by information spreads on seeds and dispersal, needles and trunks. Interspersed between the information pages are spreads labelled ‘investigate’ or ‘create’ and these contain activities. Both artistic – creating a tree on paper using fallen leaves, to scientific – testing how far seeds travel – there is something for everyone.

The ideas are simply explained and easy to execute, but inspirational and fun. Drawing in other cultures and their stories adds a new dynamic, and of course there is the requisite section on global warming and the effect upon trees.

The digital illustrations are colourful, bright and friendly, and encourage the reader to really engage with the natural world, looking at what grows around them and giving clear step-by-step guidance on the activity spreads. The book will not only teach about trees, but about how to conduct first scientific experiments of exploration and investigation.

There’s an easy conclusion to draw here – this is a fantastic piece of non-fiction in which every page earns its worth – the tree this book originated from would be proud! 6+ years. Buy your own here.

The Lost Words by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris

the lost words
This week, out of curiosity, and stemmed from my admiration of a heartfelt and well-crafted newspaper article on the attempt to reconnect children with words to describe nature, I ordered one of the largest, most beautiful books I’ve ever seen from my local bookshop. The publishers are at pains to point out that it’s not just for children, but for all, and I would concur. This week’s book of the week is for you as much as for your child.

The Lost Words by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris is an oversize book of ‘incantations’ or poems, highly illustrated in full-colour, laid out as an ABC of nature, featuring such words as fern, heron, kingfisher, newt and willow. Publishers often talk about whether a pairing of author and illustrator works – Dahl and Blake, Simon and Ross. Here, the force of the words matches the force of the illustrations in the most exquisite way.

Perhaps Morris set out to create a work of paintings to rival the beauty of nature itself – a paean at least. And indeed the artwork is literally breath-taking – I gasped at the first spread on which I opened the book – the branches and leaves stood out as if in 3D. The capture of light on a glowing conker is mesmerising. The layering of the artwork, the exquisite capturing of nature in flux and flight is simply stunning. And there is a thread of gold running through the book – gold foil on the cover – and gold within that marks the book as a ‘treasure’, as something more than mundane. Macfarlane points out that it is reminiscent of medieval illuminated manuscripts, and indeed it implies that what is contained within is to be held in reverence – as with nature itself.

The book runs through an ABC (although some letters are used more than once) of acrostic poems, ‘incantations’, all related to nature. Each subject is attributed three spreads – an illustrated word lost, the poem and illustration, and then a spread depicting the subject within a landscape. Or, in more poetic language – the word slipping away, the summoning poem, and the word being spelled back.

When Macfarlane speaks, (having heard him on the radio), it’s like a tumbling bubbling river running over rocks; he speaks fast as if the words are so numerous he is desperate to give them voice. This is one way of reading the ‘incantations’ held within the book, just hearing the sounds the words make, like a playful witch’s spell, an inner prayer to nature, a chanting even. Indeed, it is anticipated that these ‘incantations’ are to be spoken aloud. Yet another way of reading these acrostic poems is to savour every chosen word – for chosen they most certainly are. The individual vocabulary, the way the words meet each other in phrases, the space around the words on the page.

The poems reflect diversity in their literary artistry. The incantation to the bluebell uses the metaphor of water when thinking about the blue of bluebells. On the next page the picture shows the woodland floor awashed in blue, looking almost like the sea – only the fox prowling through and an owl in flight keep the image grounded among the trees.

The fern breathes with alliteration on the ‘f’ sounds, and Macfarlane uses consonance with the ‘l’ and ‘r’ sounds. The heron incantation explores the relationship between urbanity and nature with its steel metaphor.

There is a duality to the given title of the book. Partly, Morris’s and Macfarlane’s inspiration came following the news in 2015 that around 50 words connected with nature were being cut from the Oxford Junior Dictionary because they had fallen out of use. Almond, blackberry and crocus made way for analogue, block graph and celebrity as long ago as 2007. Naming, as Macfarlane points out, is essential: “We do not care for what we do not know, and on the whole we do not know what we cannot name.” This naming returns the lost words to our vernacular. But, the words of the landscape speak not only to knowledge, but also to the history of the land, the cultural and rural identity of the words we use to describe things.

I would argue that the title also speaks to the reader who will get lost within the book, because the words and artworks are so powerful, so intoxicating. It has the power both to immerse the reader but also to enthrall the reader and entice them to look around them at the outside world.

It’s a big and heavy book, quite difficult to shelve, but that’s probably because it’s not meant to be shelved. It’s meant to lie around the house or garden or field, open and inhaled. At this size and potency, it certainly won’t be lost. You can buy it here.

 

Writing poetry and prose: Brian Moses


Human beings like to classify and label things – it’s how we distinguish one thing from another, it’s how we name things to be able to convey and signify ideas to each other. One only has to look at John Locke’s An Essay Concerning Human Understanding to see a grasp of these principles. In writing, we like to clarify the difference between prose – from the Latin meaning straightforward – and poetry. Tomorrow is National Poetry Day, and children in schools up and down the country will be pulling out poetry from their bookshelves, and hopefully reading it and enjoying it. One of our foremost children’s poets is Brian Moses, but this National Poetry Day, he’s also published a prose novel.

Of course sometimes the line between poetry and prose is blurred. Both communicate ideas, feelings, a story; and both play with language, crafting it so that what is said is not only communicated in language but also by the choice of language, the positioning of the words, the use of punctuation. Two authors (Sarah Crossan and Kwame Alexander) immediately spring to mind when crossing the borders between the genres, because most readers think about novels as being written in prose form, whereas these two write some of their novels in free verse poems. There are some who call poetry a form of art, and prose merely communication; but overall I think the distinction would have to be the sound crafted from poetry – the overarching stretch of the meaning by the way the poem sounds. With prose, the meaning is inherent within the text, held within it.

Python doesn’t ring with the same sounds as Moses’s poem, The Snake Hotel, for example (which you can listen to here), but it definitely strikes a chord of fear in the reader, and is written in clear, precise prose.

Daniel lives with his zookeeper father, and also with his father’s pet snake, a python residing in the attic. Unfortunately, Daniel is terrified of the snake and his imagination conjures up the horrors of the snake’s escape from its cage. But added to Daniel’s nightmares is his waking life, in which he is bullied by a girl gang who roam the streets on his way to and from school.

When he starts to study the Second World War at school, as well as taking refuge from the girl gang in his grandfather’s house, the stories of the past start to merge with Daniel’s current fears, and before long snakes, girls and ghosts of the past all converge.

Moses’ prose is certainly more straightforward than some of his poetry, but it still conveys plenty of emotion. A whizz with language, the author uses his prose form to whip the plot at pace, and with economy, so that action is always forefront, all the time managing to eke out enormous authenticity in the characters. From Daniel and his friend Errol and their believable camaraderie, to the relationship between Daniel and his grandfather – the weariness from boys who despair of that generation’s ‘going on about the war’ and so rarely visit, but also seek wisdom and enlightenment and eventually realise that their grandparents are real people with exciting stories to impart.

The book is set in the 1980s with all the freedom afforded to children that this entails – ghost-hunting on their own, and the lack of health and safety implied in keeping snakes in attics, and yet the novel also touches on parental break up and a child returning to an empty house from school – something that feels completely up to date.

An entertaining mix of history, the supernatural, contemporary families, and snakes. You can buy your own copy here.

A Guest Post from Poet Rachel Rooney

The first poems I recall being read to me were those of Edward Lear – The Jumblies, The Owl and the Pussycat and other nonsense poems. I was around four years old, staying overnight at my grandparents’ house. Being read to before bed felt like a major treat, because being the fifth of six children meant those night time rituals didn’t happen very often at home. I’m sure back then I didn’t follow all of what I heard, but I felt the tone and mood of the poems and remember being fascinated and a little scared of the Gorey illustrations. I also enjoyed listening to the lilt, inflections and changing rhythms of my grandfather’s voice as he read.

I have another early of memory of kneeling in church (I was brought up in a devout Catholic family), listening to the incantatory chants of The Latin Mass whilst leaning my head on the pew in front and sniffing the dark aroma of waxed and polished wood. The fact that I had no clue as to what was being spoken about felt almost liberating. I focussed on the music of the words alone and I enjoyed the differences I heard. That was also poetry, of sorts.

Ours was a relatively chaotic and impoverished upbringing, with few toys or treats, but it was full of books and talk of them. I was an avid, early reader and literature was my escape, my entertainment and comfort. Poetry was always part of that other world I entered. I particularly remember enjoying reading the children’s poems of Charles Causely, Ted Hughes and Christina Rossetti. And later on, Spike Milligan’s Silly Verse for Kids (which at the time of publication – early seventies – seemed very fresh and modern). My father was an Irish- born English teacher who lived and breathed literature. He would quote apposite lines from poems across the dinner table to prove a point he was making, he’d named one family cat Skimbleshanks after T.S. Eliot’s Book of Cats and the other, Kinsella after the poet Thomas Kinsella. Once, aged around nine, I’d complained to him of the usual summer holiday boredom. So he sourced the Witches’ Speech (Macbeth) and challenged me and my older sister to learn it. Amazingly, we did. It was that sort of household.

I don’t recall studying poetry at primary school although I do remember enjoying the ground-breaking and eclectic educational series of poetry anthologies called Junior Voices and the older, Voices that were published in the 1970’s.

I wrote some poetry as a child too, though only remember doing so at home. I was an enthusiastic writer and had a natural ear for rhythm and rhyme though I never showed my efforts to anyone. It didn’t occur to me to do so, partly because I was writing for my own amusement.

I stopped reading and writing poetry in my early teens. It became just something I studied at school – another subject to get a good mark in. Later, in my teens and early twenties, I subverted my love of words into listening to song lyrics; Cohen, The Velvet Underground, Love. I went on to become a special needs teacher and I raised my family. Though I continued to read literature, I didn’t pick up a poetry book or write until I was entering my forties, when life became tricky and I instinctively reached out for what felt most familiar and necessary. That proved to be poetry. Once I had rediscovered poetry, it became all-consuming. Five years later, I published my first collection The Language of Cat.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I would have continued to explore poetry through my teens and beyond had I been given the opportunities and encouragement to share and develop my writing. What I do know, though, is that the early drip-drip exposure to poetry and its word power lay the essential foundations that made me the poet that I eventually became.

Rachel Rooney is an award winning poet. Her poetry collections include The Language of Cat (which you can buy hereand My Life as a Goldfish (click here).  Rachel will be performing at King’s Hall Ilkely on 3rd October with The Children’s Bookshow in a lively and interactive event where she will also talk about what poetry is, how it makes us feel and where the ideas for poems come from.

Rachel is a National Poetry Day Ambassador.   National Poetry Day is on 28th September 2017. She chaired the judging panel for the 2017 CLiPPA Poetry Award and is a judge of the Betejman Poetry Prize.

For more information about Rachel see http://www.rachelrooneypoet.com or find her on twitter @RooneyRachel

Photo credit: Michael Thorn