It is a little self-appraising of a librarian to love a book about libraries, but that is not stopping me.
The Midnight Library, as you might imagine, is a library that is only open at night. It's regular customers include animals from all over town, and it is run by a lovely little librarian and her three assistant owls.
But things don't always run smoothly in the library. A band of musical squirrels come in, clashing their drums and banging their cymbals. But the kind librarian finds somewhere they can practice their music without disturbing the other visitors. In another corner, a wolf is crying that her story is so sad, but the librarian manages to convince her to see it through to the happy ending.
The illustrations by Kohara are gorgeous - bold and contrasting - it is the kind of book you really want to take care of.
It is a beautiful picture book about a magical library, though if you ask me, all libraries are pretty magical. Happy World Book Night!
Ruby Redfort: Catch Your Death Lauren Child London, Harper Collins, 2013, 525p
I have been searching for a suitable book for the OSA Y7 Girls Book Club, due to start after Christmas, and I really wish this book was shorter - it is perfect in every other way! Ruby's third mission takes her completely outside her comfort zone. Ruby is undergoing field training; despite the fact she has already been involved in many dangerous missions, she needs to complete this to become a fully-fledged Spectrum agent. But the wilderness test baffles her practical approach to danger; she cannot escape the unpredictable nature of the outdoors. Catch Your Death is the smelliest mission yet, in the sense, alongside all strange animal attacks happening throughout Twinford, a perfume-obsessed foe is haunting the town. And following an difficult night in the woods, Ruby has the flu, is unable to smell anything, and is struggling to keep on top of her school work and her Spectrum duties. I am a self-confessed fan of Ruby Redfort - I would have devoured Lauren Child's words when I was a kid, even more so than I devour them as an adult. I get completely lost in Ruby's adventures. In this third mission, her best friend, Clancy, seems to get a much bigger role - he is finally being recognised as a hero like Ruby. And he is fiercely loyal to her. In places, the physical book; something I noticed with the previous novels, also. There are pages where a new scene begins, but there is no distinction from the last page, meaning you have to stay on your toes to work out who you are reading about. (And I do not see this as an intentional ploy to get readers to practice their observations skills, simply an editorial mistake.) Nevertheless, the story is action packed and the book does not feel as long as it looks. You are completely drawn into the action, following Ruby and Clancy every step of the way.
We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves Karen Jay Fowler London, Serpents Tale, 2013, 308p Last week, just before the winner of the Man Booker Prize was announced, the OSA staff book club met for ice cream and a discussion about one of the shortlisted books. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves is a very unusual novel. Before reading it, I knew there was a twist, but not what that twist was (I love that avid readers do not share plot spoilers with each other, and will strive to continue that here). The narrator is Rosemary, who commences her story at the midpoint. Having been a talkative child, she has learnt to start in the middle; but her story jumps back and forth so that it slowly reveals itself over time. As an adult, she confesses to being a lot more thoughtful and quiet than she was as a child, and that may be because she has not seen her brother or her sister for many years. Instead, she has carried the burden of her parent's loss (the details of said "loss" not being immediately explained), and has become an introverted young woman. Rosemary admits to being a biased and potentially unreliable narrator. She notes that,
"An off-told story is like a photograph in a family album. Eventually it replaces the moment it was meant to capture."
As the novel progresses, it becomes clear that her childhood memories are not the same as her parent's maturer adult experiences. But the profound effect of her upbringing is clear in her adult life. Parts of this novel reminded me of William Fiennes, who writes autobiographical accounts with extracts of scientific information, about birds or epilepsy. Towards the end of We Are Completely Beside Ourselves, Karen Jay Fowler talks increasingly about animal rights; though in our book club, we felt there were a few too many inconsistencies between Rosemary's account of her experiences and her examples of cruelty to animals. One of our book club members managed to read the book twice, and said it revealed much more on a second reading. I enjoyed the experience of reading We Are Completely Beside Ourselves, but I am not sure if there were too many coincidences for my liking.
The Snow Geese William Fiennes London, Picador, 2003, 243p
I don't get much time to read adult fiction, and I have even less time to read adult non-fiction. But I love travel writing, and at the moment I have a real desire to see the world. So whilst I am confined to my home with the flu, I took upon the opportunity to let my reading take me on holiday. Following an illness that resulted in long term leave from university, a young William Fiennes finds himself interested in the birds that flock and migrate through his parent's garden. He reads his childhood favourite, The Snow Goose, and longs to track the birds as they migrate across North America. Starting out in Texas, Fiennes travels up through South Dakota into Canada, and finally to Foxe Land on Baffin Island, where the nights are short and snow holds out well into spring. He meets fascinating individuals along the way, some bird watchers, some hunters, some who couldn't care less but are kind enough to offer shelter, company or guidance. Like The Music Room, this novel flits between story-telling and providing factual information about it's subject matter. Fiennes offers his readers interesting facts about the migratory patterns of birds, including historical references to research. He also discusses the medical history of nostalgia and homesickness, which I had never really considered as a legitimate subject of medical study until I realised how much focus there has been upon this area in the past. As Fiennes travels further north, you start to notice a change in his tone - more emphasis upon the medical understanding of nostalgia reflecting a longing to go back home and a mild dissatisfaction with his trip, suggesting it is not what he expected it to be. I almost wish he wrote a follow up, exploring his readjustment to reality, but The Snow Geese is perfect as it is. I love Fiennes' writing, which I may not have come across if it hadn't been for my work with the creative writing charity, First Story. From the first line of The Snow Geese, you are gripped by curiosity, the vivid descriptions of female golfers coming to life on the page before you. I relish his prose, which draws you in and frees you from the everyday.
All the Truth That's In Me Julie Berry Dorking, Templar, 2013, 266p
When Judith returns home, her tongue cut out and the last two years a mystery to all around her, she is outcast by her society and her family, subject to looks of horror and pity. As the town talks, there is only one person she wishes to listen to her - Lucas, the boy she has always loved.
Set in the early American settlements, All the Truth That's In Me is a haunting, dark novel about abduction and young sexuality. Judith is victimised by those in her town, who assume her kidnapping was of a sexual nature; and she is continuously haunted by the feeling that men only want her as a silent object. As the story unfolds, it becomes apparent that there is more mystery to Judith's story than the townsfolk have presumed.
The novel is told in first person by Judith, who often narrates as if she is speaking directly to Lucas, pleading for his sympathy and understanding. The chapters are very short - some only a sentence long - meaning reading is easy and swift.
I found myself quite caught up in the romance - Judith's longing is heartbreakingly beautiful, as she sits on the sidelines of Lucas' life. And she is a surprisingly strong protagonist, despite her many obstacles. She is brave and strong, fighting for justice and protecting the man she loves. If anything, Lucas seems weak in comparison.
I am finding this year's Carnegie list to be surprisingly dark, especially compared to the variety of the 2013 list - many of the books would not be typically suitable for teenage readers - yet I am enjoying the journey of shadowing.
To read more of my reviews of the 2014 Carnegie shortlist, click here.
The Last Wild Piers Torbay London, Quercus, 2013, 326p
Usually, I don't really like books with talking animals - they are very hard to take seriously, especially when they are highlighting an environmental issue such as this novel. But somehow, Piers Torbay has created an original and fascinating dystopia with a true spirit of adventure.
The world of The Last Wild is very different from that which we live in. There are no animals left alive - all have been killed by a disease known as the red-eye. The people are confined to the cities, protected and fed by Factorum, a huge omniscient company that appears to be a little suspect.
Kester doesn't talk. Separated from his father, he is locked up in Spectre Hall where they send kids who are a burden on or embarrassment to society. In his room, he pretends to talk to the cockroaches, which apparently were not affected by the red-eye. Then he discovers he can communicate with animals, of which there are in fact some left alive, and a hoard of pigeons and varmints are plotting to help him escape. They take him north and show him more animals, living in solitude away from the humans, but everyday at risk from infection. They have brought him there because they have a shared dream: they believe Kester is the one who will cure them.
With a stag, a wolf-cub, and a cockroach, Kester sets off to Premuim, the city where he grew up and where he hopes his father still lives. He thinks his father, a vet, might be able to cure the red-eye. Kester is a reluctant hero, never fully believing that he will be the one to save the animals; but he is eager to be reunited with his father so agrees to help.
The Last Wild carries a strong environmental message about the impact of science and the economy on wildlife. I feel guilty about not being a vegetarian after reading about these colourful, loveable animals.
The creatures in this book a beautifully personified, making me wish I knew an adorably eager wolf-cub and a dopey pigeon. In contrast, humans don't come across well, from murderous Facto bullies to misleadingly friendly farmers. Every page of this book presents a new danger to the team, both man-made and natural. And you come away from this read feeling increasingly aware and strangely horrified about the evil we inflict on the animal world.
But the adventure doesn't end here - Kester and his friends still have a long way to go.
I have confessed in the past that I am not great with teenage fantasy, particulary when it is not written very well and it is impossible to visualise the action. However, Sky Run is far from the usual fantasy fiction - it is funny, original, and has a lesson to teach the reader.
Gemma and Martin are travelling with their Gran to start school. They have grown up in isolation on a floating island in a dystopian future where the world has been shattered into small flecks of land orbitting the sun. Gran thinks the kids would benefit from some real-life experience and the opportunity to meet other children. On the journey, the threesome face strange dangers and meet perculiar people: sky-sharks and cloud-hunters and an island of people high on kelp. With each leg of their journey, Martin and Gemma learn something new about the world of which they had previously seen so little.
I surprised myself with how much I enjoyed this novel, but I think I can pin my adoration down to the characters. The book is narrated by each of the family members, starting with Gran, a tough, brave, street-wise old woman of one hundred and twenty years. She loves the kids dearly, despite her initial reluctance to take them on when the orphans turned up on her island. When it came to the end of her monologue, I was apprehensive about reading the voices of Gemma and Martin because Gran had been so welcoming and entertaining, but the children proved to be just as interesting. Martin is a curious, sometimes naive boy, whilst Gemma has the appearance of being tough as nails but is secretly a softy.
Along the way, the people they meet teach the children something new about the world. They learn not to judge people by first appearances, that an island called 'Friendly' is far from friendly, and that rats like the smell of young boys. They also pick up some strays along the way - a warrior, taken from his family and trained as a soldier, but now alone; and a young girl who has read all the books in her father's home a million times. City Island is handing out free education to all who want it, and these individuals hugely value the opportunity.
Sky Run is an uplifting novel that takes you on a fascinating and educational journey through a strange world; but what I love most is the characters, who welcome you into their adventure with open arms.
Tiger Wars (The Falcon Chronicles) Steve Backshall London, Orion, 2012, 243p
Saker cannot remember who he is or where he has come from, but he knows he is on the run. In the forests of northern India, he is being tracked by dogs and a dangerous clan of boys, trained to hunt and kill.
Sinter is angry with her father - he is trying to marry her off to a rich doctor with no concern of what Sinter might want for herself. She runs into the forest to get some space, but accidentally finds herself caught up with Saker, on the run from a deadly enemy. Together, travel the length of India into China, slowly uncovering the reason why the clan are on the hunt - the most powerful and valuable predator of all, the tiger.
Tiger Wars is an action-packed adventure that never lets up. Saker is a highly skilled jungle expert, and his survival skills comes in handy at every turn. But Sinter is also a force to be reckoned with, fiery and practical, with a great knowledge of medicine to help them along.
I found this novel a little difficult to get into at the start - the sentences and paragraphs are incredibly long and quite poorly structured, which I think might put off a reluctant reader, even though they are the ideal audience for this story. It was dense to trawl through in places, even when the action was at it's peak, but I did enjoy the journey and characterisation.
Steve Backshall has a unique and fascinating knowledge base (survival, wildlife, georgraphy, medicine, science) that shines through in Tiger Wars. The novel is packed with factual information, but it is presented as part of the story so feels like a natural and beneficial addition to the text. The story is full of exotic locations and strange wildlife, with a strong environmental message in support of endangered species, leaving the reader with a love and respect for the magnificent tiger.
The London Murder Mysteries: The Montgomery Murder Cora Harrison London, Picadilly, 2010, 246p
Years of watching murder mysteries with my mother have led to a love of crime dramas. So when they are successfully created for a teenage audience, and set in Victorian London, we are onto an instant winner.
Alfie lives with his brother Sammy and his cousins in a Covent Garden cellar. They are children of the street, begging and performing tricks with their loyal dog to bring in enough for food and rent, but they are savvy and knowledgable. When a murder happens in a nearby street, Alfie is recruited by Inspector Denham to find out the talk about town and solve the mystery.
Mr Montgomery is recently returned to his wife and son from India, where he owned a tea plantation. It seems the crime was not commited for theft, as the body still has many valuables about it. The initial suspect is an Indian boy whose father was hanged for stealing - is this boy out for revenge? But could it be the wife or son, their peaceful lives disrupted by the return of their breadwinner; or even the suspicious Butler, clearly an angry and dangerous man?
The story is led by the young protagonists, who work almost completely without the support of any adults. They manage to find ways into the Montgomery household through a connection with the scullery maid, and they use their knowledge of the city to find people with the answers they need. But the children increasingly find themselves at risk, drawing attention to themselves as they poke around in other people's business, eager to discover the truth.
Cora Harrison has an easy, smooth writing style on which the reader can float along with the story. It is fast-paced and expertly plotted, leaving no opportunities for the reader to get bored with all the action that takes place. And the characters are succinctly developed, though you can tell there is more to learn about these four boys as the series progresses.
Michael dreams of seeing a whale. He has heard stories of times gone by when whales roamed freely around his little island, but now they have all been scared away by hunters. Every day, he works hard to save up for a boat of his own, in the hope he can one day take tours out into the waters and find some of the beautiful mammals. So when the opportunity to have his very own boat comes sooner than expected, he jumps at the chance, but remains suspicious that this might be too good to be true. Whale Boy reminded me of Saving Finnegan, which uses the issue of a washed up whale as a method of helping a young protagonist come to terms with loss. Here, Nicola Davies creates a scenario to highlight the evils of whale hunting, and challenging the reader to think about the impact of pollution and climate change on habitats and wildlife. The novel is beautifully written, full of poetic language and vivid descriptions of vast oceans and wonderful creatures. Michael's dream is uplifting and full of hope. But the story takes an unexpected turn as events unfold, swiftly turning into an action-packed thrill in which the lives of humans and animals are at stake. I couldn't quite work out the target audience for this book. It feels like it should sit somewhere between junior fiction and books for teenagers, but I imagine it would only really be selected by children who already have an interest in environmental issues and animal rights. And yet, as an adult reader, I loved the imagery and the message - perhaps it would work as a book for a family to share.
101 Poems for Children: A Laureate's Choice ed. Carol Ann Duffy ill. Emily Gravett London, Macmillan, 2013, 193p
It is a valuable skill for a poet to be able to create a succinct and engaging anthology of poetry. With so much choice, the editor must be very well read and able to create a flow through the various works of multiple artists, bringing them together in one book.
This is precisely what Carol Ann Duffy has achieved in 101 Poems for Children. The poetry comes from many authors over lots of countries across many centuries and yet it flows brilliantly. Each poem leads into the next one, without any breaks or bumps along the way.
And the selection is very entertaining, exploring tales about animals, families, seasons and journeys. There are some with rhyme and some without; some are short and some are long; but all are exceptional demonstrations of language and writing.
One of my favourites, which I had not read before, is one of Carol Ann Duffy's own: F for Fox, a lovely piece that uses the letter 'f' more times than I imagined possible in one poem! As she discusses in her introduction to the collection, children's poetry is often characterised by the rhythm and simple use of language. Recurring tropes include alliteration and simile, and writers use the full extent of poetic license to make up new words.
I've been dipping in and out of this collection over the last couple of weeks, and was sad when it came to an end; and not least because the last poem in the collection is about the wonder of libraries!!
Varmints (pt. 1) Helen Ward and Marc Craste Docking, Templar, 2007 I haven't blogged about a picture book before! I stumbled across this one because my sister is reading it for her PGCE, so I thank her for letting me borrow this. Varmints is a dystopian tale of the world without life and light. It begins with large, beautiful images of bright blue skies and wide fields, with moles living throughout, tending their bees. But then a darker world is developed, tall buildings blocking the light and heavy noises stopping people from being able to think properly. The pages go from light and inviting to dark and terrifying - you can hardly read the words on the page. So one of the moles thinks it is time for a change, and sets out to bring back the life. The images in this picture book are engrossing and mesmerising, like artwork you'd be proud to hang around your home. I'm afraid that copyright law does not allow me to copy the pictures here, so you'll have to find it and read it. And here's a lovely video to demonstrate some of the visuals:
The story is tragicly beautiful, with a pace so slow and measured it entices you. It is powerfully visual, with few words on each page but so much bold and deep art to keep your eyes from wandering. And the tale has a moral, reminding the reader of the importance of nature and life.
Perhapsfor young readers, the font is rather difficult to read. The language is not very complicated, but the words are written in thin, scratchy type, and is especially hard to read on the darker pages. It is almost like this is a picture book for adults, with dark pictures, a thought-provoking story and a dystopian setting. But maybe this is the sort of book we need in order to make picture books popular amongst older readers, and to help a shift in attitudes towards acceptance of all varieties of reading formats.
Ratburger David Walliams London, HarperCollins, 2012, 317p
It is always an unusual sensation to finish a grotesque novel and be feeling slightly peckish.
Zoe has a pretty miserable existence. Her father is always at the pub feeling sorry for himself; her stepmother is mean and greedy; and her pet hamster had just died. So when she finds a baby rat in her room, she is quick to adopt him as her new friend, even though he will land her in a lot of trouble.
Ratburger is classic Walliams: cheeky and zany. The story is ridiculous, with Zoe coming up against a chef who makes burgers out of rats. And the characters are disgusting, particularly Zoe's stepmother, who chain-eats prawn cracker crisps. She is overweight and dirty, and Walliams' language made me want to gag.
The book is brilliantly illustrated by Tony Ross, who brightens up the pages with his characerisation. The whole book seems to have been thoroughly composed, with fonts manufactured to reflect the onomatopoeic dialogue.
For me, Walliams' stories are not incredibly original, but bring classic children's stories into the modern age. Much like Roald Dahl, I imagine these will be forever loved.
Coraline Neil Gaiman London, Bloomsbury, 2009, 185p
This is a dark, sinister novel that I have been putting off reading for a while due to concerns about having nightmares...
Coraline is a bored, lonely girl. She likes exploring - out in the woods, up in her neighbours' flat, all around her new old house. Her parents are very busy so she is left to entertain herself. Then one day, she unlocks a door into another house, where the other mother and father give her lots of love and attention. They want her to stay there with her, promising to give her everything she could ever want. But Coraline just wants her real parents back.
Coraline is a clever and curious protagonist. She loves to learn new things, always asking questions about the worlds around her. Unfortunately, the adults around her are pretty useless, too caught up in their own lives to engage with and entertain her. Her little adventure is full of strange people and places, like the man who is trying to teach rats to play musical instruments and the women who reminisce extensively about their past lives as famous actresses on stage.
The world Coraline finds herself in is dark and dangerous. It looks just like her parents house, but the more she investigates the more she realises that things are not as they initially seem. Her room is brightly decorated and contains strange, living toys; and outside, the woods are incomplete, slowly becoming misty and vague the further she wanders in. And her other parents, though kind and caring in appearance, are greedy and evil, desperate to possess her soul. As a child, I was scared about my parents forgetting about me or losing me. Here, Gaiman plays on that universal fear, creating a nightmare that no child ever wishes to live.
Stick Dog Tom Watson London, HarperCollins, 2013, 189p
It's lovely to be back reading children's fiction after my half term of heavy and historical drama.
Stick Dog is a funny, adorable junior fiction book, similar in style to the Wimpy Kid books. Here, the protagonist is a strag dog, who teams up with his canine friends to gatecrash a barbeque at the local park. Together, they plot to get past the human family to the sizzling hamburgers. The novel is full of misguided planning, distracting squirrels and pretty substandard illustrations.
Watson professes from the first page that he cannot draw. His characters are all stick people / animals and the other pictures are pretty basic, but I felt this added to the book - it's not always about the details, but about getting the story across, which Watson perfects. And anyway, as long as you can differentiate between the characters, drawings don't matter too much.
Stick Dog is the sensible one in his gang - each of his friends are uniquely quirky, occassionally foolish and always hungry. Actually, this book really made me crave a hamburger!
This is a great crossover between aniamal stories and comedy - a perfect way to ease myself back into teenage literature.
How I Live Now Meg Rosoff London, Penguin, 2004, 211p
Somehow, miraculously, I managed to avoid seeing the trailer for the adaptation for this novel before I read the book. But as such, I had no idea what I was about to read - whatever I had expected, this was not it. Daisy is shipped by her father from New York to rural England in the hope that it will help her get better. She is an angry, lonely teenager suffering from anorexia. For the first few months, she finally starts to feel like she can be at peace here with her cousins; until war breaks out and the teenagers are separated, left to fight for survival in a world gone mad. I thought How I Live Now was going to be a teen romance - the blurb on my version is very ambiguous, with no mention of devastating war. Whilst in England, Daisy falls for her mysterious cousin, Edmond. She admits it might be incestuous, but when war breaks out, you forget all about the romance plot as the characters are suddenly thrust into your worst nightmare. The cause of the war is never fully clear - it is the perfect dystopia. As such, you are not preoccupied with the 'why' but focused upon the 'what'. The war is unpredictable and unexplained - no one ever seems sure of what is happening. For most of the novel, Daisy and Piper, separated from the boys, are left to fend for themselves, traipsing across the English countryside. It is picturesque and terrifying in equal measure - even if you do not live in England, you have some idea of what the countryside would be like, and here Rosoff transforms it into a vast, empty space with no refuge. Food is a significant trope throughout the novel. At first, Daisy is distracted by her need to control what she eats, venting her frustration through her eating disorder. But when faced with the possibility of being unable to find food, the war forces her to eat all she can. Whole chapters of the novel are dedicated to Daisy describing the food she finds and cooks, whilst she craves toast and butter. This is very effective - food is something we can all relate to, and by focusing Daisy's suffering on such a universal concept, the war becomes real. Even under the protection of adults, Daisy and her cousins are never safe. Throughout the novel, there is a massive disconnect between adults and children, but not in a Lord of the Flies sort of way. Instead, adults in How I Live now are completely null and void. These teenagers seem to survive better without adult supervision. Adults cannot provide answers or safety - if anything, they are the cause of all that is bad, being responsible for the war, for death and for the teenagers' separation and loss. Refreshingly, Rosoff does not patronise her protagonists - adults are not brought in to save the day - but instead shows the teenagers as the real heroes, with their love for each other overcoming all. In this way, this novel is a rare gem in which young people are truly of the greatest value.
War Horse Adapted by Nick Stafford (Michael Morpurgo) Oxford Playscripts Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2007, 127p
Last Thursday, I went with 100 year seven students to see War Horse in London. It was chaos, but that is another story - this blog is for reviews; and on my return from the theatre, I read the play. I have already reviewed the Michael Morpurgo original here, so will not repeat the story - anyway, it is pretty well known by now. However, it was very interesting to read the play just after seeing it performed, as it shed light on some of the concepts for the creation of the story on the stage. The play differs slightly from the novel - mainly in terms of the fact that the story is not told from the point of view of Joey, but from an omniscient perspective where multiple characters' stories are told. Nevertheless, Joeys feelings are expressed through his actions. For example, his early fear of people is shown through Joey's unwillingness to approach Arthur and through Arthur's one-sided conversations with the horse. In scenes where the animals are without humans, the action is described through stage directions, specifically designed to give the horses a emotive and quasi-human quality. On stage, Joey's character is performed by three expert puppeteers, who manipulate the movements of the animal to the point where you forget it isn't real. The story is full of drama and action, with much of it taking place on battlefields. Joey becomes a symbol for all that was fought for during World War One, when parents were separated from their children, lovers were separated from their sweethearts. Arthur's search for his horse becomes a symbol for humanity and love, and Joey brings all sorts of people together - Germans, French and British. The play is beautifully written, with incredibly evocative language. There was also brilliant use of other dialects (with translations) where the French and German characters were in scene. In particular, I love the monologues where Arthur talks to his horse, making promises to be together forever - this friendship is at the heart of the story and is what stays with most people long after they have finished reading.
The Outsiders Michelle Paver London, Penguin, 2012, 291p
Stuck on a train, this might not be the first book I would have chosen to have with me. But as fate would have it, The Outsiders was the only novel I remembered to pack. Fortunately, it did not disappoint.
Michelle Paver's novel is set in Greece in the Bronze Age. It's pages seep with mythology and legend. Gods watch over the land and the people, superstition and magic are everywhere, and society is structured by ancient rules and traditions.
Hylas and his sister are separated when they are attacked by the Crows - a deadly group of warriors seemingly pent on killing Outsiders, or those who are not part of the villages. Searching for his sister, Hylas finds himself in ever growing danger, always stalked by the Crows. But he is intelligent, brave and patient, better equipped than anyone to survive in the wilderness. Meanwhile, Pirra is trying to escape her mother and the fate that awaits her when they reach land: marriage. She is stubborn and ruthless, determined to run but unsure where to go. Stranded together on a desolate island, Pirra and Hylas must work together to avoid capture and find their way to safety. This novel is the first in a new series by Michelle Paver. What I find so frustrating about such a series is that you feel incomplete when you reach the end of the first part - I prefer stories to begin and end within the confines of one book. Of course the cliffhanger is designed to keep you wanting more, but this novel in particular left me feeling like the story was barely started. So much happened, but you know there is so much more to come. Within this novel, I went on an incredible journey - back to ancient Greece, down to the depth of the ocean, into the darkest caves. The land is a character, beautifully vast and powerfully enticing. For me, I think feeling like I was there with Hylas and Pirra is what made this novel something special.
Soldier Dog Sam Angus London, Macmillan, 2012, 275p
I have found this to be one of the most popular novels on this years Bookbuzz list - across the year 7s, both boys and girls love it.
Soldier Dog, on a most simple level, is War Horse with a dog. Our year 7s are currently involved in a cross-curricular project based around War Horse, with a trip to see the stage show later in the term, and many of the students have seen this similarity in reading the blurb and the first couple of pages of the novel. However, unlike Morpurgo's acclaimed novel, this is not written from the point of view of the animal involved. Stanley is a fourteen year old boy who loves animals, particularly dogs. His brother is in France, so when his angry, neglectful father turns on him, Stanley decides to run away. He is underage, but the nation is desperate, letting young and old enlist. Stanley is lucky to become a dog handler, and is matched with a loyal, enthusiastic giant of a dog. Based on the real experiences of dog handlers during World War One, this novel tells of the challenge faced by man and dog as they work together to get messages across no man's land. Soldier Dog is a tragic novel about the horrors of war and the loyalty of man's best friend.
Somehow, whilst filled with vivid descriptions of conflict and heart-wrenching moments of separation and loneliness, the story wearied me as I read. It did pick up towards the end and I found myself quite attached to Stanley and his canine friends, willing them to survive and be reuinited. I pitied Stanley - his brother physically absent whilst his father is emotionally distant - only able to find companionship with his dogs; and I adored the dogs - loyal in the face of the deadliest danger. But it is not my favourite in the 2013 selection.
I am still crying as I try to compose this review. What a masterpiece of teenage fiction. I not even halfway through the 2013 Bookbuzz list, but I think I have found a favourite.
Butterfly Summer came to my attention a few months ago when it won the Oxfordshire Book Awards. Becky and her mum have moved to Oakbridge, where Becky's mum lived before she was born. Becky has the whole of the summer to find her way around before she starts a new school, and her adventures lead her to the Butterfly Garden where she meets Rosa May. Together, they are determined to seek out the infamously evasive Silver-studded Blue, a butterfly that is incredibly rare and full of mysterious hope.
But as they spend more and more time together, the friendship between Becky and Rosa May gets increasingly complex, as the latter becomes clingy and aggressive. At home, Becky's relationship with her mother becomes strained as Becky starts to feel like she is keeping secrets. All around her, people seem to be hiding things and acting weird, but revealing the truth is never as easy as it should be.
This is such a brilliantly engaging, intelligent and exciting novel. It is so accessible, with language that lights up the pages. The Butterfly Garden is a beautiful space in which Conway explores the young girls' friendship; but even the most idyllic spaces can have a dark side.
It is here that Conway really excels. She gently lays the foundations for a thrilling, emotional story about how one can never really hide or forget the past. As you read, the story reveals itself to you, just as the secrets slowly reveal themselves to Becky.
Butterfly Summer is the perfect novel: the right length and pace; the right mix of drama, descriptive language, mystery and horror; and a brilliantly composed plot. I am in awe of Anne-Marie Conway.
