Roy Kane TV Detective
Steve Bowkett
London, A&C Black, 2008, 80p
The Colour Graphix series has had a recent reprint and now they look great! Originally published in 1998, the books in this collection are brightly illustrated, full of drama, and ideal for reluctant readers.
When a diamond is stolen from the city museum, Roy Kane TV Detective is on the case. The diamond belongs to Magnus Carmody, a billionaire. CCTV footage shows a mysterious dark shape entering and leaving the room, so Kane and his partner, Vicki Stand, turn to local celebrity magician for ideas. But Doctor Praetorius is unable (or unwilling) to help. He seems like the obvious suspect, but nothing is ever what it seems.
The story is accessible and not overly complicated, but engaging enough for younger readers to want to keep reading.
My Swordhand is Singing
Marcus Sedgwick
London, Orion, 2006, 194p
I have finally been able to return to the realms of the Gothic - horrah!
Peter lives in the a small village, on the edge of the woods, with his father. Both are woodcutters, though with his old age setting in and his reliance on alcohol, Peter's father does not contribute much.
Chust is the first village Peter and his father have settled in for some time, having previously preferred to be on the move. Peter is glad of the respite, happy to be falling for the prettiest girl in the village; but he is conscious that everything is not as it seems. There is talk of dead husbands returning to their wives, and as winter draws nearer, the superstitious townsfolk take to decorating their homes against the Shadow Queen.
My Swordhand is Singing is packed full of drama and drowning in Gothic horror. The whole of my English department love him, asking every year if I can get him to visit for World Book Day (no luck yet! - he's a busy man). This novel is part of the year nine curriculum at OSA, and I am always impressed by the number of students who come looking for further Sedgwick reads.
Clockwork, or All Wound Up
Philip Pullman
London, Corgi, 1996, 92p
Clockwork is one of the novels the year seven read towards the end of the academic year. I am pretty sure I have read it before, but as I reread, I was delighted that I couldn't remember it, so got to enjoy it all over again.
In a small German town, everyone is buzzing with excitement about the new figure that will appear in the clock tomorrow. An apprentice clock maker is coming to the end of his training, and tradition dictates he must add his own touch to the town timepiece. But Karl is not ready - he has not managed to create anything, so he sits in the Tavern listening to the dark and terrible tales of the local storyteller.
And when one of the so-called characters of the story arrives in the Tavern, a man who some say is the devil, it becomes clear that the wind up figures might be more than they first appear.
Pullman's short story explores some complex ideas about good and evil, and about the power of pure love. It draws on tropes from traditional fairy tales, with murder and death contrasted against the innocence of a child, wrapped in a moral about having a good soul.
But it is also surprisingly haunting - I haven't read a gothic tale like this in some time, and expect to find myself having some weird dreams tonight...
The Land of Decoration
Grace McCleen
London, Vintage, 2012, 291p
I intend for this summer to be the summer I read all those books that have been sat on the shelf behind my desk waiting to be read. This last weekend I have spent in Somerset with First Story, and although I didn't get much time to read (because I was doing other awesome things), I did find the time to indulge in The Land of Decoration.
Judith is a Jehovah's Witness. Like her father, she believes the end of the world is imminent, and soon she will be reunited with her lost mother. Within the confines of her room, she dreams of this new and beautiful land, playing with the world she has created out of cardboard and string. But when one of her playtime dreams comes true, Judith learns that such power comes with terrible responsibility.
You cannot help but sympathise with Judith. Her father still mourns the loss of her mother; her classmates pick on her and exclude her; and society calls names at her for her beliefs. She finds refuge in her religion, talking to the voice of God; and her experiences prove there are good people in the world - her teacher, for example, is a diamond in an otherwise tragic story.
Although I found this novel took some time to develop, it turned into something of a psychological thriller. It reminded me of The Icarus Girl - in The Land of Decoration, Judith finds companionship with her Godlike voice, and slowly their conversations turn dark.
I love the way this novel is written, drawing from a Biblical style that parallels Judith's imaginary world creation. I am not sure what Grace McCleen is trying to say about religion in this novel, and I am hesitant to speculate, but what I found fascinatingly thought-provoking was the sway between Judith's psychological distress and her ability to find peace in her faith in God.
But what was most poignant was the relationship between Judith and her father, a man who stands weak beneath the loss of his wife, the pressures of his faith and his distance with the society around him. You never doubt he loves his daughter, but you spend the whole novel wishing he could fully share his love and his life with her.
Amulet: The Stonekeeper
Kazu Kibuishi
London, Scholastic (Graphix), 2008, 187p
The Amulet series was recommended to me by a year 7 girl of low ability but high enthusiasm. I like to check out as many of the books that I buy as possible, particularly if it is part of a series. And with this graphic novel, I was immediately gripped, thrown into an action-packed thriller with beautiful illustrations.
Emily, Navin and their mother move to their great-grandfather's long-abandoned house, shortly after a family tragedy. Whilst cleaning up the place, the children stumble upon some untold secrets in mysterious rooms, and Emily finds an enchanting necklace. In the night, strange noises creak around the house, and on investigation, their mother is taken by a disgusting tentacled creature. Emily and Navin follow close behind, determined to get their mother back at any cost.
The children make a formidable team, demonstrating the power of young protagonists. They are supported by a brilliant, original team of heroes, made up of robots and rabbits. It is a magical tale, in a world where anything can happen and anyone can exist - a fantastic demonstration of limitless imagination.
The design of the book is phenomenal. I couldn't take my eyes of the pages, taking in the detail of the illustrations, especially the landscapes. This is the first book in an extended series, and I cannot wait to see where we go next!
Call Down Thunder
Daniel Finn
London, Macmillan, 2013, 306p
I didn't expect to enjoy this novel as much as I did. For some reason, the blurb set me up for a fantasy, though re-reading that now I cannot recall why. And yet, although initially challenge to engage with, I found myself enthralled as the plot developed.
Reve works the boats in the docks, bringing in fish and selling them to make a living. The town is impoverished, run by a dangerous and aggressive señor. And Reve's sister, Mi, wants to track down their mother, who abandoned them eight years ago. When they start asking questions about where she is, some of the answers probably aren't what the two teenagers wanted to hear.
My initial problem with this novel was the language - specifically the dialogue. Whilst the descriptive passages are vivid and detailed, the conversation was dialectic, and I struggled to grasp it. Some of the descriptive passages are also colloquial, with sentences running on from line to line, but I felt this added to the tension and drama. And as the story went on, I became accustomed to the language and gripped by the characters and their adventures.
The story is carried by violence, drug dealing and gun crime, and the two young protagonists get caught up in the drama whilst innocently trying to find answers about their mother. It is unclear where Call Down Thunder is set, but I assume it is South America due to some cultural and geographical references. I am not sure if it is good or bad that the location is not specified, because, regardless, the setting was incredibly real to me. The small fishing village in which Reve lives is brought to life amongst the violence and drama; and later, the characters venture to the city, which is buzzing and thriving with life and terror.
Reve is a great lead character - he is loyal and sensitive, but also wise and brave. But I was disappointed by the females in this book. The adult women fell into stereotypical categories of wife and lover, whilst Mi, Reve's teenage sister, was labelled a witch within the story. She is thought to have magical powers, which are revered and feared by the villagers in equal measure. In fact, a rational explanation would suggest that she suffered from fits and was mildly autistic. I wavered between seeing her as a brave, independent young woman to being frustrated that she was so dependent upon the men around her, and was trapped by the burden of her epilepsy. And I am unwilling to ruin the ending, but that didn't do her many favours, either.
Yet, overall, I would recommend Call Down Thunder. It is original and feisty, keeping you intrugied with mystery and drama.
Lockwood & Co: The Screaming Staircase
Jonathan Stroud
London, Doubleday, 2013, 440p
I am not a huge fan of ghost stories - either I find it too hard to suspend my disbelief or I get too creeped out - and I abhor hard back novels - they are much too hard to read in comfort. And yet, I found The Screaming Staircase to be a clever, gripping horror story with witty and complete characters.
The story begins with Lockwood and Co on a case. Lucy and Lockwood have been left alone in a haunted house, where the owners suspect evil is hidden somewhere. Armed with iron filings and rapiers, the two young detectives set out to find the Source. Lucy can hear the whispers of the ghost, whilst Lockwood is able to see them in the dark. Children are more sensitive to the elements, and across England, bands of young ghost hunters are employed to find and suppress ghosts.
I loved that this novel jumped right into the action - in the second part of the novel, Lucy takes us back to contextualise the situation, explaining all about the Problem. Some fifty years ago, sightings and hauntings increased dramatically, giving rise to a number of government policies to protect people from ghosts. The most popular solution tended to be the use of agencies such as Lockwood & Co., though this company is somewhat smaller of staff and reputation than some of it's competitors. Throughout the novel, Lockwood, his business partner George, and their new employee, Lucy, plot to get the company to the top of it's game.
The Screaming Staircase is a rather long novel, but I did not feel that way. I quickly engaged with Lucy, a feisty, self-assured young girl, though often others fail to see her value. Lockwood and George are an entertaining double act, one being always eager to jump into danger whilst the other would prefer to spend hours researching before approaching any new case.
The ghostly element of the novel is suspenseful and memorable. The fear creeps up on you, so that the early pages lure you into a false sense of security and by the end you are unable to stop reading. Jonathan Stroud is a measured guide through the story, taking you on highs and lows of drama and horror. The combination of mystery and thriller was more than enough to keep me completely enthralled into the early hours of the morning.
1602
Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert & Richard Isanove
Marvel, 2011
I have been looking forward to reading this for months, so when I found myself with a quiet weekend, I indulged in a bit of Marvel gone historic.
It's 1602 and Queen Elizabeth is close to death. In her court, Doctor Stephen Strange and Sir Nicholas Fury conspire with the Queen to protect her, concerned that her death might bring forth the rule of King James, who has no love for magical arts. Witch-like activitiesn will be supressed and a reign of Catholicism will rule over England.
This gripping Gothic graphic takes all our favourite Marvel heroes back in time. From the X-Men to Fantastic Four to Captain America, they are all hidden under historical guises, unaware that they are about four hundred years too early. Something unexplained has disturbed the chronology of history, and somehow these characters have langed in Elizabethan England, unaware that they are destined for another time.
It is incredible how easily the Marvel characters slip into the seventeenth century - you might think that there would be profound differences in their situation, but actually it turned out to be rather easy to surplant them in another time. As in the twenty-first century, they are at risk of prosecution for their abilities, forced into hiding and always in conflict. Scientific explanations for their powers are replaced by magical and supersticious explanations, but the core 'otherness' remains.
There are many layers to this story, but the brilliant and detailed illustrations keep you abreast of the flow, and so it is able to jump around from each characters' storyline until they all come together to overcome the darkness that hangs over the world. For some of the characters, it is clear who their modern alter-ego is, but some are more subtle, revealing themselves to you as you read on and learn more.
I found myself completely engrossed in this story. If anyone has any doubts over the educational potential of graphic novels, surely this overcomes any argument against, as it teaches seventeenth century history through the medium of the superhero story.
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.
The Snow Child
Eowyn Ivey
London, Headline, 2012, 423p
I love rewritten fairy tales - contemporary writers drawing on years of oral story-telling and folklore to create a modern morality tale, often loaded with ghostly happenings and psychological horror.
The Snow Child is just that. Eowyn Ivey has taken an old Russian fairy story about an elderly couple who cannot have children of their own, but are blessed when a snowchild they make one winter evening turns into a real little girl.
In this modern re-imagining, we find ourselves in Alaska in the 1920s, where Jack and Mabel have opted to start a new life. They have bought a farm far away from their home and loved ones, and are working hard to get it established. But they are cursed with cold winters, and while Jack slaves away on the rough, unyielding land, Mabel is left alone at home. The nights are long and dark, and Mabel is haunted by the loss of her child ten years earlier.
Then one day, in heavy snow, Jack and Mabel are reunited in making a snowman, which they mould and dress to look like a beautiful little girl. The next morning, the mitten and scarf are gone, and Jack sees a little figure running through the trees. Slowly, the young girl in the woods comes to trust Jack and Mabel, and they take her into their lives. But every summer, she returns to the forest, and they must wait and hope that she will return.
The concept makes for a beautifully tragic tale, but I found myself frustrated whilst reading it - for many reasons. Firstly, I was annoyed at Jack and Mabel's inability to communicate. At the beginning of the story, the death of their child has created a chasm between the couple, which is bridged by the arrival of the snow girl. And yet, her presence does not completely simplify things - as they are the only people who have seen her, their friends worry about their mental states, believing cabin fever is making them see strange things.
Secondly, I found the plot to be somewhat predictable. In part, this was because I already had a vague idea of the original fairy tale of the snow child. But also, I think Ivey did not fully explore the idea of the snow child as a ghost or hallucination. As such, the Gothic tropes in the novel were lacking - the novel was not the psychological thriller I had wished it would be.
And finally, I thought this novel was probably about 200 pages too long. I read fervently, hoping for twists and turns, but little happened. This allowed for some beautiful descriptive passages - the setting becomes a character in itself and was probably the most Gothic element of the story. Towards the end of the novel, as the snow child grows up, her own story starts to take hold and there is more pace, but this did not make up for the earlier lack of plot development.
Essentially, I think I had overestimated the novel, thinking it would have been a Gothic rewriting when really it was just a beautifully written and more developed fairy tale. I really like the idea behind it, but even when the idea of the snow child as a ghost was introduced, it was not performed particularly well. I was gripped, but merely in the hope that it was going to get better.
Hollow Pike
James Dawson
London, Orion, 2012, 320p
Last week, I had the pleasure of escaping to rural Somerset to attend a creative writing residential with the next generation of writers, through the charity First Story. Words cannot describe how incredible the week was.
I also had the pleasure of meeting a group of very talented and entertaining authors and poets, including Mr James Dawson, author of supernatural YA novel, Hollow Pike. This is a novel about friendship, romance and witches.
When Lis London starts a new school, she finds herself drawn to a group of strange, mysterious students, despite attention from Laura, one of the popular girls. When Laura's body is found in the copse, Lis is wracked with guilt and confusion as she was the last person to see her alive. The copse is haunted by supernatural legends about witches and murder, and Lis struggles to distinguish between reality and mythology.
Drawing on classic and cult favourites (The Crucible and Heathers in particular), it is simultaneously a modern rewriting of the Pendle Witch Trials and a novel about the difficulties of being a teenager in contemporary society. James Dawson truly knows his scary stories, drawing on all the traditional conventions of Gothic fiction, and adding a few creepers of his own.
This novel was terrifyingly gripping. So many contemporary witch stories are over-written tales about teen angst, but this novel is a true credit to young adult fiction. This book isn't about witches so much as about superstition against those who are different. Today, it is so difficult to write a good scary story, as technology rationalises our oldest fears of the unknown. But Hollow Pike haunted me into my dreams, and kept me enticed, always wanting to know what was coming next.
I think the doubling in the story is what makes this novel so brilliant. It is not just a novel about growing up, and it is not just a novel about witches. Dawson grounds the Gothic elements of the supernatural story in elements of reality, hence making it terrifyingly real. Lis is a normal teenager, but the story she inhabits is anything but. Although the modern reader struggles to imagine witches flying on broomsticks, they can definitely relate to the feelings of otherness experienced whilst growing up.
And now, I must go and rewatch Heathers.
The Night Circus
Erin Morgenstern
London, Harvill Secker, 2011, 387p
I was so engrossed in this world that I didn't want the novel to end. I felt like I was part of something brilliant and magical. The circus haunted me through my days; I could not escape the desire to pick it up and continue on it's journey.
The Night Circus is a celebration of magic, friendship and love. Marco and Celia are bound together by a competition between two old friends. Both are powerful young illusionists, and neither are sure of the rules of the game, but one must be declared the victor. Against the wishes of their masters, they fall in love, and must find a way to escape the world that they have created.
It is the intricate details that I love most about this story - the settings, the supporting cast, the magic. Despite being a subject of fantasy and dreams, the Night Circus seems so real, coming to life like one of the characters. It travels, it creates, and it breathes. With the use of the second person narrative, you can picture yourself there, amongst the black and white tents, following the pathways through this strange and invigorating environment. Even the physical book is designed to reflect the symbolism within the story - a heavy hardback with black edges and a red ribbon to mark your page.
It would have been so easy for Morgenstern to let the love story guide the journey of this story, but I found the lives of the other characters to be far more fascinating and significant. Of course, Marco and Celia are vibrant, passionate characters (Celia, in particular, I adore - she is no damsel in distress, but a brave, noble young woman), but the story is carried by others. There is Bailey, a young boy outside the circus, who is captivated when he sees it appear one morning across the field. Poppet and Widget are twins, born on the opening night, who grow up within the maze of tents, seeing and hearing everything - past, present and future. And Friedrick Thiessen, a German clock maker who follows the circus wherever it goes: watching, admiring, recording it's every detail.
At it's core, this is a story about stories. Many of the characters are avid readers, hoarding books like gold dust. Many are also story-tellers, from Thiessen's writing about the circus, to Widget's ability to tell stories aloud. It is said, towards the end of the novel, that story-telling is a sort of magic:
"It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict."
The Amber Spyglass
Philip Pullman
London, Scholastic, 2000, 548p
This is the final novel in the His Dark Materials trilogy. It has taken me longer to read than the previous two for a number of reasons, but not least because it is the most complex and philosophical of the series.
The Amber Spyglass is the climax of a conflict that have been building throughout the trilogy. We rejoin Will, seeking to be reunited with Lyra after their separation at the end of The Subtle Knife. Together, they are a great power, a team built on friendship and understanding. Together, they are confident they can do what they have to do, even if they are not yet sure what that is.
As readers, the journey we go on with Will and Lyra is dangerous and fascinating. We explore unimaginable worlds, where strange creatures roam and dark forces overwhelm good. We see the world of the dead, where the ghosts of many species wait in misery for who knows what. Lyra and Will bring light to these worlds, striving to do good. For the ghosts, they open up a window to allow them to escape out to nature, becoming one with the world:
"All the atoms that were them, they've gone into the air and the wind and the trees and the earth and all the living things. They'll never vanish. They're just part of everything."
Suddenly, for the characters and the reader, death seems less scary, more hopeful. This is the sort of hope that I can relate to.
Pullman has been challenged by some religious groups for the atheist themes in his novel. As a piece of teenage fiction, some of the subjects explored are difficult for young people to understand - even I struggled in places. He is an intellect and proud of it, littering his pages with references to literary greats, from John Milton to William Blake (causing me to dig out my old Blake anthology - what beautiful poetry!). But beneath his anger against organised religion, Pullman creates a beautiful world, where hope and humanity are victorious over greed and power.
The Firework Maker's Daughter
Philip Pullman
London, Corgo, 1995, 101p
This story is a delightful little short read, set in far away China. It feels like a folk tale, full of goddesses and demons, magic and morality. The illustrations by Nick Harris frame the story, with pictures of the characters and events (though surprisingly few pictures of fireworks).
Lila is The Firework Maker's Daughter - she must climb Mount Merapi and face the Fire-Fiend in order to complete her training. It is a dangerous mission, and Lila is not fully prepared, so her friends must come to her aid.
Again, Pullman uses the trope of the child hero. Lila's journey is a dangerous one, but she is a brave and determined girl. Like Lyra, her innocence is a blessing, as she is unaware of the potential risks her journey entails. The friends who help her are a White Elephant, Hamlet, and his young carer, Chulak. Hamlet is owned by the King, and Lila's father helps them escape in order to help Lila. They are a unconventional team, but I would definitely want them to help me.
Whereas many of Pullman's teenage novels are complex and heavy, this is a lovely short read that could be shared and enjoyed by all the family. It has more recently been adapted for the stage, and I imagine it is a delight to see, with fireworks and demons and a giant elephant - the sort of story that translates brilliant into a visual extravaganza.
The Subtle Knife
Philip Pullman
London, Scholastic, 2005, 325p
I love the introduction of Will Parry to Lyra's life. As the great, brave heroine, I did not think it possible to create a character who could equal her inner beauty and outer courage, but Will matches her on all counts, and provides just the sort of support and friendship to move her journey onwards.
The Subtle Knife is the second of the His Dark Material series, following on from Northern Lights. We begin in our world, in Winchester, where we meet Will. He is running away from men who want to hurt him, when he stumbles across a window into another world. He steps into a hot, deserted city, where he meets Lyra. Although they have never met, their lives are intertwined, and their destiny binds them together.
I enjoyed exploring our Oxford through Will's eyes, especially in contrast to Lyra's Oxford. I can picture the streets and buildings as he describes them. It is particularly wonderful when Will brings Lyra into our world, and she compares our Oxford to the one she knows. Her shock and unease is paralleled by her awe. Pullman picks out tiny details, like double yellow lines and traffic lights, that seem so normal to use, and makes them seem unusual through Lyra's eyes. When Lyra stumbles across the Pitt Rivers Museum (my favourite place in the city), her delight and confusion remind me of how I felt when I first discovered it.
Pullman's use of children as the protagonists is brilliant. Not only does it mean that the danger seems to be heightened, as they are surrounded by adults who wish to bring them harm, but their innocent curiosity helps lead the book on it's journey. Will has the same naive bravery that leads Lyra into trouble in Northern Lights; so when Will finds the window into another world, it is inevitable that he will step through.
This is a beautifully written book, full of increasingly complex concepts, especially relating to religion. Again, the line between good and evil is blurred, so you can never be sure of the characters' motivations. The plot builds up towards a great battle against Authority, a God-like figure. As an adult, some of the ideas in this novel are difficult for me to comprehend - can this novel really be categorised as young adult fiction?
Northern Lights
Philip Pullman
London, Scholastic, 2011, 397p
When new worlds are brought to life in fiction, there are often parallels with the world we know and live in. There are characteristics or places that seem familiar, and thoughts and ideas that are universally acknowledged. This is a technique for creating a world that the reader can understand and imagine; and a technique Pullman has used to perfection.
Northern Lights is set in the most majestic of alternative universes, like some great fantasy from within the mind of a child. The story begins at Jordan College in Oxford, where we meet a young girl with an appetite for adventure. Suddenly, all across Brytain (yes, intended typo), children are disappearing, and Lyra finds herself traveling North on a dangerous adventure.
It is not the plot of this novel I love so much as the details within in. With regards to Lyra's journey, it takes her North, into the dark recesses of snow and ice, where characters have Nordic names like Iorek Byrnison (oh, how I love Scandinavia!). Lyra is surprisingly brave for a twelve year old, facing up against witches and armoured bears, lying to scientists, and plotting an elaborate escape plan from an experimental laboratory. She is kidnapped and captured countless times, but has a smart head on her shoulders and a childish optimism that keeps her calm. And somehow, along the journey, she becomes braver and stronger, learning more about herself and the complexity of the world around her.
But the details are what I adore - those little elements that are grounded in our reality and seem so within reach. Things like dæmons, human souls in animal form that guide and support the human characters - I will leave you to learn more. Things like the pages of clippings in the back of the novel, an appendix with materials designed to confirm the reality of this fantasy. And, of course, the alethiometer, a compass-like devise used to uncover truths. These details feel so real, so that as you read, you imagine what form your dæmon might take.
The adventure story is somewhat complicated, full of twists and turns and plenty of danger. Lyra is an intelligent hero, but it is never clear to her or the reader who is good and who is evil - much like real life, the characters are complex, with secret motives and uncertain fates. I think this is the thing I like most about the novel.
Reading this as an adult, Northern Lights has had a profound effect upon me. I remember reading it as a child, but I did not remember what happened. I think this is partly due to the complexity of the language and themes tackled here - Pullman does not patronise the teenage reader, but challenges them to think about morality, philosophy and original sin. There are so many levels to this novel that it's vast fan base has created a wiki to try to unravel meaning and truth. It is this complexity that I feel will stay with me; so on to the next one!
Begging Letter
Judy Waite
London, A&C Black, 2011, 80p
My most recent reads have been somewhat heavy and long, so I was looking for something shorter when a student returned Begging Letter.
It is a short story about a girl who writes a letter to the Universe wishing a boy at school would notice her and ask her out. Connie hopes Josh will break up with Megan for her, but instantly regrets her wish when it comes true, and Josh makes a move.
This book is a really easy read - simple language and simple plot combine, but with a high enough interest level to tempt those teenage readers with low literacy abilities. It does not patronise, but tells a fun, girly story. This Wired Up series offer a range of books with basic language but entertaining stories, which appeal to reluctant and low-ability readers alike.
In Darkness
Nick Lake
London, Bloomsbury, 2012, 333p
My Carnegie journey has come to an end with this brilliant story of tragedy and death. It has been a brilliant experience, but I am so glad I am not responsible for choosing a winner.
Simultaneously telling the story of a young boy trapped under the the rubble of the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, and the battle for liberation of the Haitian slaves under Toussaint L'Ouverture in the 18th century, In Darkness is a heart-breaking novel. I knew very little about the history of Haiti before reading this story, but now desire to know more. The story is about struggle against oppression, the fight for freedom and the desperation caused by imprisonment, both for black slaves under French rule, and young gangsters in the slums of Port-au-Prince.
Also, perhaps because I just read it, I saw some parallels between this story and Midwinterblood. Both authors explore the possibility of souls being able to survive throughout time, living through different bodies, seeing the world through different eyes. In Lake's story, both Toussaint and Shorty share the same soul, and in their dreams, they see the lives of others who have lived before and will live after them.
The story of the slave uprising is incredible, though Nick Lake admits he may have sugar-coated some of the events. Toussaint is an inspiring leader, preferring to maintain the land and spare the lives of the masters where possible. He doesn't want revenge, he just wants freedom; but death is a price that sometimes must be paid.
The young modern protagonist is an endearing character - misunderstood, scared, and desperately missing his twin sister, he joins the Route 9 gang in order to get revenge on the men who killed his father. He helps deal drugs and punish those who don't pay up. He admits he felt that rush when killing people, but you understand why - he has no money, no family, and little hope of escape from the slum. His best hope is to find a place within the street gangs. They respect him, and fear him; they believe he is blessed by the gods.
Vodou is a significant theme in this novel - both stories massively revolve around the belief in symbols, idols and magic. Men follow Toussaint because they believe he is possessed by the spirit of the lwa (deity) of war, and the gangstas trust Shorty because he is a twin and carries a pwen, a small stone containing the spirit of the lwa.
This novel is dark both metaphorically and literally, and the theme of imprisonment is recurrent. Trapped under the rubble after the Haitian earthquake, most of the story is told by a young boy trying to stay sane. He is imprisoned in his underground cave, like Toussaint is imprisoned by the laws of slavery and the racist assumptions of the white. The parallels between the lives of the two character, living over two hundred years apart, are full of darkness, sadness, and death. And yet, it is incredible how you forgive them both their wrong-doings, as you hear the story from their perspectives. Nick Lake makes you think about heroicism - he makes you question yourself and what you would do if you were them. Unfortunately, I fear many of us could never be so brave.
In the Trees
Pauline Fisk
London, Faber & Faber, 2010, 337p
It's less than a week until World Book Day and therefore less than a week until Pauline Fisk comes to visit my school. I've been saving this book for a while, as Pauline spoke so enthusiastically about it; and I have to agree it is wonderful.
In the Trees is about a young boy's search for somewhere to call home. Kid grew up in South London, his mother passed away when he was young, and he does not know anything about his father except he is from Belize. Dropping out of school, Kid flies to Belize to search for his father, following strange trails through the rain forest in his quest. He encounters dangerous people, supernatural myths, and makes amazing friends.
Poverty is a theme that pervades throughout the novel - both in terms of financial poverty and emotional poverty. Kid is the sort of young man who has slipped through the social services net, and is outside the attention of those institutions that should be there to help him. He feels that growing up in South London has prepared him well for the threats that await him in South America; but he finds the culture is so different, and he discovers a poverty like nothing he has experienced.
And yet the people he meets are full of love and hope. There is change in the air, as a new government is elected, full of promise. People only use what they need, and only have very little. But they appreciate it.
When Kid starts out, he seems to be completely lost. He doesn't have a home in South London; he has no family and few friends. He is half Belizean, but still feels slightly put of place when he travels there. He wants to learn about his heritage and his father, in the hope he will better understand himself and where he belongs.
The novel is very enlightening. Fisk's descriptions of the rain forest are vivid and beautiful, taking you right into the jungle with the young characters. It makes me want to go out there. The story is long but gripping, full of twist and turns and new adventures. Kid is a brilliant character, and particularly appealing for those with little sense of self. He grows and develops, becoming self-aware enough to recognise that, even as the novel ends, his journey is not yet complete.
The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making
Catherynne M Valente
London, Constable & Robinson, 2012, 328p
How is any lover of literature meant to be able to resist a book with a title like this? It has the word "circumnavigated" in it!!!
This is the tale of September, a young girl who escapes the boredom of her lonely house, and is carried off by the Green Wind on the back of a Leopard. The Green Wind helps her through customs into Fairyland, but cannot escort her through the mysterious world. Instead, he tells her the rules of this strange land, and leaves her to make her own friends and adventures.
The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making is not a light-hearted romp of a fantasy. It takes inspiration from a plethora of resources - fairy tales, classic literature, modern culture - and brings them all together to make one of the most surreal worlds I have ever had the joy to explore. If it had been written badly, this could have been one of the most cliched novels in literary history; but Valente has such passion and knowledge that she creates a world that few others could have even dreamed of.
My favourite character is a sort-of dragon, a Wyvern, called A-Through-L. His father is a Library, and he has an encyclopedic knowledge of anything beginning with letters A to L. September finds many friends along her journey, and is loyal and loving towards them all. Although she is only twelve years old, she is wise and generous, and incredibly brave.
I say the book is not light-hearted because it is very dark in places. September suffers, separated from her friends, attacked by strange creatures. At one point she even turns into a tree. Life in Fairyland is far from easy, under the difficult rule of the Marquess.
With any fantasy literature, the reader must suspend their disbelief, at least to some extent. In reading this brilliant novel, it is a pleasure to step into September's world, and sometimes it is a struggle to come back to reality. Everything in Fairyland is so unusual and wonderful, and created with such love, that it comes to life in a way no other fantasy world ever has.
