Man in the Moon by Dotti Enderle. Reviewed by Paeony Lewis

I'm often wary of reviewing books written by friends. For me the book has to be particularly accomplished because otherwise I’m plagued with misgivings. I worry that I'm wearing rose-tinted spectacles. Am I overlooking faults because I know the angst and sweat that went into the book? Or is it the opposite? Can I be too critical?

So this is the first time on the Awfully Big Reviews Blog that I’ve reviewed a book written by a friend. It’s a favourite and deserves to be known in the UK. Man in the Moon by Dotti Enderle is what the Americans term a ‘mid grade’ (ages 8-12), although in this case it’s more suitable for confident readers aged ten and over (and adults too).

The cover illustration of Man in the Moon may hint at cool evening breezes, but the pages ooze with the dusty heat of a relentless Texan summer. Set in 1961, this short, chatty and poetic story is told from Janine's point of view and you can hear her drawl. She’s a young girl trapped in a life of rural poverty on an isolated Texan farmstead. Janine makes the most of her small world and is not unloved, but an unemployed father, an anxious mother and seriously sick brother stifle her hopes for a better future.

When it seems as though all life has been sucked dry by the heat, illness and poverty, a shabby man appears. The mysterious Mr Lunas intrudes on family life and is a catalyst for change. Like the moon, Mr Lunas waxes and wanes, until a new moon brings new hope. Is it magic? A miracle? Or a series of coincidences? Readers are allowed to form their own conclusions

This is a novel told to us by a child who has a rich and naïve awareness of words. However, all she knows is what she experiences in her tiny corner of Texas or sees on TV. Thus sometimes the reader must read between the lines.

I can’t make up my mind what appeals most to me about this story. Is it the whisper of quiet magic that runs through the tale? Or is it the evocative reality of a rural Texas childhood from the 1960s? It’s a life the author knows intimately. A while back, when telling me about her childhood and games, Dotti wrote:

"I did live on a farm for about a year when I was eight. That's the farm I had in mind when I wrote the book. And we even had that old abandoned flatbed truck piled with junk nearby. We found an ancient wooden leg (complete with leather foot), but unlike Janine, my mother let us bring it into the yard, and we played with it for months. We named it Charlie."

Man in the Moon has won awards within the state of Texas and deserves wider readership. And I’m not saying that because the author is a friend. Honest!

And here’s a short excerpt from the very start of the novel:

Phase One – New Moon

I sat in the shadows of my bedroom, staring through the window screen. Except for an occasional lightning bug twinkling by, the night was black as molasses, and the air as thick. I prayed for just one breeze to blow through and cool the sweat on my face. But everything was still – dead still – like right before a storm.

… That’s when something moved in the cornfield. I heard it, just on the other side of the chicken coop…

Man in the Moon by Dotti Enderle
Originally published by Delacorte Press in the US, 2008. Also available on Kindle.

Reviewed by Paeony Lewis

www.paeonylewis.com

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THE AMULET OF SAMARKAND by Jonathan Stroud, reviewed by Paeony Lewis

When The Amulet of Samarkand was first published there was a huge marketing splash which made me reluctant to read the book (perverse!). Plus I’d heard it contained a genie and magic, and that made me yawn. Then a personal recommendation encouraged me to put my prejudice aside and give Jonathan Stroud’s book a go.

Back then my children were at primary school. I read to them every night and this took thirty to sixty minutes, so the book had to be enjoyable (for all our sanities). And phew, there was lots of laughter and pleading for a few more pages. Yes, we all adored The Amulet of Samarkand.

I’ll admit that in retrospect I wonder how much my positive perception of this book was coloured by my children’s enthusiasm. I think adults are influenced by their children, and we often join them in their pleasures.

So, without the influence of children, would I still enjoy The Amulet of Samarkand? I suspect I would. Therefore I recommend this book to all ages, including older primary, teen, and adults who aren't embarrassed to be seen reading children's books.

The story is set in a parallel contemporary London, where magic rules and is corrupt. Magicians gain their power from enslaved djinnis (what the more common of us might call genies). The protagonist, Nathanial, is a young magician’s apprentice. That may sound familiar, but this boy is a refreshingly flawed young man who still has plenty of character defects by the end of the book. The magic is corrupt and so are the characters.

In the adventure, the humiliated and vengeful Nathanial commands the djinni, Bartimaeus, to steal the powerful Amulet of Samarkand from another magician. The tale is filled with wicked humour and suspense, and although the general plot might be considered rather well worn, the glorious characterisation of Bartimaeus overshadows any doubts.

Bartimaeus is an ancient, powerful djinni. You can’t fail to adore this arrogant, lovable, sarcastic, witty anti-hero. There are footnotes in the story, written by Bartimaeus, and to give you a feel for the humour, I’ve reproduced a couple of his observations (don't worry, unlike the footnotes, the main story is written in the past tense):

Footnote 5: They were all at it – beetling off in coach parties (or, since many of them were well-heeled, hiring jets) to tour the great magical cities of the past. All cooing and ahhing at the famous sights – the temples, the birthplaces of notable magicians, the places where they came to horrible ends. And all ready to whip bits of statuary or ransack the black-market bazaars in the hope of getting knock-me-down sorcerous bargains. It’s not the cultural vandalism I object to. It’s just so hopelessly vulgar.

 Footnote 6: I’m no great looker myself, but Faquarl had too many tentacles for my liking.

The Amulet of Samarkand was originally published in 2003, and was the first in the Bartimaeus trilogy. These three books have recently been reissued and in October 2010 a fourth book was published (so now it’s classified as a Bartimaeus 'sequence').

My teen son says the new volume, The Ring of Solomon, is excellent. I think I’m going to read it too. And I'll be reading it on my own, without children...


The Bartimaeus Sequence
Volume 1: The Amulet of Samarkand
by Jonathan Stroud 
is published by Random House (Corgi Children's Books)

Reviewed by Paeony Lewis
www.paeonylewis.com

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The Whales’ Song and The Princess and the Pea, reviewed by Paeony Lewis

Here are two very different picture books. Or are they? Both are picture books aimed at five years and older. Both contain glorious illustrations. Both utilise photography. Both tell an enchanting story. Both should appeal to girls with imagination. Both are books I yearn to read aloud to children (will somebody lend me a child until mine sprout grandchildren?).

The Whales’ Song by Dyan Sheldon, illustrated by Gary Blythe

When I ventured into my 17-year-old daughter’s room and asked her if she remembered this picture book, my daughter smiled wistfully. It’s a favourite children’s book she’ll never forget. So what makes The Whales’ Song a haunting classic?

It’s a poignant tale about a young girl, Lilly, who is enthralled by her grandmother’s tales of whales. Patiently, Lilly waits by the ocean to hear her own whale song. The ending is likely to be too subtle for children under five. It’s mysterious and evokes quiet wonder in an older, thoughtful child.

The award-winning illustrations are softly stunning. The paintings have a realistic, faraway quality that appears to be inspired by photographic images. Unforgettable.

The Princess and the Pea by Lauren Child, photographed by Polly Borland

The cover of this pink picture book didn’t grab me. However, after a recommendation from a bookseller I took a peek inside and was beguiled. This modern retelling of The Princess and the Pea doesn’t try hard to be politically correct. Hey, romance is OK and we discover the key to true royalty is good manners.

For me, it’s the theatrical illustrations that captivate. Paper cut-outs of the royal characters have been photographed within a real miniature world. Twigs become forests. The shadow-filled castle is filled with adorable doll’s house furniture. I want to play with it!

The photographs are complemented by a quirky story narrated with charming contemporary humour. The ever-changing fonts may irritate, but most readers will still be enchanted: “One day when the prince was old enough, his parents decided it was time for him to be married. You know what parents are like and a prince’s parents are no different…”

Published fifteen years apart, both picture books are still available and I hope they remain in print for many years to come.

Reviewed by Paeony Lewis website: http://www.paeonylewis.com/

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Three Picture Books That Inspired A Writer

Reviews by Paeony Lewis


When my children were tiny I discovered the world of picture books. What a glorious world, although sometimes I felt like sobbing when a story had to be read for the two hundred and seventeenth time. However, three classic books that never made me sob are all by Martin Waddell, and they are still in print.

Not only did these books not make me sob at the two hundred and seventeenth reading, they were also influential in inspiring me to write my own picture books. Although I adored quirky picture books (and still do), I also hankered for more traditional stories that affirmed my love for our very young children. I wanted to reassure them that the world could be a good place. In the nineties, Martin Waddell’s books fulfilled this emotional need and became a potent catalyst for my future writing. I too wanted to write picture books that would speak to others.

To celebrate this, here are short reviews of these three wonderful, influential books: Owl Babies, Farmer Duck and The Big Big Sea.

OWL BABIES
by Martin Waddell, illustrated by Patrick Benson

Very young children worry when a parent leaves them with somebody else. Will the parent return? Of course! But it’s natural to need reassurance. Owl Babies does this. With simple and spare text, lyrical writing and repetition, the story is a joy to read aloud. The three baby owls are all characters we recognise and they mirror the worries of children without being condescending.

The illustrations in Owl Babies are by Patrick Benson. Unusually for a picture book, there isn’t much variety. However, it’s not necessary. We’re drawn in by the intimate illustrations of the owls with their huge eyes and the way they patiently wait for their mother in the dark, atmospheric forest. Don’t worry, there’s only a tiny hint of the scary night. The use of bark patterns relieves the darkness and the child will only remember the loving warmth of the story.

I challenge parents not to get a lump in their throat when they read the last line of Owl Babies (or maybe I’m just soppy!).

FARMER DUCK by Martin Waddell, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury

Think Orwell’s Animal Farm, then rewrite and truncate it for children, and give the story an ending full of hope. That’s Farmer Duck! The oppressed, hard-working duck only ever says one word, “Quack!” Oh, so much is said with that one quack, and children adore shouting “Quack!”

Helen Oxenbury’s delightful watercolours soften what could be a harsh tale and the different expressions on the faces of the animals and the lazy farmer help tell the story. The ending of Farmer Duck is left open and it’s an opportunity for the adult and child to discuss the fairness of the animals taking over the farm and how everybody needs to do their bit. Mind you, I never had one of those discussions with my children and perhaps that’s why they’re so messy?

THE BIG BIG SEA by Martin Waddell, illustrated by Jennifer Eachus

I wonder if this is one of those books that appeals most strongly to the parent? It epitomises the ‘special moments’ we want to share and remember; forever. Quite simply, in very few words, it’s the tale of a mother sharing a night-time walk with her daughter on a moonlit beach. It’s a reminder to parents that quiet, together times can mean so much. The softly-focussed, realistic illustrations by Jennifer Eachus perfectly complement the poetry of the text.

So there you go. Three picture books that pack an emotional punch so strong that they inspired me to write. There are other books, but that’s enough of my secrets! Does anyone else want to share their secret influences?

Owl Babies, Farmer Duck, and The Big Big Sea are all published by Walker Books and new editions are available from libraries and bookshops.
Reviewed by Paeony Lewis http://www.paeonylewis.com

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