The Water's Daughter, by Michelle Lovric: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

Michelle Lovric writes fiction for adults and children: a common theme of all her novels is a Venetian setting, and it's very clear from a reading of any of her books that she knows Venice very well, and loves it very much - I think it could certainly be argued that Venice is absolutely at the heart of her writing. She also writes non-fiction; most recently she collaborated with Gemma Dowler on a book about her mudered sister, Millie Dowling, which topped the Amazon and Times bestseller charts. She's also compiled numerous anthologies.

(Image taken from Michelle Lovic's website.)

This book, which is for children, follows on from several others set in the past, and in a parallel Venice . Geographically it's remarkably similar to the city we know today, but it also features a whole troupe of magical creatures. I was particularly delighted to meet the mermaids again: charming, beautiful, but very down-to-earth (!) creatures who live underneath the city and are distinctly foul-mouthed, owing to the fact that they learned their language from pirates. But new to this book is a whole palazzo full of magical creatures who have been transported (by mistake) from Arabia - including a beautiful and utterly amoral djinniya, who has great powers - which, fortunately for Venice, she is not very competent at handling. 

Its human heroine is 12 year old Aurelia Bon, the child of appalling parents who at the beginning of the book are planning to force her to marry the unpleasant son of an unpleasant family; her only other option is to be immured in a nunnery. Aurelia is not the kind of girl to put up with this sort of treatment - she has an extraordinary gift (when she touches a building, her fingers sense its history) and with this, and with a naturally strong personality, comes a firm sense of her own importance. She runs away, and encounters all sorts of dangers but also all manner of wonders. 

She has to battle against all sorts of enemies: a jealous historian who envies her ability to pull the crowds, and has designs on her magical fingers; her ghastly suitor and his family; the very creepy priest in charge of the nunnery; a bunch of pirates (who have lots of saving graces); a group of venal politicians/businessmen whose aim is to such Venice dry of her wealth; and the djinniya. The tussle between the latter and Aurelia is positively epic: they're both powerful, both very selfish, and both actually rather likeable - more so as the book goes on and they have to face up to some uncomfortable truths about themselves.

The book is a glorious flight of imagination, with excitement, humour and glamour in shed loads. I would put it at the upper end of middle-grade - particularly near the beginning, there are some quite scary bits, which might be a bit challenging for younger children - but for the right reader, it offers a gorgeously rich reading experience. And there are the other Venetian children's novels to move on to - it's not essential to read them in sequence. So much to enjoy!

Sue Purkiss's latest book is Jack Fortune and the Search for the Hidden Valley.

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The Time of Green Magic, by Hilary Mackay: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

This is an enchanting book. We get the flavour of it right away, with a girl called Abi engrossed in a book about the Kon-Tiki expedition (when Thor Heyerdahl decided to see if it was possible to cross the Atlantic on a raft). Hilary Mackay sketches in Abi's background in just a few sentences, telling us that 'Reading was Abi's escape...' that she read while her father, Theo, met and married Polly, who brought with her two new stepbrothers, and her beloved Granny Grace went back home to Jamaica. And here she is now, so absorbed in this tale of the sea that - wait a minute! How come she can taste salt on her fingers? And how come a green parrot had been in the room - quite certainly, as even Louis, her younest stepbrother, has caught a glimpse of it?

It's all something to do with the house which the newly blended family is renting. The house is covered - absolutely covered - with green ivy, and the magic seems to emanate from this. At first it seems to be just Abi who's aware of it, when the books she reads come alive - but then Louis encounters a creature which at first he things is a 'nowl', but which turns out to be something much more dangerous, from which Louis somehow has to be saved.

So it is a book about magic, which happens very naturally and convincingly. (There's no explanation as to where the magic comes from, but somehow that doesn't seem to matter.) But it's also about the usual things that matter very much - relationships, growing up, loss. Abi resents the new additions to her family, and she misses Granny Grace very much. But this is not a story where people are horrible; in fact, they're all pretty delightful. Theo, a nurse in an emergency department, is kind and funny and a good cook. Polly, who works for a charity and has to go abroad for work, is also lovely. Louis is sweet and funny. Max has a hard time when he falls out with his best friend, Danny, and then falls for the French art student who picks Louis up from school. When the crisis comes, thay all play their part, and they're much more of a family at the end of it.

It's just lovely. A perfect book to curl up with and escape the increasingly bonkers world outside, whether you're a child or a grandma: gentle - and none the worse for that: funny, enchanting, and beautifully written.

(For more writing about books from Sue Purkiss, see her blog, A Fool on a Hill.)

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The Big Book of Birds, by Yuval Zommer: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

Our nearly-three year old grandson is very keen on birds, much to the delight of his bird-watching grandfather. They test each other on birdsongs, and correct each other on identification - "Oh no, Dad-dad. That's not a seagull - it's a pigeon."

And so when I saw this book flagged up on Twitter or somewhere, I immediately ordered it. It's a really beautiful book which contains a huge amount of information. When it first arrived a couple of months ago I thought it was a little bit old for Thomas, but I think by the time of his third birthday in a few weeks, he'll be able to get a good deal out of it - as will his grandfather.

It's satisfyingly large, with generous spreads going across a double page which contain masses of pictures of different birds and masses of interesting bits of information: did you know that a swan has up to 25000 feathers, whereas a humming bird has a mere 1000? Or (I know this on's going to be agreat favourite) that when a flamingo gets too hot, it wees on its own legs to cool itself down? Did you know that an albatross can drink sea water, getting rid of the salt through a small hole above its eye? There, you see - not only will your children/grandchildren enjoy it, but you'll never be short of interesting things to talk about at parties. (If you find yourself standing alone after a while, don't worry about it - just go out into the garden and listen out for birdsong. Much more fun.)

About half of the spreads - fifteen - are about individual species from all over the world. The others deal with topics such as migration, feathers, bird calls, birds in the city, and how to encourage birds into your garden. The illustrations - also by Yuval Zommer - are bright, humorous and accurate, and there's a challenge - a hidden egg on each page - to encourage the young reader to keep turning the page. It's the kind of book that has so much to look at that the reader will want to come back to it again and again. Lovely.

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The Storm Keeper's Island, by Catherine Doyle: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

I recently wrote on our sister blog, ABBA, about books I read as a child which had the power to create a wholly convincing world which was immensely attractive to the young reader I used to be. (See here.)Of course all good books do that up to a point, but there aren't that many which leave you with a slight sense of loss when you read the last page and find yourself on the outside once more.

I think that this book, The Storm Keeper's Island, has that quality. The hero, a boy called Fionn Boyle, is not particularly brave. I love this:

He didn't know how to be brave. Whenever he watched 'The Lord of the Rings', he imagined himself as a lone rider galloping away from a battle while all the other characters were marching into it. When everyone else was in Helm's Deep, he'd be back in the Shire, making a sandwich.

His mother is ill, with a deep sadness which is clearly connected with Fionn's father's death by drowning before Fionn was born. Fionn is afraid of the sea, which is unfortunate as he is travelling to an island, Arranmore, with his sister Tara, to stay with their grandfather. Oddly to the reader, Fionn has never been there before: there is clearly some mystery associated with the island, his father's death, and his mother's illness.

Fionn's relationship with his sister is very real. She's thirteen and he's eleven; until she turned thirteen, they were close, but now that's all changed as she's discovered lip gloss and boys, in particular one Bartley Beasley. Catherine Doyle is very good at dialogue - Fionn and Tara's exchanges are spiky and funny. Yet underneath the bickering, they are close, and in the end, Tara will need Fionn to save her. Because it turns out that this island is magical, and is in the care of the Storm Keeper, Fionn's grandfather: but the old man's power is dwindling (in a very human way that many of us will recognize), and Fionn, though he knows nothing of it at first, is to be his successor, with great power at his disposal - and a dark and ancient enemy lying in wait for him.

The book is beautifully written. The characters are very human and very real, as is the world they come from. And perhaps this is what makes the magic seem perfectly feasible: that and the fact that it is contained in the environs of this island off the coast of Ireland - which is a real place, and one the author knows well, and clearly loves. It's not often I can't put a book down, but I read this one late into the night until I'd finished it.

There is to be a sequel, and I've a feeling I've read somewhere that there will be more in the series to follow, which I think is excellent news.

My website is here.

My own blog, A Fool On A Hill, is here.

I also blog on the 16th of each month at The History Girls

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Mr Penguin and the Lost Treasure, by Alex T. Smith: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

I went into our local bookshop (Waterstones) the other day in search of books for my grandson, who is six, and enthusiastically learning to read by himself. He's at that crossover stage, where he still enjoys picture books, but is starting to need more text - while still needing the stimulation of interesting pictures.

The first three or four shelves had books from reading schemes. Many of them looked great - but I have no idea what books his school has (he lives in Brussels) so was wary of choosing any of these. Then there were lots and lots of little paperbacks, often series, which, to be honest, all looked quite similar. There were cute animals, witches, lots of pirates, little superheroes, and naughty little boys. Many of them are probably excellent stories, and who knows? They might have fitted the bill perfectly.

But somehow I felt I wanted something a little bit different. And then I spotted this one. Published by Hodder, it stood out because it's larger than the standard paperback size, because it's hard backed and satisfyingly chunky, and because of the limited, but striking, colour range of its illustrations, which are also by Alex T. Smith and are orange, black and white, with on the cover the addition of several shades of green. Before the story itself begins, there is the front page of a newspaper, The Cityville Times, with various entertaining stories and Mr Penguin's advertisement. Have a good look at this. (That was a clue.)

It's a detective story with (faint) echoes of Raymond Chandler. Mr Penguin is, indeed, a penguin. (One who can't swim and doesn't like the cold.) He has set up as a Professional Adventurer, and all he needs is for the phone to ring 'and for there to be a jolly exciting Adventure on the other end'. If this doesn't happen, he will quickly run out of money (why are private investigators always extremely short of cash?) and be obliged to pack his battered suitcase and hop on the first boat 'back to the Frozen South'.

Fortunately, the phone does ring. It's Boudicca Bones, the owner of the Museum of Extraordinary Objects. She tells him that she, too, is short of cash - but she happens to know that somewhere in the museum, an ancestor hid a stash of treasure, and she needs his help to find it. So, with his sidekick Colin - a bowler hatted spider with very little conversation but a nice line in karate kicks - off he goes, and a  riotous adventure ensues with a jolly good twist at the end.

It's funny and fast-moving and beautifully produced -  and I think my grandson will love it. Will report back!


Sue Purkiss's latest book is Jack Fortune and the Search for the Hidden Valley, which is about plant hunting in the Himalayas and also has an orange and green cover, as you can see. 



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Aubrey and the Terrible Yoot, by Horatio Clare: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

I've recently read and very much enjoyed a couple of adult books by Horatio Clare, Icebreaker and Orison for a Curlew; I suppose you would say he's a travel writer, or maybe a nature writer, or quite likely both those and other things as well. So I thought it would be interesting to see what he would do with a children's book - and the answer is, he does a great deal.

From birth, Aubrey is recognised as being a 'rambunctious' boy. By the time he's four, he's managed to get out of the house and into his parents' car without anyone noticing, and to let off the handbrake; so that the car drifts gently into beloved German car of his neighbour, Mr Ferraby. (Mr Ferraby is a delightful character. He follows Aubrey's progress with interest and astonishment, and I think it's typical of Clare's writing that Mr Ferraby does not shout and jump and down and hate Aubrey forever - rather, he says 'quietly. "No-one's hurt, that's the main thing."')

Aubrey's parents are Suzanne, a nurse, and Jim, a teacher. For several years, all goes well for the family. But then something horrible happens. Jim begins to worry about everything. All the colour has gone out of the world for him, and gradually he is spending most of his time under the duvet, unable to work, unable to be happy. The adult reader recognises this as depression. Aubrey doesn't know what it is, but he does know that he's going to find a way to help his dad.

If I explain how he does this, it will spoil the story for you, and it will sound very complicated - whereas when you're reading it, everything seems beautifully logical. In any event, what happens is that the creatures who live in the nearby wood help him to help his father, explaining that he is under attack from the Terrible Yoot, and Aubrey must battle it on his father's behalf.

Well, he does. But even that doesn't turn out entirely as you'd imagine.

This is a really lovely, very original book, which has at its centre something which must be very difficult for children to cope with - a deeply depressed parent. It explores what this feels like in a completely unpreachy sort of a way, using characters who are quirky, charming, funny - and just nice. At the same time it's an adventure, a quest, and it's firmly rooted in the natural world. It's beautifully illustrated by Jane Matthews, and beautifully written by Horatio Clare. I loved it.

Sue Purkiss's latest book is 'Jack Fortune and the Search for the Hidden Valley'.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR - with THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY. Review by Penny Dolan

Greetings and all good wishes for 2018!

Today's the day when Awfully Big Book Reviews re-opens for the year. I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone's chosen titles as the weeks go by. I really love the interests and enthusiasms among the team of Reviewers and that they will bring a greater diversity of titles than one person's reading list might offer.

Apologies, however, for the repeat of a review below,although I'm not saying sorry for the choice at all as a) the author is the other editor of the ABBA blog and b) the story is a bold, brave adventure mostly set somewhere warmer than here. 

Besides, the review, having been written a while back, will not be bringing you any of the coughs, sneezes, wheezes and bugs currently bothering me and my writing brain. The year, as they say, can only get better. (Achooooo!) Right, here we go . . .

Sometimes, as you start reading a new book, you forget that you know the writer personally, finding yourself instead in the grip of a wonderfully well-written story. Who is it by? you vaguely think. Who? . . . Oh! . . .Of course!  It’s So-and-so’s book! How nice! I’d forgotten that . . . What a pleasure!

Which is what happened as I read JACK FORTUNE AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY, a novel for 8-12 year olds, written by Sue Purkiss, co-editor of the Awfully Big Blog Adventure.

Inspired by the lives of 18th century plant-hunters, Sue has written a fast-moving historical adventure story.  Jack Fortune, the young hero, is energetic and interestingly naughty. Bored and with no school to attend, he can’t resist devising tricks - ones that made me laugh - mostly on his stern widowed Aunt Constance and her guests. He is immediately likeable and trouble!

Jack accidentally causes real damage, so Constance summons her scholarly bachelor brother, Uncle Edmund, as it is his turn to take responsibility for his nephew. Uncle Edmund refuses.

 Not only is he unused to children, but he is about to set off on his first plant-hunting trip to India. Jack, hearing this exciting news, wants to go along with Uncle Edmund and Aunt Constance, unable to take any more, agrees.

 Jack and his uncle  – and the reader – experience a new life full of challenge and interesting people and places. They sail to Calcutta, cross the great plain and travel through the jungle before reaching a high mountain kingdom with a hidden valley. All the way, Jack and his uncle face setbacks and dangers: vagabonds, wild animals,  “mountain sickness” and, at last, reports of a huge, legendary being who attacks intruders to the Hidden Valley. Moreover, an unknown traitor is spoiling the expedition party’s food supplies and causing problems with local villagers.  Who wishes them ill? Is it Sonam, their guide or Thondup, the heir to the throne, whom Jack has begun to admire?

Sue Purkiss’s plot moves along with plenty of pace and action and just enough description to fix the story in its historical time and place, and without overloading her young reader’s enjoyment. She also touches lightly and skilfully on darker issues such as servants and colonisation, but lets the bold adventure end as happily as it should.

However, I felt the book was about more than the plant-hunting quest: Jack and Uncle Edmund make a wonderfully odd and warm partnership, and the hardships met on the expedition teach them more about the other. Bookish Uncle Edmund slowly reveals his bravely determined nature and his passion for plant-hunting - especially for the blue flower that will restore the family fame and fortune. Meanwhile, faced with real demands and responsibilities rather than tea-parties and polite manners, Jack becomes the boy hero he was meant to be and is even able to accept his own inherited artistic gifts.

I liked JACK FORTUNE AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY very much because, despite the difficulties Jack and his Uncle face, the adventure is a positive and hopeful experience and one that might encourage children to look beyond everyday life and issues in school and out into a wider world.

Alma Books have also created some downloadable activities to support of this title:  http://almabooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/Jack-Fortune-Activity-Book.pdf

as well as an interview with the author Sue Purkiss: http://almabooks.com/interview-sue-purkiss-author-jack-fortune/                                                                          

Penny Dolan

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The Wizards of Once, by Cressida Cowell - reviewed by Sue Purkiss

This is the first of a new series by Cressida Cowell, author of the very popular 'How to Train your Dragon' series. That was rooted in the world of the Vikings; this is set in a magical long-ago time in

Britain, when woods covered the islands were truly wild.

There are two sets of beings: the Wizards, who are magical but well-intentioned, and the Warriors, who have no magic but do have iron, against which magic has no power. There was also a third set, the Witches. These had magic but were evil, and have been destroyed by the Warriors. Unfortunately, in their zeal to rid the world of the Witches and their evil, they have decided that every other magical creature must also be destroyed.

There are hints of Shakespeare's The Tempest - one of the characters is called Sycorax, for example. But there is also a nod to Romeo and Juliet: Xar, the son of the leader of the Wizards, the Enchanter, meets up with Wish, the daughter of the Queen of the Warriors, Sycorax. In a twist, Xar so far shows no signs of having magic, whereas it seems that Wish perhaps does. The two children at first squabble, but later become friends.

First Xar is captured by the Warriors, then Wish falls into the hands of the Wizards, or possibly it's the other way around. You get the feeling that everyone quite enjoys these tussles. But something much darker is going on. At the beginning of the book, Xar has found a huge black feather. He's convinced that it's a witch's feather, and he thinks that if he can summon up a witch, this will help him to gain access to the magic he desperately wants. But he utterly underestimates the power and the evil which will be unleashed if these creatures are allowed to return...

Xar and his father, the Enchanter

Xar and Wish are both delightful characters. Xar is impulsive, disobedient, and very likeable. Wish is more serious, and more wistful; she's treated with contempt by her powerful, beautiful mother, but still wishes to please her - just as Xar wants to please his charismatic father, the Enchanter. There's a host of delightful magical creatures and other acolytes of the two children too. The book is a beautiful object: hard-backed, chunky, and lavishly illustrated by Cressida Cowell. (The pictures of animals in particular, such as the wolves above, are really beautiful.) She has created another very engaging world, and I suspect this series will prove as popular as the first.

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JACK FORTUNE AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY by Sue Purkiss, Review by Penny Dolan.

Sometimes, as you start reading a new book, you forget that you know the writer personally, finding yourself instead in the grip of a wonderfully well-written story. Who is it by? you vaguely think. Who? . . . Oh! . . .Of course!  It’s So-and-so’s book! How nice! I’d forgotten that . . . What a pleasure!

Which is what happened as I read JACK FORTUNE AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY, a novel for 8-12 year olds, written by Sue Purkiss, co-editor of the Awfully Big Blog Adventure.

Inspired by the lives of 18th century plant-hunters, Sue has written a fast-moving historical adventure story.  Jack Fortune, the young hero, is energetic and interestingly naughty. Bored and with no school to attend, he can’t resist devising tricks - ones that made me laugh - mostly on his stern widowed Aunt Constance and her guests. He is immediately likeable and trouble!

Jack accidentally causes real damage, so Constance summons her scholarly bachelor brother, Uncle Edmund, as it is his turn to take responsibility for his nephew. Uncle Edmund refuses.

 Not only is he unused to children, but he is about to set off on his first plant-hunting trip to India. Jack, hearing this exciting news, wants to go along with Uncle Edmund and Aunt Constance, unable to take any more, agrees.

 Jack and his uncle  – and the reader – experience a new life full of challenge and interesting people and places. They sail to Calcutta, cross the great plain and travel through the jungle before reaching a high mountain kingdom with a hidden valley. All the way, Jack and his uncle face setbacks and dangers: vagabonds, wild animals,  “mountain sickness” and, at last, reports of a huge, legendary being who attacks intruders to the Hidden Valley. Moreover, an unknown traitor is spoiling the expedition party’s food supplies and causing problems with local villagers.  Who wishes them ill? Is it Sonam, their guide or Thondup, the heir to the throne, whom Jack has begun to admire?

Sue Purkiss’s plot moves along with plenty of pace and action and just enough description to fix the story in its historical time and place, and without overloading her young reader’s enjoyment. She also touches lightly and skilfully on darker issues such as servants and colonisation, but lets the bold adventure end as happily as it should.

However, I felt the book was about more than the plant-hunting quest: Jack and Uncle Edmund make a wonderfully odd and warm partnership, and the hardships met on the expedition teach them more about the other. Bookish Uncle Edmund slowly reveals his bravely determined nature and his passion for plant-hunting - especially for the blue flower that will restore the family fame and fortune. Meanwhile, faced with real demands and responsibilities rather than tea-parties and polite manners, Jack becomes the boy hero he was meant to be and is even able to accept his own inherited artistic gifts.

I liked JACK FORTUNE AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HIDDEN VALLEY very much because, despite the difficulties Jack and his Uncle face, the adventure is a positive and hopeful experience and one that might encourage children to look beyond everyday life and issues in school and out into a wider world.

Alma Books have also created some downloadable activities to support of this title:  http://almabooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/Jack-Fortune-Activity-Book.pdf

as well as an interview with the author Sue Purkiss: http://almabooks.com/interview-sue-purkiss-author-jack-fortune/                                                                          

Penny Dolan

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Walking Mountain, by Joan Lennon - reviewed by Sue Purkiss

People often ask where writers get their ideas from - and it's a question I find quite easy to answer. I don't have that many ideas, but the ones I do have really grip me, and I always know just where they came from.

But with a book like this, I really do want to ask exactly that same question - because it's so full of inventiveness and imagination. The characters, concepts and landscapes come fresh-minted: they feel absolutely new - a bit like Philip Reeve's, I suppose; but I can't think of many other books they remind me of. It's fantasy, yes, and there are lots of other fantasy books, but they often follow recognisable pathways - they're sword-and-sandal epics, for instance, or paranormal romances, or urban dystopias. I suppose there's a touch of the dystopias about this, but the feel of it is much warmer and more magical than that genre usually is.

It begins with a group of Drivers - sort of celestial shepherds - who's job is to herd meteors. But one day, they have a party, as you do, and when they check the herd afterwards, they realise that one meteor is missing. Three of the Drivers volunteer to go in search of it and retrieve it before it can do any harm. But they're too late. They can only watch as it hurtles into a blue-green planet, which disappears under a coat of grey ash from a hundred volcanoes. Life on this planet will be changed, changed utterly, and all the three drivers can do is try to ameliorate the damage that has been done.

Fast-forward several aeons, and we meet Pema and Singay, a boy and girl who live near the Walking Mountain. This mountain has hitherto regularly moved, revealing in its wake an area of fertile ground which enables the people to live. But lately, the mountain has been behaving out of character. Singay has been having strange dreams of catastrophic rock falls and earthquakes - and then the two children hear, impossibly, the sound of crying from inside the mountain...

What follows is a quest to save the earth from destruction, and a journey which tests Pema and Singay to the utmost. Warning - it's really, really sad at the end, but then Joan Lennon whisks up a heart-warming resolution, just when you think she can't possibly.

It's beautifully written. It's warm, funny, sad, happy - and did I mention that it's incredibly inventive? Do read it. You won't regret it.

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When Marnie Was There, by Joan G Robinson: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

Earlier in the year, I went on holiday to Norfolk. I'd only been there once before, to Yarmouth, years ago, and I didn't have very high expectations. I thought it was going to be flat and rather dull.

I was so wrong! In North Norfolk, where we were, the countryside was lovely: sloping fields, sometimes with rows of daffodils, woods, streams - and just something about the light. The towns and villages were compact, with characterful coffee shops, there was Nelson's birthplace, Blickling Hall and Sheringham Park - and then there was the coast. Salt marshes, great stretches of sand, circling birds - and vast skies.

At a shop at Cley Nature Reserve I bought the first in a series of mysteries set on the Norfolk coast, written by Elly Griffiths. (Brilliant - for a review see here.) After I'd written about it, a friend who lives in Norwich, writer Paeony Lewis, asked if I'd read a children's book called When Marnie Was There, by Joan G Robinson - it too was set in Norfolk, and she had a feeling I might like it.

She was absolutely right, and I don't know why I hadn't heard of it before. It was published in 1967 - I was a teenager then, so I suppose I was a bit too old for it and perhaps that's why I missed it. As with the Elly Griffiths books, the shifting, changing seascape is an integral part of the story; you can't always be sure what you're seeing - or even, perhaps, when you're seeing it. People from the Neolithic, Vikings, smugglers - none of these would look out of place here.

So it really doesn't seem too surprising when lonely orphan Anna, staying with an elderly couple for the summer, sees a girl in a white dress with long pale hair in the window of a house across the creek - a girl whom no-one else seems to have noticed. Anna is a self-contained child and a lonely one. She doesn't know how to make friends and she's given up trying. 'She knew perfectly well... that things like parties and best friends and going to tea with people were fine for everybody else, because everyone else was 'inside' - inside some sort of invisible magic circle. But Anna herself was outside. And so these things had nothing to do with her. It was as simple as that.'

But it's different with Marnie. The two girls are drawn to each other, and Anna - in this world of the sixties, where a child can spend hours by herself on the sea shore, in a boat, sometimes with an eccentric old man called Wuntermenny - is happier than she has ever been. As she spends time with Marnie, Anna blossoms; she becomes happier and more confident, more able to reach out to other people. I won't spoil the story - but at the end of it, Anna has learnt a great deal about herself in all sorts of ways - from her encounter with the mysterious Marnie, she's gained so much.

I can't find an image of the copy I have, but here's a still from the film. made by Studio Ghibli.

From the postscript, written by Joan Robinson's daughter, it's clear that this has been a novel which has appealed to people all over the world - she tells the story of a Japanese man, who, having read the book as a teenager, set out to find the place where it was set, with only the book itself as a guide. In the book, the village is called Little Overton - but that wasn't much help, because its real name is Burnham Overy. Still, he took the train to Kings Lynn, as Anna did in the book, caught the bus along the coast as she did - and recognised the place by a windmill which features in the book.

First published in 1967, my edition was printed in 2014. A film was made of it recently. This is an enduring story, a classic. And this doesn't surprise me. It may be set in the mid-twentieth century, but the emotional landscape of Anna - initially bleak, cold and lonely - ensures, sadly, that it will always be relevant; there will always be children who feel they don't fit. And the physical landscape of the Norfolk coast - wild, empty, sea-washed - provides a perfect reflection of her inner life, and a  perfect setting for a story where the barriers between reality and imagination shift and rearrange themselves - like the sand dunes and marshes themselves.

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KASPAR, PRINCE OF CATS by Michael Morpurgo: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

This isn't a new book; it came out in 2008. But I've only just read it, having acquired it in a book sale. I do remember reading at the time about Michael Morpurgo's stint as Writer in Residence at the Savoy Hotel - nice work if you can get it, I thought with just a hint of bright green envy.

The idea for the book came from a large sculpture of a black cat, which Morpurgo was intrigued to see in a glass showcase. When he made enquiries, he was told that almost a hundred years before, thirteen men had sat down to a dinner party at the Savoy. 'One of them scoffed loudly at the suggestion that thirteen might be an unlucky number, said it was so much tosh. Only a few weeks later, he was shot down in his office in Johannesburg, South Africa.' After that, the Savoy decided never to take such a risk again. If there are thirteen people for dinner, there is always a fourteenth chair - on which sits the Savoy cat.

Morpurgo tells his stories quite quietly and gently. Yet there are almost always moments of great drama - often tragedy - and this story is no exception.

Johnnie Trott is a bell boy, an orphan. He loves his job, and he is chosen to carry the Countess Kandinsky's luggage to her room when she arrives for a prolonged stay. he bonds with her cat, the elegant, aristocratic Kaspar, Prince of Cats, and the Countess, who is an opera singer, grows fond of him and he of her - in his heart, he thinks of her as a replacement mother. But she is killed in a tragic accident, and he is devastated.

It's up to him to take care of Kaspar, and he does his best; but Kaspar pines for his mistress and refuses to eat. At this point another significant character comes onto the scene - Lizziebeth, an American heiress.

Well, the story goes on. Lizziebeth and Johnnie become friends. Then, when she and her family are due to go back to America, she tells him in great excitement that they are to travel on a wonderful new ship. It's name? Well, it's called the Titanic...

It's an exciting story that gallops along and is peopled by colourful, interesting characters. It's illustrated by the wonderful Michael Foreman, who has illustrated so many of Morpurgo's books, and this adds greatly to its charm. His pictures of the shipwreck are stunning, but so is the detail of the scenes in the hotel and in London. A lovely book.

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Dragons at Crumbling Castle, by Terry Pratchett: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

If you're looking for a present for a ten year-old grandson - as I was the other day - there are two obvious reasons for choosing this book, instead of one of the many books with 'boy' in the title which seem to be the current 'thing'. (Beetle Boy, Monkey Boy, Ice Cream Boy... at least one of these isn't made-up, but trust me, there are loads more real ones.)

The first is that it's by Terry Pratchett, so it stands a good chance of being funny, fantastical and magical. The second is that it's a collection of short stories - so handy for bed-time reading, when it's been a long day and everyone's sleepy.

Above and beyond this, if you're a Terry Pratchett fan, this book is fascinating. Written by a teenage Terry Pratchett when he was a junior reporter with the Bucks Free Press, the stories for young readers, which appeared each week, foreshadow the ideas and themes of his later work
.

In the title story, King Arthur receives a report of dragons attacking a castle. Finding that all his knights are engaged elsewhere, and much too busy eating his breakfast egg to go and sort it out himself, he sends young Ralph, who cheerfully trots off on his little donkey to see what's going on. Along the way he encounters various individuals who become companions, including the fearsome Black Knight (who turns out to be just a little man in a big suit of armour), and a wizard called Fossfiddle -: He had the normal wizard's uniform: long white beard, pointed hat, a sort of nightdress covered in signs and spells and long floppy boots, which he had taken off, revealing red socks.

Does he sound familiar? Of course he does. He's clearly an early prototype for all the later wizards of the Unseen University - just as Ralph is the forerunner of heroes to come - unassuming, even a little weedy: but blessed with a combination of good sense, quiet determination, and a clear sense of what's right.

Other stories play with the notion of parallel worlds, which he uses to comment on the vagaries of the dominant species on this one. For instance, The Great Speck concerns the adventures of the inhabitants of a dust mote - one of those tiny specks you see floating in the air. This miniature world has two rival countries, Grabist and Posra. Each has an astronomer, and both of these spot that another, rapidly approaching dust mote shows signs of life. Everyone is astonished - no-one had believed that other dust motes could support life - and the astronomers are fired off in rockets to investigate. They accidentally take with them the rulers of the two countries. What's the first thing the rulers do when they arrive in the new world? They start to squabble over who's going to rule it.

But the collection is not just interesting in relation to Pratchett's later work. Even as a teenager, he knew how to tell a story, and these are funny and entertaining in their own right, and for the audience for which he originally intended them - children.

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Warrior King by Sue Purkiss. Reviewed by Ann Turnbull.

     Warrior King tells the story of King Alfred from when he was a child - the youngest of five brothers and therefore never expected to reign - to when he was a fugitive king, driven into hiding on the Isle of Athelney in the Somerset Levels. From there he gathered his army, beat back the Danes, and eventually set up the Danelaw - establishing the eastern side of the country as Danish territory and concluding a wary peace. He even began to envisage a time when England might become one country.

     The story is written in a clear, accessible style, using third person and moving freely between quite a large cast of characters. Most prominent of these are Alfred himself and Fleda, his daughter - a brave and intelligent girl who will appeal to young readers. There are also the voices and thoughts of various loyal followers, some courageous church leaders, and even the leader of the Danes, the dreaded Guthrum himself, so that we see his vulnerable side too.

     One person whose thoughts are unspoken is Cerys, a British wise woman with an extraordinary insight into people's hearts and minds. She is a powerful influence on Alfred, and brings a touch of believable not-quite-magic that fits well with the legend and the times.

     Warrior King draws together what, for me, were half-remembered fragments of Alfred's story, and weaves them into a coherent whole. Alfred was perhaps our greatest king, and yet we don't hear much about him now. His true story is inspiring, and Sue Purkiss has re-imagined it in a tale that keeps up its momentum throughout and builds to an exciting climax. She knows Somerset well, and her descriptions of the landscape through which her characters move add much to the appeal of this book.


Published by Roundhouse Books, 2015.  p/b and e-book.



www.annturnbull.com

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FINGERS IN THE SPARKLE JAR by Chris Packham: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

This isn't a book for children; it's a memoir of what it was like to be a child.

Chris Packham is well-known as a presenter of natural history programmes, notably Springwatch and Autumnwatch. He writes about his childhood in the sixties and early seventies. His story has obvious echoes of Barry Hines' famous book, Kes, about a working class boy who catches and trains a kestrel. Like Billy, Chris as a boy has a profound empathy with the natural world. In Kes there's a bit where Billy describes the sensation of putting his foot into a welly full of tadpoles - the boy Chris does some very similar things: the 'sparkle jar' incident of the title has something in common with that incident.

But this isn't a book 'like' Kes. In fact, it's not a book like any other I've ever read. It is a series of memories, not related chronologically, interspersed with accounts of sessions with a psychiatrist/psychologist whom Chris saw ten or so years ago, when he was suffering from a crippling episode of repression. I don't know how he managed to write in so much detail about these sessions - how did he remember everything they talked about? Or is it an approximation of what they said - a way of exploring his inner being, rather than an accurate representation of what was said? Whatever - these sections cast a light on his
memories of his childhood, and vice versa.

There's just as much detail in his memories of his parents, his early encounters with nature - and of how bewildering it was to be a child who had a different way of relating to the world than most. It's fascinating, and forensically honest.

The writing is extraordinary, rich and lyrical and full of a 'passionate intensity', to lift from Yeats, who, like Bruce Springsteen and Shakespeare, seems to provide a quote for almost every occasion. Here, for example, is his summation of an incident where he came across a cloud of moths in a wood.

Without the restless insects the place seemed stunned, stupefied, shocked by that ballet of gossamer violence, the wonder of plain and simple things drawn together to conjure such beauty, transforming that bubble of urban air into a theatre where an astonishing performance was fleetingly played to an awed audience of one, the memory of which would sparkle for a lifetime. And he knew it then, in that moment of dazed happiness, what a gift, what a thing he had seen, what a treasure he held.

It's not the easiest of reads, but it is immensely rewarding, on several different levels: notably in its minute and loving observation of the natural world - but also in its evocation of the world of a sensitive, driven, bemused boy who finds it much easier to relate to creatures than to human beings.


A version of this review has appeared on my own (mostly) reviewing blog. A Fool On A Hill.

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The Wolf Wilder, by Katherine Rundell - reviewed by Sue Purkiss

Bloomsbury, the publishers of The Wolf Wilder, clearly thought that they had something very special on their hands when they were thinking about how to present this novel, because they have produced a very lovely book. The layout is generous, with lots of white space which makes it very easy on the eye, and it's beautifully illustrated in black and white by Gelrev Ongbico.

 The book is set in the Russia of a century ago, just after the St Petersburg massacre. The Tsar is distant from his people, and Feo and her mother Marina live remotely from everyone. They are 'wolf-wilders'; this is, we are told, an inherited occupation. The scenario is that aristocrats in the city have a liking for keeping wolves as pets. When, inevitably, the wolves rebel, they are sent to wolf wilders who train them to live as they were meant to live, out in the forests. (They aren't killed because that would bring bad luck.)

Feo loves her three wolves, White, Grey and Black, and she and her mother are exceptionally close. They are happy, until one day their peace is shattered by a sadistic local army commander, Rakov, who believes their wolves have killed an elk, and orders them to kill any wolves sent to them from then on.

Of course they don't co-operate, and before long Marina is arrested, their house is burnt down, and when a boy soldier, Ilya, tells Feo that her mother has been taken to prison in St Petersburg, Feo knows at once that she will go and rescue her. So she, the wolves, and Ilya set off: and the rest of their book is about the journey, their continuing feud with Rakov, and the people they meet on the way.

It's a beautifully written book. Here, Katherine Rundell describes Marina: '...her face, a visitor had once said, was built on the blueprint used for snow leopards, and for saints. "The look," he had said, "is goddess, modified."' Or here's Ilya: 'He was tall and fair, and without the covering of snow he looked very thin; the bones in his hands seemed to be making a bid to escape from his skin. His voice sounded of cities: soft, Feo thought.'

Feo is fierce and very determined. She reminds me a bit of Lyra in Philip Pullman's Northern Lights; she's strong, rough at the edges, not at all sure how she should talk to people - but she wins others over by dint of her courage, her loyalty, and her blazing sense of what's right and what's wrong. She's charismatic: someone who others will follow.

Feo - you can just see her feet - and her three wolves, sleeping in a pile.

This book has the quality of a legend, a fairy tale - partly because of its setting, of course, in the forests of eastern Europe. But it's also grounded in a real place, in a time of turmoil, and the dialogue, the emotions of the characters, are also real; it's often funny too. i enjoyed it very much.

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The Book of Storms, by Ruth Hatfield: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

First, a warning: this is the first part of a trilogy, and the third part isn't out till November.

This is a highly original fantasy, about Danny, whose parents are obsessed by storms. One night they go out to track a particularly powerful one - and they don't return. When Danny ventures out into the garden looking for them the next morning, he finds that an old sycamore tree has been struck by lightening, and his eye is caught by a small stick which, though it's lying in the centre of the debris, is curiously unburnt. He picks it up - and finds he can hear the voice of the dying tree - and the voices of every other living thing, too...

The world the stick opens up to him, the strangeness of the events surrounding his parents' disappearance - and the fear that there might be trouble from social services if they find out that his parents left him alone - he is 11 - in the middle of the night: all these things convince him he must find his parents himself.  He finds clues in some notes made by his parents, and becomes convinced that he needs a certain Book of Storms, which is in the possession of an old man called Abel Korsakof who lives not too far away.

And so it begins. The reader finds out, quite a while before Danny, that the enemy of the piece is Sammael - who is a quite extraordinary creation. He's described as a demon - but he's not a typical demon; he doesn't breathe flames or have cloven hooves. He does do Faustian-type deals though - with, among others, Abel Kosakof - offering people what they most want in return for their souls, or 'sand'. He does, though, have a dry sense of humour, which I rather liked. And he's fond of his dog, though he doesn't treat her well. But there's no denying he has it in for the human race - and when Danny starts to get in his way, things turn very nasty, both for Danny and for those closest to him.

I found this a really powerful read. It's very well written: the fantasy world, and its relationship with the real world, become entirely convincing. The second book, The Colour of Darkness, is equally strong - though the new character, Cath, is so resilient and determined that she makes Danny look a bit of a wimp. When I'd finished the first two books, I immediately went to download the third - and teeth were gnashed when I found out that it doesn't come out till the autumn.

Just a word of caution - although Danny and Cath are 11, the trilogy is definitely not middle grade: this is not a happy-ever-after fantasy. There is death and violence, perpetrated by real-life characters as well as by fantasy ones. The covers are dark, and so are the stories. I'm hoping for a happy ending, but I'm not convinced I'm going to get one! But then, The Lord of the Rings also has a hefty share of darkness, and in that too, while good ultimately triumphs, it's at considerable cost.

Ruth Hatfield is a very talented new writer, and I look forward to seeing what she will produce next.

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The Lie Tree, by Frances Hardinge: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

The Lie Tree, by Frances Hardinge, recently made headlines by winning the Costa Book of the Year Prize - the first children's book to have done so since Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials. This is a richly complex Gothic horror story, with language and concepts as challenging as Pullman's. It is the story of Faith, a girl whose father is a vicar but also an archaeologist and natural scientist living at the beginning of the nineteenth century - a time when people (mostly, but not entirely, men) could be all these things at the same time; when the worlds of art and science were much closer than they are now; and when new wonders were constantly being discovered - and old certainties anxiously challenged.

Faith's father is strict and distant, and dismissive of his daughter, even though she is clearly much cleverer than her younger brother, Howard. No-one tells her why the family must suddenly move to the island of Vane, but Faith is a curious girl who refuses to be limited by what is expected of her, and she makes it her business to find out what is going on. 

She soon discovers that her father is fleeing from rumours that he is a fraud; that many of his most famous fossil finds are not genuine. She decides to investigate further - and she finds that at the centre of his obsessions is a mysterious tree which he has hidden in a sea cave. This tree, she eventually discovers, literally feeds on lies - and produces fruit which, when eaten, reveals hidden truths...

Meanwhile, the rumours about her father have reached Vane. Gossip spreads, and the atmosphere becomes as menacing and brooding as the swiftly growing tree. Faith decides she will harness the tree's power to find out the truth - but of course, when we go searching for the truth, we don't always like what we find.

The tree itself - well. Very sinister. There's something about this element of the story that reminds me of The Monkey's Paw, by WW Jacobs, which also features an object with mysterious powers found abroad, whose appropriation by westerners leads to unexpected and terrible consequences - as does Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone. Perhaps there's something to do with colonialism going on here - the downside of the urge to explore which led to so many adventures and discoveries from the end of the eighteenth century on.

I found this a compulsive, richly textured read, and you have to admire Faith's determination to confound expectations about what, in Victorian times, would have been appropriate for a girl in terms of life chances and behaviour. There are other interesting female characters too; her mother, Myrtle, seems fairly dreadful at first, but I very much warmed to her as she gradually revealed  unexpected depths of deviousness and determination.

For more reviews and other stuff, please see my blog, A fool on a hill.

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Railhead, by Phlip Reeve: reviewed by Sue Purkiss

Philip Reeve is a remarkable writer, with an imagination the size of one of the many planets he writes about in this book. I've read several of his Mortal Engines books, and also his Larklight series, for sightly younger readers: and I've been lost in admiration after reading all of them, at his exuberance and inventiveness and the sheer range of his characters and the worlds they explore.

Railhead is set in this universe, but far into the future. There are knowing and funny nods back to our time; Casablanca is referenced, and ancient earth languages, including Ancient Geek and Klingon. (Who knew?) In this 'world', travel among the planets takes place by means of trains. But these are no ordinary trains: these are trains with souls, which feel joy, love, sorrow and anger. And they are not the only sentient forms which Reeve creates. There are also the Hive Monks: hybrid beings made up of lots of beetles which somehow coalesce around a flimsy framework to form the simulacrum of a human being - and the Motoriks, dismissively known as 'Wire Dollies'. These are androids, not meant to be individuals with feelings - but one, Nova, is very individual indeed. Her quest for a soul is indicated by her creation of freckles to spoil the perfection of her 'skin'; like all of the characters, human or not, she is multi-layered and we come to care for her, to respond to her warmth and complexity.

The hero of the story is - at the beginning - a small-time thief called Zen Starling. He, like many a fantasy hero, soon finds out that he has a back-story and a destiny of which he has been hitherto unaware. He is plucked from obscurity by an ambivalent master-criminal named Raven, because he is uniquely qualified to infiltrate a powerful family called the Noons and steal from them something that Raven very much wants. But, being a hero, he is not inclined to meekly fall in with anyone else's plans, and everything goes horribly wrong.

This is a beautifully written book with a story that moves along with the pace of a high-speed train. The characters are complex and varied; there is humour, there is pathos, there is love. And all this in a world which Reeve has constructed with dazzling aplomb. In his 'ThankYou', at the end of the book, Reeve pays tribute to Sarah McIntyre, with whom he has written books for much younger readers: he says that she 'made me want to write more stories at a time when I felt ready to give up.' We must be very thankful to Sarah for this - because if this writer gave up, it would be a desperate waste of an extraordinary talent.

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Silver Skin, by Joan Lennon - reviewed by Sue Purkiss

This isn't just a GOOD book - it's a VERY GOOD book. I'm quite certain of this, because I've read it twice. I read it when I first got it, but stupidly didn't write the review of it then; so today I had to remind myself of it - and was soon engrossed, and read it the whole way through again.

The novel concerns a time-traveller, Rab. He is from the future - a future where space is at a premium, but people live contentedly together; in part because something is put in the water to depress their sexual and other urges. They are protected against the harsher realities of life; they feel no pain, for instance, because each person has a sort of technological guardian called a Com, which protects them and sorts out any problems or glitches.

Rab's mother gives him the latest gadget - a Silver Skin - which will enable him to travel into the past and get lots of useful information for his research project. He decides on the 19th century, but a violent storm interferes with navigation, and he finds himself much, much further back - in Skara Brae, at the point where the Stone Age gives way to the Bronze Age.

The story is briefly, but cleverly framed in the 19th century, but the heart of it is in the Stone Age, and in the relationships between Rab, a girl called Cait, and a formidable wise woman called Voy. All these characters are beautifully drawn. Rab and Cait are both, in a sense, outsiders. They are drawn to each other, but - given the circumstances - things are not easy between them. Voy is easy to dislike, but we are shown what her life has been, and how much she misses her man, Gairstay, and so we begin to understand her. The book is suffused with a sense of the place in which it is set; the villagers think that Rab is a selkie, half-man, half-seal, and the sea is a constant presence.

The writing is lovely. Here's one little example. This is the 19th century; there is a storm, and Mrs Trevelyan is unable to sleep: "She watched the little flame thrashing on the candle wick and waited for the morning." Thrashing is not a word I would have thought of using, yet it paints the picture of the flickering flame far more effectively than guttering, or indeed flickering - both of which would have been more obvious choices. And the sentence is just beautifully balanced; it works so well.

The earth is entering a cooler phase, and the people are afraid. Without the sun, they cannot perform the ceremonies that enable the dead to depart in peace; they are aware that things are changing, and that the future may be worse than the present - which, of course, has resonances for us. Is the solution which has enabled humanity to survive into Rab's age a viable one for us - would we be prepared to accept the sacrifices it entails?

This really is a book which satisfies on a great many levels. It would be great to study in class - if the curriculum allows!

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