JUDITH KERR'S CREATURES - reviewed by Emma Barnes

“Once there was a little girl called Sophie, and she was having tea with her mummy in the kitchen...”

So begins Judith’s Kerr’s classic picture book The Tiger Who Came to Tea. Without ever setting out to learn it, I know the whole text off by heart. I doubt that I’m alone. When I went to see Judith Kerr at this year’s Edinburgh International Book Festival, not only was the huge marquee packed to capacity with fans of all ages, but the Chair, Lindsay Fraser, revealed that when she worked in a bookshop, Kerr’s Tiger was the most stolen book. The reason – small children coming into the bookshop would immediately recognise it, and feel that this familiar and much loved story must belong to them.

Judith Kerr is ninety this year. She is the author of many fantastic and classic children’s books – from Mog the Forgetful Cat and its successors, to lightly fictionalised accounts for older children of her childhood as a refugee from Nazi Germany (When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit and its sequels).

The Festival session marked the publication of Judith Kerr’s Creatures, a memoir of her life produced in glorious hardbook, packed with illustrations and other artwork. Kerr herself was immensely charming and gently funny, as she read a passage which celebrated her late husband, the television writer Nigel Kneale. It’s a cliché that behind every great man lies a great woman: and it was lovely (and moving) to hear this tribute to a husband who always supported his wife’s gifts, from encouraging her to take her first writing job, at the BBC, to providing vital help with the plot of Mog the Forgetful Cat. “Have her catch a burglar,” he suggested, when Judith said she needed an exciting finale for her book – and the rest is history.

There’s lots of fascinating material in the book, from the tale of how her father, theatre critic Alfred Kerr, was on Hitler’s blacklist, and fled Germany after a tip-off in 1933, to be followed by his family, to Judith Kerr’s experiences in war-time London, to her pioneering approach to her first picture books. (Inspired by Dr Seuss, she aimed to use only a limited vocabulary, and to never to have anything in the text that was already clear from the pictures.)

All of this is accompanied by marvellous images, from family photos, to childhood paintings, to the work she produced as an art student – even her designs for wallpaper.

For anyone interested in writing or illustrating children’s books this book is particularly special – and useful. For it includes the manuscript stories, roughs, and complete spreads for many of Judith’s books. It’s wonderful to see Mog, somehow completely herself, even in an early manuscript squiggle. But it is also a rare chance to actually understand how a picture book is constructed - how this creation of words and images really works.

It’s a wonderful book, one to dip into, treasure and keep close by you on the shelf.

Published by HarperCollinsChildren'sBooks ( 2013)

Review by Emma Barnes
www.emmabarnes.info

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WHAT’S UP WITH JODY BARTON – by Hayley Long

Reviewed by Jackie Marchant

This is a story about living above a café with your twin sister, a soppy dad and glamorous mother, having to help in the café whether you like it or not, until the day Liam Mackie walks in and you fall instantly and hopelessly in love.  And so does your twin sister.

It’s about watching your twin sister flirt outrageously in a ridiculously short skirt with the boy you’ve fallen for, about having to answer her endless questions about whether or not you think he’s fit, until you make the ultimate sacrifice and hand her the mobile phone he left in the café, so she can be the one who gives it back to him. 

But why does Jody make this sacrifice, when Jolene has ditched dozens of boyfriends, after declaring each one of them ‘the one’?   How can Jody bear to watch them together in the café?

Because Jody has a secret. 

And when the secret comes out, this book changes from a lively, fun read into something a lot more serious – but no less fun and lively.  Having let Liam into the secret, Jody now has a terrible time agonising over whether or how to explain why it has led to a horrible row between Liam and Jolene that has left Jolene inconsolable.  But Liam is not going to keep quiet about the secret and, once Jolene finds out, the happy balance within the while family is threatened.

It’s difficult to say more without revealing the secret, which came as a complete surprise to me.  But the aftermath is beautifully handled in the same light, highly readable way.   Jody is such an engaging character that we are desperate to keep turning the pages to make sure everything works out in the end. 

This is a highly engaging, enjoyable read.

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Writing Children's Fiction, by Yvonne Coppard and Linda Newbery, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart

 

Unusually for a ‘how to’ book, this book makes a very enjoyable, as well as interesting read, whether or not you are looking for specific information.  Written, back and forth in short chunks, between the two authors and referencing numerous others, its style is lively and fun at the same time as being highly informative, clear, and full of wisdom.  Those bite-sized chunks make this very much a ‘just one more’ sort of a read, and you find yourself gobbling it up far faster than you intended! 

The two authors tell their own personal tales of reading and writing and being published.  But this is no self-indulgent wallow.  It is a highly practical book, well indexed and referenced in ways which enable you to go straight to any particular point you may be after.  And it is really up-to-date with the politics and developments in the current children’s book market. 

The book falls into three sections.  The first section is discussing children’s books.  It tells you why and how children’s books are important, but also how they can offer a wonderful opportunity to writers who want to explore story in ways that writing for adults simply doesn’t allow.  It tells how it is very hard to write for children, but also how fun and how powerful it can be.  That’s exciting. 

The second section gives short accounts by a range of important children’s authors who talk about their own, very different, experiences of writing.  A wonderful, amusing, account of the very strong family stuff that set Jennifer Donnelly writing historical fiction.  Read how Frank Cottrell-Boyce likes to write with no ending in mind but the promise that a ‘flash of lightning’ will arrive at the end of a narrative to show how to make sense of it all.  Mal Peet tells us to ‘be wary of research.  It’s like a helpful passenger with the dangerous habit of trying to grab the wheel’.  And Andy Stanton writes funny-seriously about the importance of writing funny books.  And much more.

In the third section we get practical advice about each stage of writing and submitting.   

This book even tells which sort of children’s book is most sought after by publishers at the moment.  But if you want to know what that is, you’ll have to read the book!

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The Bone Dragon by Alexia Casale, reviewed by C.J. Busby


The Bone Dragon is an extraordinary book - strong, delicate, magical and matter of fact all at once. It's beautifully written, and will, I'm sure, be deservedly feted by prize committees. It's also gripping, and funny, and very original.

The main protagonist, Evie, is a young teenager who is adopted, and gradually recovering from childhood abuse. At the start of the book she has had a number of shattered ribs removed, and the remnants of one of them is carved into a dragon, to keep by her bedside. The piece of broken rib, symbol of her helplessness against the violence she's suffered, is transformed into a symbol of strength and endurance. But it is soon clear that it is more than just a symbol -  the bone dragon comes to life, becomes a kind of protector spirit and guide. In a number of strange, magical interludes, the dragon takes Evie on a slow journey of healing, their night-time adventures exploring the moonlit fens around her house gradually helping to dissolve some of the anger and the strong defenses that have partially shut Evie off from her new friends and adopted family. Casales makes it clear that the dragon does not exist just in Evie's imagination - there is real mud on her clothes in the morning, and real consequences of some of the dragon's acts: this is magic. But it's a strange, wayward magic that is woven into an otherwise very straightforward narrative of Evie's life and recovery. We learn about her ups and downs with her new family, the process by which they themselves are gradually coming to terms with the death of their son and their brother's wife in a car accident, Evie's troubles at school, her relationship with a teacher who also becomes her counsellor, and the physical complications of her rib operation. Magic and matter-of-fact events mingle, as night follows day, each equally gripping.

It's the counterpoint of these two elements that makes the book so unusual, especially in children's literature, where books are generally either fantasy or 'real-life'. Casales is even more unusual in weaving this thread of magic into a book that deals with the very contemporary and troubling issues of domestic violence and abuse, and particularly in producing a book that deals with those issues obliquely, delicately, without the least bit of sensationalism or easy emotional tugs on the reader. What Evie suffered at the hands of her birth family is never specified, although it can be inferred - she herself, as the narrator, avoids giving it words, cleverly deflecting the probes of her teacher/counsellor, and indeed avoids even thinking about it except in sideways, partial glimpses. We feel the weight of its horror at moments, but always counterbalanced by the warmth, love and understanding Evie is surrounded with from her adopted family. Similarly, the bullying she suffers at school is painful, but always balanced by the support she gets from her two best friends. And ultimately, the anger and fear she still feels about her birth family is balanced by the steadfast, if elliptical, promise of the dragon.

The bone dragon acts as a kind of counterpart to the trauma Evie has suffered - as if the outrageous wrongness of what happened to her has called forth an equally outrageous and irrational magic in response, to rebalance the world. And there is indeed a kind of rebalancing in what the bone dragon achieves - a measure of peace for Evie and a measure of justice in the world. Along the way Casales offers us some wonderful characters and some extremely moving, funny, true-to-life interactions between them - I particularly love Evie's adopted Uncle Ben (everyone should have an Uncle Ben - where can I get one?). I've read reviews that carp slightly about how lovely Evie's adopted family are, as if Casales makes it all too easy. I don't think she does - I think what she shows is just how scarring this kind of experience is for any child, even when they get the best possible second chance, but also, just how much difference such a second chance can make. Personally, I mistrust books that pile on the misery, and one of the things I loved most about this book is precisely that Evie gets the love and security she deserves, and the help she needs, whether from her new family or from the magical bone dragon.

At the end of the book, Casales informs us that she herself, like Evie, has a piece of rib in a pot, and notes that potential critics should beware: it is just waiting to become a dragon. This, I assume, explains the incredibly assured and vivid descriptions she gives of the pain and feeling of shattered ribs. But since this is a nice review, she (hopefully) won't be needing that dragon to protect her!


C.J. Busby is the author of a knockabout magical fantasy series for children aged 7-9, Frogspell and sequels (see www.frogpell.co.uk)
Twitter: @ceciliabusby

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LAST TRAIN FROM KUMMERSDORF by Leslie Wilson. Reviewed by Ann Turnbull.

Germany in 1945 was a nation in defeat, broken by war and lost illusions.  This powerful novel, shortlisted for the Guardian Children's Fiction Prize in 2004, is a story of two 14 year olds trying to find their way home across their war-torn country.  Hanno is a young soldier drafted into the Home Guard.  He has just seen his twin brother killed in action.  Effi has no one left except her father, who is in the US Army.  They are without food, shelter or help.  All that keeps them going is the natural optimism of youth.

These two children tentatively reach out, form a bond, and experience the beginnings of love.  But both are damaged by their experiences and are unwilling, at first, to reveal to each other the extent of their pain.

They meet up with a group of refugees and continue their journey with them, dogged by hunger, exhaustion and constant danger.  All the refugees have experienced horrors.  And yet the narrative is far from grim.  There is humour and kindness in the interaction between people - and in the middle of the book there is a delightful, almost surreal section in which the refugees discover an abandoned train full of luxurious goodies intended for Nazi officials.

Hanno and Effi seem so real you feel you know them.  Their youthful love for each other is tender and heartbreaking in the midst of so much evil, and the climax of their story is perfectly judged and unsentimental.

It's rare to find a novel about World War II written from a German perspective, and for that reason, as well as its fine writing and gripping story, this book should be widely read.

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