FOXCRAFT: THE ELDERS by Inbali Iserles; reviewed by Gillian Philip

CHRISTMAS IS ALMOST HERE SO AWFULLY BIG REVIEWS IS TAKING A SHORT BREAK. WE'LL BE BACK AGAIN AT THE START OF JANUARY 2017

UNTIL THEN, MUCH HAPPY READING TO YOU ALL, 

AND THANKS TO ALL THE AWFULLY BIG (AND BRILLIANT) REVIEWERS

FOR ALL THEIR POSTS DURING 2016.

Meanwhile, here's Gillian Philip, writing about Inbali Iserles FOXCRAFT series:

I've been looking forward enormously to the second instalment of Inbali Iserles' magical series FOXCRAFT, and from the moment I dived into the first chapter of Book Two, THE ELDERS, I knew the wait had been worth it. It's the kind of story that starts with an earthquake - or at least, the mystical tremor of malinta in the ground beneath Isla's paws - and builds to a spectacular climax. 

When we left her at the end of Book One (THE TAKEN), Isla - a former urban fox whose family were torn from her in a brutal act of violence - was venturing into the unknown Wildlands in search of her lost brother Pirie. She's little more than a cub, but Isla is blessed - or perhaps cursed - with a strong talent for Foxcraft, the magic that enables foxes to vanish, to mimic other creatures, or even to shapeshift. Foxcraft itself is an enthralling and exciting creation - one that is entirely believable to fox-watchers - and Iserles does not flinch from giving her magic a bad side. Like all strong charms, there are negative consequences to using Foxcraft's power, and Isla finds out much more about those  downsides in this breathlessly-paced adventure.

In Book One, Isla managed to shake off the charismatic, artful, but treacherous Siffrin - my favourite character of the series. But as Book Two opens, she is responding to the scream of a fox in distress, and when she runs to his rescue, she soon finds herself reluctantly entangled with another young fox, Haiki. He too is searching for his lost family, and he wants them both to travel together in search of the legendary Elders. Isla is not so sure - but Haiki soon proves a loyal and dependable companion, even if his cowardice sometimes gets the better of him.

Isla and Haiki journey in search of their families through forest, river, cliff and wasteland, and their trials are more than enough to keep a reader on the edge of her seat. They face dogs, coyotes and 'furless' hunters - but their most fearsome enemies have followed Isla since Book One: the Taken, mindless slaves of the sinister and unseen Mage. These menacing, relentless, yet strangely pitiable foxes pursue Isla and Haiki with barely a let-up, and our heroes' escapes are frequent, terrifying and breathtakingly narrow.

Inbali Iserles adds her own beautiful illustrations to the chapter headings 

Iserles writes landscape into life, and populates it with characters who range from endearing to terrifying, but who are always multidimensional and real. The skulk who take in Isla and Haiki at a moment of extreme danger are a family you can instantly love, with all the personalities and conflicts of any family. I loved them all, from the weakling Mox to his grumpy grandmothers, and my heart was in my mouth as the Mage's hench-foxes prowled ever-closer. Two of the family, Tao and Simmi, join Isla and Haiki in their quest to find help and foxcraft-skills from the Elders; as a crisis forces them to set out from the safety of their den, the book begins to climb towards its chilling, thrilling denouement.

Inbali Iserles has created a world of incredible beauty, terror and believable magic. The sheer physicality of the descriptive writing takes the reader directly into the mind and skin of a fox. I could feel the frost on my paws - and that spine-tingling quiver of the earth at the summer malinta, when day and night are in balance. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that Isla and Haiki find the Elders at the very moment it matters - but they find much, much more, and not all of it what they hoped for.

In this second instalment we discover more about Foxcraft itself, and about the dreadful Mage and his motives. The horrors of this 'Tailless Seer' are creeping remorselessly across the land, and there is a distinct sense that time is running out for all foxes. 

More happily, I am delighted to say, we meet charming, conflicted Siffrin again.

There are three books in the Foxcraft series. I'm back to waiting, and I'm more impatient than ever. 

Foxcraft: The Elders by Inbali Iserles; Scholastic £5.99

www.gillianphilip.com

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SEVEN MILES OF STEEL THISTLES by Katherine Langrish; reviewed by Gillian Philip

I wanted to take more time to read this lovely book, a collection (with amendments and additions) of Katherine Langrish’s posts in her blog of the same name. In fact, halfway through I paused to berate myself. If a book is as beautifully written and engrossing as this one, I told myself, you ought to relax, take your time, roll it around your brain for a while and make it last.

But by that time I was with the story of Briar Rose, the Sleeping Beauty, and Langrish was placing it in a context of stopped time, suspended animation, preserved moments. And I realised that it was fine to spend a hot and sunny afternoon doing nothing but immersing myself in this investigation of, and paean to, fairytales. So long as thorn bushes didn’t start growing up around the house, one gulp at one sitting was a perfectly good way to devour it.

Rescuing Sleeping Beauty from her reputation as the most passive heroine in storytelling is just one of the author’s feats. (I use the word deliberately; ‘Seven Miles of Steel Thistles’ is a description of an obstacle in a story of one of those rambling fairytale quests, but Langrish also likens it to the act of writing a book. I can totally relate.) She kills stone-dead the notion that fairytales are all about weak, passive princesses awaiting rescue; her retelling of the story of Mr Fox – a far more feminist folktale than Perrault’s Bluebeard –  is especially delightful, and I envy the schoolchildren who have heard her tell it live. 

Langrish begins, though, with an analysis of what fairytales are, and where they came from, and the often blurred distinctions between fairytales, myths and legends. As she puts it in the introduction:

“The field of fairy stories, legends, folk tales and myths is like a great, wild meadow. The flowers and grasses seed everywhere; boundaries are impossible to maintain. Wheat grows into the hedge from the cultivated fields nearby, and poppies spring up in the middle of the oats…”

But Katherine Languish has a forensic approach to classifying them and clarifying the distinctions. It’s not about the fairies: plenty of fairytales have none at all. They’re not about characterisation, or intricate description, or even sane and logical plotting. These are stories most of all about ordinary people, their lives, their hopes and fears – albeit through the filter of weird metamorphoses and talking foxes. Fairytales “don’t ask to be believed”; but in the splendid chapter Desiring Dragons, Langrish declares that it’s our ability to think symbolically that makes us human. Far from telling children (and adults) they should grow out of Harry Potter, Langrish believes that “Myths and stories deserve to be taken seriously - read and written seriously - because there are things humanity needs to say that can only be said in symbols.”

Seven Miles of Steel Thistles is a wide-ranging journey through centuries – millennia – of these symbolic stories; as well as retelling and analysing fairytales from many cultures, Langrish gives us personal stories of her own love – begun in childhood – for these uniquely human creations. The chapters are punctuated by some of her own beautiful, sharp poems inspired by folk and fairytales. And she has done some fascinating detective work on the various versions of The Great Selkie of Sule Skerrie. It’s unsurprising that the original can’t be tracked down (though the journey is entertaining) – as she points out, there are no such thing as original folktales. We have no idea how they began – and one highly entertaining chapter (The King Who Had Twelve Sons) details how we sometimes don’t even know how they end.

I’m a huge fairytale nerd, so I guess it’s not surprising that I loved this book: one to make time stop on a hot, languid summer afternoon. I may have read it faster than I meant to, but I’ll be reading it again, very soon. It’s a story all of its own, and after all, that's what stories are for.

Seven Miles of Steel Thistles by Katherine Langrish; The Greystones Press; rrp £12.99

www.gillianphilip.com

Seven Miles of Steel Thistles by Katherine Langrish; The Greystones Press; rrp £12.99

www.gillianphilip.com

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HORIZON ALPHA: PREDATORS OF EDEN by D.W. Vogel; reviewed by Gillian Philip

Dinosaurs in space. DINOSAURS IN SPACE!

I could just leave my review there, because let's face it, that is an awesome enough premise, but that would be doing this book a great disservice. The book opens as our protagonist Caleb sets out on a dangerous mission; but there's some unsettling history to the way his small human community met the dinosaurs.

The calamity that has destroyed Planet Earth is, for once, not the consequence of humanity's misdeeds: it's simply a giant cosmic accident. Mercury wobbles in its orbit; Jupiter's gravitational pull alters; Earth's scientists realise they have eighty years to save what's left of humanity. And that's it. From that terrifying moment, it's been a race against time to build four Horizon spaceships that will carry a small sample of humanity to distant, unknown worlds. One of the ships, Gamma, never gets out of the solar system; on the others, generations live and die without setting foot on solid ground.

Horizon Alpha is the first to reach a habitable planet, Tau Ceti e. Horizons Beta and Delta are still somewhere out there, our narrator Caleb assumes: still speeding across unimaginable distances in search of a home. That's a melancholy enough ghost in the story, but because of an explosion as the shuttles are loading, Horizon Alpha is left a wreck in space. Now it orbits Ceti, a spectral and eerie presence that Caleb can't forget – not least because his own father died there, saving as many as he could.

The sheer desperation of the survivors makes this book a nerve-shredding fight for survival from the outset. They're not well-equipped; they have no means of escape; they simply have to endure, and scavenge what they can from the planet's surface and from the wreckage of other shuttles. They can't even be sure of keeping their camp's protective electric fence powered up. And boy, do they need that electric fence...

The creatures that live on this planet aren't Earth dinosaurs, Caleb emphasises; they're what evolved on Ceti instead. Some of them are exactly like ours (what's a dinosaur story without a T-Rex or two?); others are monsters that are entirely native to Ceti. And what monsters – the highly intelligent and terrifying 'Wolves' (called that only because they're grey, and hunt in packs); the motionless, apparently somnolent Crabs, which lie perfectly camouflaged till they lunge to snap a traveller in two; Gilas, creatures that only have to bite once...

The dinosaurs clearly can't be allowed to breach Eden's fence; so fifteen-year old Caleb (who has already lost a brother as well as a father) is chosen for a military sortie, to retrieve a prized power core from a crashed shuttle. Of course, too much can go wrong on this planet; for the mission's own shuttle flight, it goes quickly, violently wrong. Only six members of the party survive the crash.

The good news: they swiftly find the old shuttle wreckage and its precious power core. The bad news: they have to make their way back to their settlement, Eden, on foot and with barely any supplies. And given the hostile environment of Ceti and its native fauna, the expedition becomes a classic, nail-biting, And-Then-There-Were-None horror story.

I was gripped throughout. Caleb has courage – it wouldn't be possible to have survived on Ceti this long without it – but he knows his shortcomings, and he is terribly afraid. His brother vanished on a similar mission, and Caleb is desperate not to become another lost son for his mother to grieve. That makes him cautious to begin with, and the reader can sympathise. The terror only increases as they get closer to Eden, and there are plenty of obstacles, inanimate and living, that threaten to stop them dead. But Caleb's is a classic Hero's Journey, and when things get critically worse, he knows he has to find it in himself to save what's left of their party.

The characters can't help but be sympathetic, given what they're up against – and what they're fighting for, which is the highest possible stakes. They're all individuals, vividly drawn, and you root for every one, from the gruff and competent General Carthage to the eager but nervous naturalist Sara Arnson. You want them all to get out alive. You know perfectly well that won't happen.

D.W. Vogel puts a great deal of care into the technical, natural and scientific detail; the Tau Ceti e ecosystem makes sense, and so does the history of humanity's remnants. There are no laser guns for fighting off alien creatures; humanity didn't have time to invent them. This is a down-and-dirty, desperate fight for survival against impossible odds; The Walking Dead, but with dinosaurs.

The story ends not on a frustrating cliffhanger, but with a development that the reader desperately wants to follow through to its consequences. I'm on tenterhooks for the next instalment.


(currently available only as Kindle edition in the UK)

Horizon Alpha: Predators of Eden by D.W. Vogel; Future House Publishing £2.04

www.gillianphilip.com






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BROKEN SKY by Lee Weatherly: reviewed by Gillian Philip

"Everyone has to believe in something," says Amity Vancour's little brother, Hal. He means, of course, that people need to believe; but as it turns out, an awful lot of people love to believe in something. What Hal has not yet seen, at the quarter-point in this chilling novel, is a population persuaded with alarming ease to believe willingly, gladly, joyfully in something entirely irrational. 

I say 'chilling', but L.A. Weatherly's Broken Sky is more of a spine-freeze. Following the Cataclysm – a nuclear conflagration a couple of thousand years ago – the world has essentially been rebooted. Amity Vancour lives in an era that is more or less the 1940s, but second-time-around. And this time, humanity seems to have learned its lesson. 

Wars have happened in this universe – it's what people do – but Amity's own grandmother Louise, who lived through an appalling one, was instrumental in putting an end to them forever. The world is now overseen by the World for Peace, an international organisation that prioritises and ranks inter-state conflicts, then resolves them. The instruments of this admirable policy are the Peacefighters, a noble force who fight for their countries' rights against one another, at great personal risk but with none to civilians or large armies. For this service, Peacefighters are idolised by a grateful population – and fully trusted. Their thrilling Firedove [Spitfire] duels take place in the skies above the WfP complex, neutral territory in the Western Seaboard where the pilots of all nations socialise (when they're not engaged in aerial combat with one another). This world is not utopia, but it feels like the best version of humanity, and the Peacefighters are at its heart.

Enter John Gunnison, the demagogue who rules the neighbouring Central States – and who eyes the Western Seaboard with avarice. The Peacefights have been going his way lately, so Amity is thrilled and proud when her win in a duel retains the Western Seaboard's oil rights for five years. When that result is overturned for reasons she doesn't understand, the first doubts creep in – and when pilots begin to die in straightforward fights, things quickly get a lot more sinister.

Gunnison is a tremendous and shockingly believable villain. When we finally meet him, through Weatherly's secondary character Kay, his charisma shines, and it's clear how he has reached the pinnacle of power. His genius has been to manipulate the population with astrology; his strength comes from his genuine, fanatical belief. Astrological charts are cast for every citizen of the Central States; a Discordant outcome results in correction camps, torture and death. And while Gunnison's belief is sincere, those around him survive by knowing just how to manipulate a chart to make him happy. Kay prides herself on knowing how to read people; resourceful and ruthless, she is determined to reach his inner circle and stay alive.

Broken Sky begins with Amity on the run, alone and desperate and terrified for the life of her lover and childhood friend, Collie. From this heart-in-mouth flash-forward, Weatherly takes us back to Amity's previous golden existence as a respected Peacefighter, and the great mystery begins: how did she get from there to here? The story rarely lets up the tension, and when it does it's only for touching interludes of love and family life. Amity is a splendid protagonist, courageous, compassionate and able; and we fall in love with Collie almost as thoroughly as she does. But don't let me give the impression there's sentimentality in the romance; Peacefighters can't afford it. These are tough, passionate, honest warriors and their relationship feels real. 

What also feels very real is the world they live in. I felt sorriest for a character we never meet: President Lopez of the Western Seaboard, a politician doing his best for a nation that is increasingly unhappy and deprived as the Peacefights go against them. The people of the WS gaze with envy at the prosperous Central States and its strong, charismatic leader, and they begin to wonder if astrology can do the same wonders for them. They don't know – or don't want to know – about the Discordants and their fate. 

One of the creepiest aspects of the novel is the Astrology shops that begin to pop up with increasing frequency in the Western Seaboard; everyone has to believe in something. Astrology might seem like a stretch as a way to hypnotise a population; but Weatherly makes it an entirely believable phenomenon. And why not? These are not the first nations to fall wholesale for the joyfully bombastic rallies of a demagogue. Soon everyone's wearing their star sign on their lapel; after all, it's just a brooch, just a bit of fun. It's not as if it'll ever be obligatory... but what if Gunnison's right? What if the Discordants are somehow responsible for everyone's problems? Harmony is a benevolent ideal, isn't it? Perhaps a truly perfect world is within reach if Discordant elements can be neutralised.  

Lee Weatherly does a magnificent job of examining the good intentions of humanity, and the fragility of those ideals when put into practice. Good people succumb to temptation; good people begin to think about ends, and the means they are willing to tolerate in their pursuit. Good people decide to believe in bad people, and it's never going to end well.

Action, romance, heartbreak, betrayal, agonising guilt and heart-stopping tension: Broken Sky has it all. Oh, and fascinatingly detailed Spitfire dogfights. And delightful future-historical period detail. And TWISTS; dear Lord, the twists. And by the way, it's more than suitable for fully-grown adults as well as young ones. 

I should stop before I gush any more about this tremendous book (the first in a trilogy), but I'll leave you with a link to Lee Weatherly's Broken Sky Pinterest board (I was going to steal some illustrations from it, but the choice is too difficult). And besides, I found this shot of Ms Weatherly in a Spitfire: 

BROKEN SKY by Lee Weatherly; Usborne, £8.99

Broken Sky on Pinterest

www.gillianphilip.com 

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THE NOWHERE EMPORIUM by Ross MacKenzie: reviewed by Gillian Philip

Every town has at least one: that little row of shops that you barely even look at, that you almost forget about till you need a pint of milk late on a Monday. You always think of them behind a haze of grey drizzle – so imagine if you were driving by one day and one of those shops, though built of midnight-black bricks, was suddenly glittering and sparkling in the light. What's more, it's the one that wasn't there before. Because weren't there four shops there yesterday? So how come there are now five?

Ross MacKenzie has created a delicious and fantastical concept in his Nowhere Emporium, a shop that travels through space and time and (much like that other famous Time Machine) is a lot bigger on the inside. In fact, since it's powered by pure imagination, this particular store interior would appear to be limitless. 'Bring Your Imagination!' demands the invitation – presented in glittering fireworks in the sky above the shop – and that is the only price of admission: a little piece of each customer's imagination, and one that will eventually grow back. So where's the harm?

Daniel Holmes isn't sure. An orphan who stumbles upon the Emporium while being chased by bullies from the children's home, he is immediately entranced by both the shop and its owner, the mysterious Lucien Silver. When Silver offers him a job, he barely hesitates; there's no competition between a magical travelling emporium and his grim and loveless life in Glasgow.

All the same, he's the kind of boy who asks questions. Lucien Silver has taken him on (a little reluctantly) because Daniel clearly has gifts, among them a vivid and extensive imagination. So Daniel is dangerously curious about the potential of the shop – where a new room is created for every flight of imagination in a magical book – and about the price required to keep it in existence. Who is Lucien Silver running from? Why is he so afraid, he simply vanishes into thin air one day? And who is the girl who haunts the rooms of the Emporium like a ghost?

There's an abundance of mystery, excitement and magic as Daniel hunts for the answers. Any young hero worth his salt is going to make a few mistakes along the way, and Daniel's errors of judgement have quite terrifying consequences – but there's never any doubt he has the nerve and the determination to see the adventure through. Even when the Emporium itself becomes a crumbling, deadly trap...

In The Nowhere Emporium, Ross MacKenzie provides everything it takes to keep a young reader enthralled – magic, mystery, an intrepid hero, his colourful allies, and – best of all – a chilling and lethal villain. A magnificent cover by Manuel Sumberac is bound to entice the reader: once you're through that cut-out entrance, as with the magical gates of the Emporium itself, there are wonders enough to fire any imagination.

I can't help giving that ordinary little arcade of shops a second glance on my way home, though. After all, it's not as if I'd remember...


The Nowhere Emporium by Ross MacKenzie; Kelpies, £6.99

www.gillianphilip.com



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DARKMOUTH by Shane Hegarty: reviewed by Gillian Philip

He's a young apprentice in a world of dark magic, he's destined to battle world-threatening monsters, and he's not very good at it.

It's a tale-as-old-as-time, and that's as it should be. One of my favourite things in this world (and all the others) is reworked legends, and Shane Hegarty's twist on the fabulous creatures of myth is as quirky and smart and funny as you could wish.

Finn (who doesn't have a surname – yet) lives in the Blighted Village of Darkmouth, where he and his father - Hugo the Great – are just about tolerated by the inhabitants. The village itself is a kind of nightmare combination of insular rural small-town and Buffy's Sunnydale; people with any sense can't wait to leave, and that includes the local police sergeant.

For many generations, Finn's family of Legend Hunters has protected Darkmouth and the world beyond it from the monsters – the Legends – who have a habit of slipping through the barrier between the worlds. An occasional car or boat might get crushed, but the locals can live with that so long as the minotaurs, basilisks and manticores are stopped in their tracks.

Luckily, Dad Hugo is enormously good at his job: he's practically a legend himself. This is galling for poor Finn, who has to live with the stories of his father's prowess (usually told by his father) while being thoroughly incompetent himself. All Finn wants, really, is to leave Darkmouth and become a vet. He's a sweet, clumsy but very brave young hero, and enormously relatable for any young reader.

Not only is Finn expected to graduate to full-fledged Legend Hunter like yesterday; he discovers that his father will shortly be promoted to the governing body of their order, and will be leaving Darkmouth under Finn's sole protection. Of course this has to happen just as a major Legend incursion is threatened. And Finn has to deal not just with that, but with bullies, school, and intriguing newcomer Emmie – who seems to know more about Darkmouth than she's letting on.

Hegarty sets a cracking pace, but the increasing tension and the sometimes brutal scares are nicely offset by a dry and punchy humour. Stunning illustrations by James de la Rue are a gorgeous and atmospheric enhancement to the story. It's the first book in a series, and it ends on something of a cliffhanger – but not without some satisfactory resolution to the first episode.

Any child who loved Beast Quest will be thrilled to graduate to this dark, funny and complex tale of monsters and mayhem; it will enchant lovers of myth, legend and a rattling good story. I gulped it down – appropriately enough – in a single bite.


Darkmouth by Shane Hegarty: Harper Collins £6.99

www.gillianphilip.com

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THE FEW by Cathy McSporran; reviewed by Gillian Philip

It's a little known fact (and new to me) that Winston Churchill was a bit of an occultist who consulted mediums and considered himself psychic. His belief in witches – and the rumour that he consulted them during the war – was the spark for Cathy McSporran's first Young Adult novel, The Few.

Maggie, the heroine of the story, is working with the Women's Land Army in the south of England – not just to help with the war effort, but to help her deal with her grief: Maggie and her younger brother witnessed their father's death at Dunkirk, in an incident that also uncovered the pair's latent supernatural talents. Maggie and Colin are soon recruited into a coven of young witches working for the British government; taken to London, they discover that their most dangerous enemies are a group of German teenagers with powers that mirror their own. These Gothi become even more lethal when one of their number succeeds in channelling the ancient Aryan goddess Freya.

Much of the story takes place under the (sometimes literal) shadow of the Battle of Britain, so the supernatural storyline is complemented by some thrilling air battles, as well as a touching romance between Maggie and one of the Spitfire pilots, Michal.

McSporran effectively weaves together history, real and fictional characters, and the mythologies of Northern Europe to create a spellbinding story that rarely lets up its pace. The tangled web of relationships – encompassing betrayal as well as fierce loyalty and dedication – feels real, and packs a considerable emotional punch by the conclusion. The Few is the first book in a series, and succeeds in giving the reader both a satisfying ending and an enticing hint of more adventures to come.

It can be a tough call to blend real history with mythic fantasy, but McSporran pulls it off with flair. The book itself isn't well served by its cover, but if you look beyond that you'll find a ripping fantasy that combines high-stakes world peril with emotional strength and subtlety.


The Few by Cathy McSporran; published by Freight Books RRP £8.99

www.gillianphilip.com




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FOXCRAFT: The Taken, by Inbali Iserles; reviewed by Gillian Philip (plus giveaway!)

“It was always hardest for Fox.” Siffrin, emissary of the fox Elders, tells us so in this enchanting, gripping animal fantasy by Inbali Iserles, the first of a series. “To live free among the furless?” he goes on. “To hunt our prey without being seen? To elude our enemies as they circled us? It is Foxcraft that saved us.”  

Inbali Iserles (one of the Erin Hunter team who writes Survivors) has created a stunning animal world that ranges from the Snowlands to the Wildlands to the Greylands and beyond; it’s one that we see in all its beauty, grimness and terror through the eyes of young Isla, a not-quite-full-grown cub who is torn from her family as the story begins. Or rather, her family – Fa, Ma, Greatma and brother Pirie - is wrenched from her, in an act of terrible violence. By chance, Isla herself escapes, but she sees enough to know that the vicious attackers who destroy her world are foxes, too. The mystery is why they would do such a thing; and Iserles is skilful in giving Isla (and the reader) sinister glimpses of the answer. The hints at a dark-hearted Mage and a secret society of Elder foxes made me hungry to know more.

Of course Isla sets out to find her lost family; and her quest through the dirty, menacing streets of the Greylands – the ‘Great Snarl’, the city of the furless – is one that will call on all her courage, cunning and determination.

Luckily for a young and inexperienced fox, those are not all she has going for her. Siffrin is an enigmatic young stranger who claims to be a friend – but has he come to help her or betray her? Perhaps he simply doesn’t care, because Isla is no more than a means to an end… But what Siffrin does give the frightened youngster is a lesson in foxcraft: an ancient magic that feels profoundly real, and rooted deep in the natural world. If you’ve ever caught a glimpse of a fox, urban or rural, only to blink as it apparently vanishes in shadow, you’ll find foxcraft an all-too-believable kind of magic. 

Iserles has mined a rich vein of folklore to bring us foxes that can blend into thin air, that can mimic the calls of other creatures, that can even shapeshift. There may be other sons and daughters of Canista – dogs that are slaves to the furless humans, and savage wolves that howl and hunt in packs – but foxes are the most enigmatic: wise in foxlore, answering to no creature, standing alone, yet fiercely loyal to family.

The close fox’s-eye view of the narrative brings the reader right into Isla’s skin, feeling her joys as well as her fears. She’s an instantly engaging narrator, and her terror in the city is lightened by her flashbacks to a more innocent, happy cubhood. The supporting cast, from loving brother to vicious assassin, from empty-eyed hench-fox to a terrifyingly cynical and cold-eyed wolf, are drawn with the keen and perceptive eye of a true animal lover. The eponymous Taken – foxes who have had their will stolen by the mysterious Mage – are an enemy to chill the spine, but they can still prick your sympathy gland. Handsome Siffrin became an instant favourite of mine: he’s a combination of arrogance, charisma and clouded motivations who reminded me of Haku in the Hayao Miyazaki movie Spirited Away.

Clearly Inbali Iserles is absurdly talented, because the delightful drawings at each chapter head are her own. She has created haunting characters, a thoroughly exciting quest story and an enticing mystery. And she has combined those with descriptive writing that can raise the hairs on the back of your neck – whether you’re walking with Isla through the fresh wildness of parks, slinking down the city’s gritty, stinking alleys, or dashing with her, panicked, across its mangler-infested deathways.

“Dreams are the beginning,” Isla reminds us, as this part of the story ends. I am delighted that’s as far as they take us. I’m looking forward very much to whatever those dreams are going to bring us next. 

Thanks to the generosity of Scholastic, Awfully Big Reviews has three advance proof copies to give away! Just comment below, and three winners will be chosen at random. Results to be announced here on 1st September.

FOXCRAFT: The Taken by Inbali Iserles 

To be published by Scholastic on 1st October 2015; £5.99

www.gillianphilip.com

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The Islands of Chaldea by Diana Wynne Jones & Ursula Jones; reviewed by Gillian Philip

We’ll never know how it should have ended. At least, we’ll never know how it would have ended, had Diana Wynne Jones not died before completing her last novel. We don’t even know where she stopped writing, because the book doesn’t tell us; we only know that somewhere along the journey, Diana’s sister Ursula took over the story and completed it. When she first read to the end of the existing manuscript: “It was a shock,” says Ursula Jones in her Afterword. “It was like being woken from sleepwalking or nearly running off the edge of a cliff.” But taking as her launch point a clue she spotted in the manuscript, and with her understanding of her sister’s style and writing process, Ursula caught the apprentice Wise Woman Aileen and her friends before they fell, and carried them along to the end of their adventure.

When we meet Aileen, it’s the morning after her abject failure in her initiation as a Wise Woman, and she’s being comforted by her Aunt Beck, a full-fledged Wise Woman (and one Scots would call a nippy sweetie). She’s not unkind, though (well, not deliberately), and her no-nonsense attitude chivvies Aileen along into both adventure and a discovery of her true abilities.

I have no idea, and neither does anyone other reviewer I’ve read, where Ursula Jones took over the story. To me it was a seamless adventure with everything a reader could wish for in a fantasy: quests, danger, transformations and impossible obstacles; quirky friends and loathsome enemies and plenty of human frailty in between. As Aileen travels from her home in Skarr to the isolated kingdom of Logra - via the islands of Bernica and Gallis - she accumulates the kind of friends that every fantasy heroine should have, not all of them human (the best of them is the magically elusive cat, Plug-Ugly). And of course, just as it should be, the stern wisdom and acerbic guidance of Aunt Beck is lost to Aileen through a wicked spell; it’s down to the failed young Wise Woman to save the day and break the spells that bind not only her aunt, but the whole kingdom of Logra.

It’s never openly stated but the four islands are very much inspired by the four nations of the British Isles, with Skarr loosely based on Scotland, Bernica on Ireland, Gallis on Wales, and Logra on England. The languages, the peoples and even the living emblems of each island are reminiscent of the respective countries; it’s a rather lovely concept in the islands' links that might soon have an elegiac tone.

Even as you read, there’s a sense of sadness that this was Diana Wynne Jones’s last book. But it’s a lovely coda to a wonderful body of work. I’m just glad Ursula Jones seems to have shared such a telepathic empathy with her sister.

The Islands of Chaldea by Diana Wynne Jones (completed by Ursula Jones) (Harper Collins, £12.99 hb)

www.gillianphilip.com

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VERDIGRIS DEEP by Frances Hardinge: reviewed by Gillian Philip

So Frances Hardinge has the coolest style, especially when it comes to hats and gorgeous long coats. I was at the Fantasy WorldCon in Brighton last year when I met her. The convention happened to take place over the Halloween weekend, and Frances was laughing when she turned up one evening, because someone on the street had congratulated her on her Halloween costume. When she wasn't actually wearing one.

Hmm. I don't know; I think there's some kind of sorcery on the simmer here. Verdigris Deep was her second novel, and I picked it almost at random from her Amazon page because I was intrigued by the blurb: One evening, Ryan and his friends steal some coins from a well... Then the well witch appears, with her fountains for eyes and gargled demands. From now on the children must serve her – and the wishes rotting at the bottom of her well.

If you think it sounds as much like horror as fantasy, you'd be right, and yet there are moments of sinister comedy. Who'd have thought shopping trolleys could be sentient creatures of dread and terror? I was completely convinced, and I'll never pass the Tesco trolley stacks again without looking at them askance and wondering if they're watching me.

The witch at the bottom of the well is herself an extraordinary creation, seen initially in Ryan's visions after the three children steal her coins to pay for bus fare. She is introduced stealthily but horrifically: via Ryan's reflection in his own bathroom mirror, or in the eyes of a smiling model on an advertising hoarding. When the witch's true nature is at last revealed, there's something tragic about it despite the horror. She's doing what she was always meant to do, after all; but three twenty-first century children can't possibly have known just how deep a simple wish can go.

Ryan is the terrified, ultimately brave young hero, but his friends Josh and Chelle are if anything even more complex and engaging. All of them go through more changes than the reader expects, and they do so through challenges that are far deeper, darker and more twisted than they (or the reader) could foresee. Their happy expectations of being wish-granting Angels are gradually destroyed by the true natures of the wishes and the people who make them – and, of course, their own. Their peril lies as much within themselves as in the supernatural forces around them.

I never felt confident of a fully happy ending, and I feared most of all for Josh, who begins the story as the arrogant, charismatic leader of their small gang but falls apart, morally and psychologically, with every chapter. That genuine uncertainty is not too common in children's fiction, and it kept me reading into the small hours. (And no, I'm not going to tell you.)

It's a dark, intricate tale of fantastical but convincing danger, and it's written with stylish beauty, too. It's mysterious magic, is what it is.


Verdigris Deep by Frances Hardinge (Macmillan Children's Books, 2007), £6.99

www.gillianphilip.com




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THE SILK SISTERS: PINK CHAMELEON by Fiona Dunbar; reviewed by Gillian Philip

There's something especially exciting about diving into a book when you really don't have a clue what awaits. I knew that Fiona Dunbar's Silk Sisters trilogy had a fashion element and that it was futuristic, but that was pretty much it. I was expecting quite a 'girly' story, what with the pink cover and the fashion theme, but what I got was something else entirely. The running girls are more of a clue, because this is a fast-paced adventure that never entirely lets up.

Rorie is a wonderful heroine. She and her little sister Elsie (who is something of a loose cannon, but a very entertaining one) have a near-ideal life until one day, their inventor parents vanish on the way to a business meeting. Taken in by their foul uncle and aunt – who make the Dursleys of Privet Drive look like models of foster parenting – they have to survive the boarding school rigours of the horribly named Poker Bute Hall, escape their relatives' dastardly clutches (for Uncle Harris and Aunt Irmine have Ulterior Motives), and discover the truth about their mother and father. And since it's a trilogy, that's never all going to happen in the first book.

What I love about the futuristic aspect of this story is the assumption that the reader is in on the details. This isn't a story full of spaceships and aliens - it's a future world you can imagine happening tomorrow, with digitalised clothing, intelligent SatNavs, 'shels' (the new cellphones) and 'slants' - the new and better version of jeans that were developed for use in mines on Mars. It all seems so very close and next-week-real, and if anything it makes the story seem more contemporary than sci-fi. That leaves the reader free to enjoy the ride as Rorie and Elsie make their escape attempts, and to wonder and fret about the awful hidden secrets of Poker Bute Hall. Because it seems there is something very, very dark going on, something that's even worse than the strict regimen of housework, cataloguing classes and hammerball...

The good news is, the Silk sisters have allies, too, very appealing characters in their own right. And the good guys' chances look up when there's an accident involving a chameleon and a lightning bolt....

There are two more books in the trilogy, Blue Gene Baby and Tiger Lily Gold, and I really am waiting with bated breath to read them. Pink Chameleon has everything a 9-12 year old reader could want – adventure, danger, technology and super powers – and please, if you know a boy who likes any of those, just wrap the book in blue paper and persuade him to read it. This is not a book the girls should be allowed to keep for themselves.


PINK CHAMELEON (The Silk Sisters Trilogy) by Fiona Dunbar (Orchard Books 2007)

www.gillianphilip.com





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SALVAGE by Keren David; reviewed by Gillian Philip

Salvage comes with an alarming tagline: Not everything that’s broken can be mended. Maybe that’s what gave me a mounting sense of dread as the paths of Cass and Aidan and their bewilderingly extended families converged. Not that the tagline is the only arresting thing on the very striking cover: there’s the tattoo on the back of Aidan’s neck, the single word Hope. It’s an ineradicable symbol that begins, at one point in the story, to look like a terrible joke.

Cass and Aidan are sister and brother, separated not at birth but when they were four and six respectively. She has no memory of her birth family; he remembers too much. They’ve had upbringings as different from one another as it’s possible to imagine: she’s now the high-achieving, Oxford-bound daughter of an MP, he’s the product of a care system that has failed him – and a product is what he seems to feel like, as much as the damaged goods on sale at the salvage shop where he works. By a chance of fate and Facebook the siblings find one another, twelve years after they were separated, and arrange a meeting that will have desperately frightening consequences for them and everyone around them.

Two voices tell the story, and they’re masterfully done. Aidan is one of those characters who could so easily lose the reader’s sympathy, but Keren David has previous when it comes to damaged young men (see When I Was Joe and its sequels) and she unfolds Aidan’s complex, terrible story with subtlety and grace. She has said in this interview that she found Cass harder to write, because the girl has so little self-awareness. Is there anything more frustrating than a character so pathologically self-contained she won’t even talk to her author? (I speak from some experience, *cough*.) Well, however David managed it in the end, it works beautifully. Cass might do her damnedest to alienate the reader, but in the end she’s too human to succeed. By the halfway point I wanted the best of everything for them both, and there are no guarantees they’ll get it.

It’s not unknown for nuanced main characters to be let down by a touch of cardboard in the supporting cast. No worries here. It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book where I can picture the characters so clearly, and hear their voices. For me that doesn’t come with physical description, but by that mystical process where they’re just there, suddenly, in the movie in your head. I’d single out Will and Ben as particular delights; Will’s relationship with Cass is lovely. (Cass’s father, by the way, looks like Rupert Graves. Take my word for it.) I confess, I had a tremor of doubt in the opening pages, which bring us a situation that’s almost a cliche of our times. Uh-oh, I thought: plot thread, please don’t play out like I fear you will … Oh, silly me. I shouldn’t have worried. Of course Keren David doesn’t develop a cliched situation in a cliched way.

Not everything that’s broken can be mended. True. But I’m not going to give the slightest spoilers about what does and doesn’t get fixed in this story. If you want to know – and you will – go on, read it. 

SALVAGE by Keren David: published by Atom Books

www.gillianphilip.com

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The Sea Change & Other Stories by Helen Grant: reviewed by Gillian Philip

Honestly, that Helen Grant looks such a sweet girl. I'd like to say that The Sea Change is a delight, but of course that wouldn't be the right word. Creepy, menacing and addictive: those would be more appropriate.

I was never a fan of ghost stories as a child, because I was too much of a coward for them. I'd read them with the lights on, at noon, but I'd always regret it when the sun went down and the house started to creak. Nowadays I like to think I'm way too big and tough and cynical to be frightened by stories, but there's a certain kind of tale that can slink under your skin in a very unnerving way, no matter how grown-up you think you are. Michelle Paver's Dark Matter is one of them, and this collection is another.

This effect starts right out of the gate with Grauer Hans, a story inspired by a German folk tale of Santa Claus's less benevolent sidekick. He, it seems, is the one who deals with the naughty children, and Helen Grant presents him as a sweet, apple-cheeked little man to whom any young child would be happy to open the window. And Grant's protagonist would love to invite him in, if only her mother did not lull her to sleep with an old song each night. His friendly scratching on the window is the aural equivalent of Michelle Paver's wooden post; parents, this is a reminder never to forget the songs your own mother taught you.

All the stories have this same slow-burn, understated menace that grows quietly at the back of your mind. A scuba diver becomes so obsessed with an old wreck, he begins to disregard that immutable rule of never diving without a buddy. A pair of climbers, too young and brash to heed local superstition, decide to tackle a local crag with a bad reputation. A man goes to Slovakia in search of his vanished brother, and finds a lonely abandoned calvary and a very eerie painting. In many of the stories, the landscape itself is a part of the threat, and since you can't fight or escape the Earth itself, the terror seems all the more inescapable. I turned the pages with a mounting sense of dread each time, and I was never disappointed (and never reassured, either).

Helen Grant even completes an unfinished MR James story, The Game of Bear – a work that won her a competition in the MR James Ghosts and Scholars Newsletter and has the blessing of the James estate. In her notes to that story, she mentions the 'tinge of wrongness' that make MR James's inventions so frightening. That's a very good way of describing the horrors that haunt Grant's own creations here.

It's a truism that the most frightening stories never show you the horror, but let it fester in your imagination until it's worse than anything explicit. The Sea Change & Other Stories is so true to that, I started to worry about my creaking house all over again.

The stories in The Sea Change first appeared in various magazines and journals and have now been published in a limited edition by Swan River Press. It might be sadly difficult to get hold of a new copy – and the used ones on Amazon are pricey – but the collection is well worth tracking down if you can. It would also be well worth a second edition. Hint hint, Swan Press. And if you can't find The Sea Change, you can console yourself with Helen Grant's equally disturbing and frightening novels The Vanishing of Katharina Linden, The Glass Demon and Wish Me Dead.

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THE WEIGHT OF SOULS by Bryony Pearce: reviewed by Gillian Philip

Bryony Pearce does a very good line in unstraightforward heroines. Her debut novel Angel's Fury featured the anything-but-easy Cassie Farrier, a tormented and difficult teen making what she could of a bad deal in life (and not always well); this of course is exactly what a lot of teenagers can relate to even when their lives aren't complicated by family curses, unfortunate bloodlines and tetchy gods. Pearce has pulled off the same success with Taylor Oh, the thoroughly imperfect heroine of The Weight of Souls.

Every teenager knows that there are things in life more important than school, homework or your parents' opinions. Taylor's problem is that having inherited a curse down her mother's bloodline, she's fated to avenge murder victims; this would be stressful enough in itself, but if Taylor ever fails to pass on the Mark (a kind of infectious Black Spot) within a certain time limit, the Darkness that's meant to swallow the murderer will come for her instead. (I've got three deadlines at the moment and I knew how Taylor felt.)

The book is interspersed with entries from The Diary of Oh Fah, the journal of the tomb-raiding ancestor who managed to inflict this fate on his own firstborn and every generation since. Oh Fah was the only survivor of an archaeological expedition that ended badly for everyone. What's more, Oh Fah only got away with it because the god Anubis was in need of a weapon in the mortal world. The curse seems to be all about divine vengeance; but never try to second-guess a god, because there may be mixed motives involved. This is the second time Pearce has made terrific use of mythology (Egyptian this time), in a modern context but without sacrificing any of the ancient horror.

Anyway, Oh Fah is not the most sympathetic character, but he's downright adorable next to some of the men in the story. I've got to say it: I wanted to slap Taylor's father, hard and regularly. Left in a wheelchair by the same accident that killed Taylor's mother – an accident directly related to the family curse – he spends his life bull-headedly denying said curse, telling his daughter she's mentally ill (and so was her mother before her), drawing blood from the girl's bruised arm, and taking everyone's side but hers. It's no wonder Taylor is a snippy verbal match for the bullies who torment her at school; her father's worse. It may be realistic parenting, and he may be showing his love in the only way he knows how, but really. *SLAP*

There comes a point, however, when the bullies do cause Taylor more harm than her father. And it starts when the worst of them, Justin Hargreaves, turns up at school dead. Unintentionally he passes the Mark to Taylor, which causes worse problems than usual... because Justin insists he wasn't murdered. It's at this point that the story spirals into an absolutely nail-biting tale of lies, peer pressure, and Truth Or Dare.

There's a lovely sinister heartbeat running through the book, and it belongs more to the malevolent V Club than it does to the god Anubis. The dares Taylor has to go through at the Club's bidding – because it's her only way of getting to the truth about Justin's death – are heartstopping, and I caught myself reading much farther into the night than I should have. Gripping too was the developing relationship between Taylor and the dead Justin. I do like an antihero, but I liked this one a lot. I grew very fond as well of Hannah, Taylor's long-suffering BF-possibly-not-F (though her ex-friend Pete was another slap-magnet. Really, the men don't come out of this very well).

The Weight Of Souls ends on a satisfying climax, but it hints very strongly at a follow-up. Taylor has tried never to wonder what exactly happens to the souls who are engulfed by the Darkness, but... oh, that would be spoilers. Go and read it. I'll certainly be reading the sequel.*

The Weight of Souls by Bryony Pearce; Strange Chemistry £7.99

www.gillianphilip.com

*(Tell me there's a sequel?)








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Vampire Dawn by Anne Rooney: reviewed by Gillian Philip

Real Vampires - as the ageless Spike would tell you in many a fetching internet meme - Don't Sparkle. Anne Rooney's don't, that's for sure. Nor do they disappoint.

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The Vampire Dawn saga is a cleverly constructed series of short novels in the hi-lo style, ideal for the reluctant reader but no small fun for the enthusiastic one, either. The stories are compact and bijou - ideal for devouring on a bus journey to school, say - but packed with incident and character, not to mention blood and guts. If you know a teen or a slightly-pre-teen who isn't particularly keen on romance but likes a decent bloodsucker, point them in the direction of Vampire Dawn.

The books are readable in any order, but it would undoubtedly help to start with Die Now Or Live Forever. The whole story begins here - in the fine tradition of horror movies, with a group of mildly bickering friends on a hike in the woods. In this case it's the Hungarian woods, which seem to be populated by especially big and Hungary mosquitoes (boom boom).

This is the lonely spot where Juliette, Omar, Finn, Ruby and Alistair stumble across a dead body that doesn't stay dead for long. They also run into the (temporary) murderer: a downright panicky Australian called Ava, who doesn't understand why she's just had to stick a tent peg through the heart of her beloved boyfriend.

And in the morning the appeal of sandwiches and ginger beer seems mysteriously to fade, and the group begins to look peckishly upon the bewildered Ava...

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The other books in the Vampire Dawn series focus on each individual member of the group, and what happens to them in the aftermath of their ill-fated camping trip: Juliette (Drop Dead, Gorgeous), Finn (Life Sucks), Omar (Every Drop Of Your Blood), Alistair and Ruby (Dead On Arrival) and Ava herself (In Cold Blood). Pretty much at random I chose Ava's story: some time after the events of Die Now Or Live Forever, the bewildered Australian girl is stumbling around Kosovo in a borrowed fur coat, with no memory of how she got there. All she knows is that she's hungry, and that she doesn't feel as jittery around a creepy and dilapidated circus as she normally would. In fact it could be a source of raw meat of several kinds...

Given the tightly restricted word count of each book (around 6,000?), the various characters and their relationships are briskly and efficiently drawn. Alistair, my particular favourite, is an OCD boy who likes to count things.

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For the teen who's especially keen on traditional vampires, there's even a guide book: Bloodsucking For Beginners. Like the mysterious Ignace, a handsome stranger who seems to have strolled into the group's lives out of a 1930s black-and-white horror movie, it's full of advice for perplexed immortal newbies...

These books are terrific fun, and they're a great, snappy read. I adore the device of giving a book to every character, and Anne Rooney (who apparently doesn't eat meat in case she gets too much of a taste for blood) has clearly had a lot of fun with the genre's tropes and traditions. Yet she never loses respect for the primal, terrifying ferocity of vampires. There's romance and teen angst here, and the delights and agonies of friendship, but there's plenty of blood too - just as there should be.

I can't imagine many teens who wouldn't love a brief trip to the world of Vampire Dawn. I had a great time. (Also, the covers are fabulous.)


Die Now Or Live Forever
Dead on Arrival
Life Sucks
Every Drop Of Your Blood
Drop Dead, Gorgeous
In Cold Blood
Bloodsucking For Beginners

By Anne Rooney; published by Ransom Publishing, April 2012

I mean, that guy's scary. He just IS.

www. gillianphilip.com

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