'I said you had a lot to learn,' said Carbonel cooly. 'Sit still and I will try to explain. In the first place you thought you had bought a common wit'I said you had a lot to learn,' said Carbonel cooly. 'Sit still and I will try to explain. In the first place you thought you had bought a common witch's cat. Mind you, I'm not blaming you. A very natural mistake. You were not to know that I am a Royal Cat."
School has just broken up for the summer holidays and Rosemary Brown is 'fizzing' with a 'delightful party feeling,' even though she doesn't have much planned for the summer. Her widowed mother has to work, and there is not enough money for outings or treats. When Rosemary decides on a scheme to make some pocket money by house cleaning, she ends up buying a dusty old broom in the market. A cat gets thrown into the bargain. The cat is not a mongrel, though: it turns out to be Carbonel, a Royal Cat with a tart tongue and an imperious attitude. For seven years, Carbonel has been held by a binding spell, and it's up to Rosemary to set Carbonel free. All she has to do is unite the witch's hat and cauldron with her broom, and then figure out how to reverse the spell.
Rosemary is an appealing heroine - brave and resourceful, and polite. I wasn't a bit surprised to discover that this book was first published in 1955, because it definitely has a post-war atmosphere and vocabulary. The word 'jolly' features quite a lot, and there are plenty of splendid teas to punctuate the adventures. A sweet book - and a good choice for readers who fancy a bit of magic and/or enjoy the midcentury British flavour.
I really admire Rundell's way with words - I highly rate several of her chapter books for middle grade readers - but in this Christmas picture book, EI really admire Rundell's way with words - I highly rate several of her chapter books for middle grade readers - but in this Christmas picture book, Emily Sutton's beautiful illustrations (so colourful, so expressive) are actually the stand-out feature.
The magical aspect of this book are Christmas decorations which become animated on Christmas Eve. It's a slight twist on the well-established convention of having toys come to life. As in most children's stories, the toys come to life in order to assuage the loneliness of a child.
The modern aspect of the book involves working parents and a babysitter who falls asleep while staring into her mobile phone. If you buy into the premise that Theo has been left alone on Christmas Eve, then you should have no problem enjoying his unexpected adventure. There is perhaps a slight lack of connectedness, and logic actually, in the storyline, but I think most children will just enjoy the illustrations and not bother too much about that.
I don't think it's destined to be a classic, but it's appealing enough. ...more
Maggie darted about like a black-stockinged bird, in search of wood for the fireplace. She and her grandmother lived at the edge of a lone3.5 stars
Maggie darted about like a black-stockinged bird, in search of wood for the fireplace. She and her grandmother lived at the edge of a lonely cranberry bog in New England, and the winds were cold at the edge of the sea.
The opening paragraph to this beloved picture book is strongly atmospheric, as are the rich autumnal colours. Maggie lives with her grandmother in an appealing old-fashioned house, all shingles and wooden beams and a huge stone fireplace. The fireplace is the hiding place of Grandmother's prized cranberry bread recipe - the 'treasure' in the story.
Like the original Thanksgiving story, this one takes place in New England and centers around hospitality and sharing a celebratory meal with one's friends. In this case, there is a bit of confusion about who one's true friends are. As is appropriate in a children's story, the child Maggie has better instincts for what makes a good friend.
There's a bit of a mystery, a bit of a surprise, and a rogue element to the story - in the shape of one Mr. Whiskers. I can see why this picture book has been a firm favourite with children for 50 years. ...more
No pesky mess of grasshoppers can beat us! We’ll do something! You’ll see! We’ll get along somehow.
This was the most iconic and memorable ‘Little
No pesky mess of grasshoppers can beat us! We’ll do something! You’ll see! We’ll get along somehow.
This was the most iconic and memorable ‘Little House’ book of my childhood. Perhaps that has something to do with the overlap with the popular 1970s/80s television series. In this book, the Ingalls family settles in Walnut Grove, Minnesota and for the first time Laura and Mary go to school and church. (There is a lot of emphasis on hair ribbons.) The spoiled little madam Nellie Olsen - whose father is a shopkeeper - becomes Laura’s nemesis in this book, and she provides an interesting foil for both Laura’s personality and the dawning understanding that Laura is a ‘country girl’, not to mention poor.
For the first time, there is a real contrast between farm life and town life - exemplified in the wonderfully detailed scene of Nellie’s party, and then the return hospitality of Laura’s party. Although the Ingalls family is aspirational, and has high standards, there is a real worry about money and the scarcity of necessities (especially shoes) in this book. There is the familiar ritual of house building - Pa converts their sod house into a proper house with ‘boughten’ wood and a stove - but even a child will feel the anxiety about how the family borrows against the future. The persistence of farmer debt - in other words, the tendency to borrow against a crop before it comes to fruition - becomes a theme in this book that will carry on throughout the rest of the series.
Although family life is still pre-eminent, particularly during the second half of the book which is marked by one disaster after another, there is far more ‘settlement’ and much less wild life and adventure than in the first two books. Indeed, the main source of ‘wild life’ are the horrible grasshoppers which ruin Charles Ingalls’ crops two years in a row. Those relentless grasshoppers, who strip the land of everything edible, are terrifying; far more frightening than the bear and panther of the earlier books.
Laura has a fierce pride and a hot temper and both come into play more and more in this book. She is also courageous, and that quality is also necessary as natural disasters come thick and fast. At the beginning of the book, Laura often gets into trouble of her own making; but in the second half of the book, her courage helps avert disaster. Charles Ingalls, ‘Pa’, is often missing in this novel and the loss of his strong presence is keenly felt by Laura. She often has to step into this gap and help out her mother.
Rereading this book was a vivid experience, partly because I had such a sense of dread about what is coming for the Ingalls family. In addition to old dangers like prairie fire, there are new ones - chiefly the grasshoppers, but also blizzards. Although many possible disasters are avoided, and the bonds of the family unit stay strong, there is way too much drama (some of it uncomfortably close) to make this a ‘cosy’ read. ...more
The wind sang a low, rustling song in the grass. Grasshoppers’ rasping quivered up from the immense prairie. A buzzing came faintly from all the tr
The wind sang a low, rustling song in the grass. Grasshoppers’ rasping quivered up from the immense prairie. A buzzing came faintly from all the trees in the creek bottoms. But all these sounds made a great, warm, happy silence. Laura had never seen a place she liked so much as this place.
The opening chapter to this children’s classic is titled ‘Going West’ and it chronicles the family’s journey, by covered wagon, all the way from Wisconsin to the ‘Indian country’ (modern Kansas and Oklahoma). The explanation for why the family is taking its chances in the unsettled West is that ‘there were too many people in the Big Woods now’. It’s such an American story: Manifest Destiny and fresh starts all rolled into one.
The book is narrated from the third-person point of view of Laura Ingalls, who is roughly 6 years old at the beginning of the family’s journey. Like her father - Charles Ingalls, or ‘Pa’ - Laura is totally game for this journey and truly alive to the beauty of the prairie landscape. As an adult reader, I was particularly attuned to the rapturous descriptions of the prairie - so sweet and clean and unspoiled. It is definitely portrayed as an Eden, with plenty of wild animals and space for everyone.
Some of the main themes of the series really start to emerge in the book - for instance, the family’s self-sufficiency. Although there are a few examples of neighbours helping out, Ma and Pa are depicted as being fully capable of taking care of their own little family. This is a book about ‘building’, too - and full of what Caroline Fraser, the author of Prairie Fires, calls the description of ‘process’. In this book, the narrator describes the following: how to build a house (walls, fireplace, roof, floor), make a bed, dig a well and shape a willow chair.
Pa and Laura love the wildness of this new land, while older sister Mary (always portrayed as a ‘good, obedient girl’ in comparison to naughtier, more curious Laura) and mother Caroline represent civilisation. Caroline, ‘Ma’, always insists on good manners and cleanliness, and is herself consistently portrayed as gentle, patient and kind. Ma’s ‘little china woman’ is itself a symbol of civilisation and is placed on a carved wooden shelf when the house is finally completed.
In the later books, most of the conflicts come from the challenges (natural and economic) of trying to make a living through farming. In this book, the central problem is that the land - which had seemed available to any settlers willing to ‘tame’ it - is already occupied by ‘Indians’ (named as the Osage tribe in the book). I couldn’t help but notice that the family’s split personality also divides on the subject of native Americans. Ma fears and resents them, while Pa and Laura are interested in them - even fascinated - and far more respectful of both their ways and their rights to the land. The book ends with the family’s retreat and a reverse journey back north, this time to Minnesota instead of Wisconsin.
In Caroline Fraser’s biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder, Prairie Fires, she notes that Charles Ingalls ‘never seemed to realize that his ambition for a profitable farm was irreconcilable with a love of untrammelled and unpopulated wilderness’. More than any of the other books, this one celebrates that wilderness . . . even as the family dedicate themselves to an attempt to civilise it. ...more
She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now i
She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
The last paragraph of this childhood favourite really struck me in its oddness and poignance. ‘She’ is Laura Ingalls, 4 or 5 years old, and the namesake of the 60 ish year old woman who was writing about some of the earliest memories of her childhood in 1870s Wisconsin from the vantage point of 1930s Missouri. The books ends as it has begun: with the preparations for winter. The family - Ma, Pa, older sister Mary, Laura and younger sister Carrie - are all ‘safe and cosy’ in their log cabin in the woods. Pa is playing and singing Auld Lang Syne on his fiddle.
The Ingalls family are such old acquaintances of mine that it’s hard to imagine reading this book without layers of memories. The first in the series, which ends with the ‘first four years’ of Laura’s marriage to Almanzo Wilder, this is by far the most juvenile and ‘cosiest’ of the books. The setting of the ‘big woods’ -with its ‘great, dark trees’ and ‘beyond them other trees’ - has a fairy tale quality to it, although it certainly does have its prosaic moments. One thing I had forgotten is that the book’s first chapter begins with hog butchering - a subject which the author takes some pains to describe. The threats to the family are fairy tale ones, though - bears and panthers - and overall there is the sense of nature’s plentitude and family happiness. It’s a life made of simple and seasonal pleasures, most of them associated with winter. The Garth Williams illustrations have such sweetness about them and are all mingled up in my childhood memories of the good times Laura and her sisters have making ‘pictures’ in the snow or making snow ‘ice cream’ with maple sugar.
Unlike the other books, there is extended family in this book: grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. When they gather for a dance and supper during maple sugaring time, this happy moment stands out as unusual in a series in which the Ingalls family is typically tightly knit and insular. Knowing what’s coming ahead for the family - all of those travels and tribulations - I wanted to call out a warning to Pa to not be so restless and just stay put. I wonder if the book’s author felt this as well?
For those readers entirely unfamiliar with the work of Rosemary Sutcliff, The Silver Branch is the second in a series called The Eagle of the Ninth. TFor those readers entirely unfamiliar with the work of Rosemary Sutcliff, The Silver Branch is the second in a series called The Eagle of the Ninth. The series begins with the book of that title and the other two books in the series are called Frontier Wolf and The Lantern Bearers. These four books - recently re-issued by Slightly Foxed in handsome hardcover editions - are set in England during the last years of Roman Britain. They are ostensibly for children, but they are aimed at the literary sweet spot (ages 12-14) where most children’s novels which win the Carnegie medal hit. (The Lantern Bearers won the Carnegie Medal in 1959 and the other books were short-listed for that prize.) Sutcliff said of her own work: “I would claim that my books are for children of all ages, from nine to ninety.”
I don’t think I would have enjoyed her books as a child, but my brother - who was obsessed with history, especially military history - would have loved them. I have minimal knowledge of Roman Britain, even now, so my experience of wading through my gaps of background knowledge was probably similar to that of your average 12 year old. Sutcliff does not ‘dumb down’ her books in any sense. She trusts her reader to follow her path; and by that, I mean that she doesn’t overly explain things. Like all of the 19th and 20th century classics, this book has the extensive vocabulary and sophisticated prose style which make the books wonderfully suitable for adult readers but probably a bit challenging for the age group for which they were intended. I would definitely recommend them for any older children or teenagers who have a keen interest in history.
The book is told from the limited third-person point of view, and the reader experiences the adventure through the character of Tiberius Lucius Justinianus - or ‘Justin’ as he is referred to by his friends. Justin is a junior surgeon, but he feels like he has let his father down by not following his footsteps into military command. He has a slight stammer; he’s not terribly brave or confident. In other words, he is an unlikely hero. In the first chapter ‘The Saxon Shore’, Justin arrives in Rutupiae (Sandwich, Kent) to take up his new posting in the Army Medical Corps. He meets a young Centurion called Marcellus Flavius Aquila and learns that they are kinsmen. The two young men, Justin and Flavius, will be joined together in their adventures for the rest of the book.
As Rome’s Empire crumbles, there is a jockeying for power in Britain - and this power struggle forms the main conflict of the book. Our two young heroes get sucked into the action when they overhear their Emperor’s chief staff officer collaborating with the Saxon enemy. I didn’t find the plot-line particularly captivating, but what I did enjoy was Sutcliff’s fluent writing style and her gift for characterisation. (The boys’ Aunt Honoria was my favourite character, but even the most minor characters were sketched with some detail and charm.) This book a huge departure from my usual reading taste, but I enjoyed it enough to want to continue with the series. Perhaps not immediately, but someday....more
I was a huge fan of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s stories as a child and I suspect that this Edwardian classic would have been a favourite, too; unfortunaI was a huge fan of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s stories as a child and I suspect that this Edwardian classic would have been a favourite, too; unfortunately I never read it. To read it now, in middle-age and with so many books under my belt, is a mixed pleasure. I still enjoyed it, and the ending raised a tear, but I don’t think a children’s book can ever be invested with the same kind of magic as it would have been if read at the appropriate age.
Roberta ‘Bobbie’ (12), Peter (10) and Phyllis (8?) are happy children with loving parents and a nice home . . . and then something mysterious happens and they are removed to a cottage in the countryside. They are suddenly “poor”, but even worse, their father has gone missing and they don’t know what has happened to him. Their mother, who had previously been devoted to teaching and playing games with them, is suddenly too busy to do much other than write endless stories - hoping to raise some meagre income.
You will think that they ought to have been very happy. And so they were, but they did not know how happy until the pretty life in Edgecombe Villa was over and done with, and they had to live a very different life indeed.
This simple kind of philosophy, which is true 100 years later - and basically just true of human nature - is one of the reasons that it is still pleasing to read Nesbit’s books. I suppose her books could seem moralistic to a more contemporary generation, but there is still much to admire about them. One of the things I liked about this book is the way the author creates a circumstance in which her three children have plenty of scope for freedom and adventure, but without killing off the parents or making them horrid. The other really lovely thing about ‘liberating’ the children from their middle-class neighbourhood is that it gives them scope to meet all sorts of people - not just in terms of age and class, but even nationality. (Nesbit manages to insert a Russian refugee into the plot.) There are quite a few heroic adventures in the book in which the children are able to demonstrate bravery, loyalty and ingenuity - but Nesbit is quite careful to avoid anything too sanctimonious or goody-goody. Peter and Phyllis, especially, keep the tone real with their lack of tact, clumsiness and other difficult and quarrelsome qualities. Bobbie is rather more angelic and sensitive character, and she is just the sort of heroine that I really loved as a child. One of Nesbit’s (fairly frequent) authorial intrusions has to do with Bobbie’s character: ”The more I observe her the more I love her.” I felt the same, and Bobbie - with her “loving kindness” and her sensitivity to her mother’s sorrows - is definitely the heart of the book.
I haven’t really mentioned the railroad bit. Without much in the way of diversion, the children discover the pleasure of watching for trains and, importantly, also make friends with several of the railroad staff and even with the “old gentleman” who waves to them everyday from his 9:15 train on the way to London. (This bit would probably seem more unlikely to a modern reader.) The railroad becomes key to their adventures, and it enables them to both give and receive. I don’t think trains have nearly the glamour that they had in the Edwardian age, but I would guess that even modern readers could imagine the three children’s delight in them. ...more
The first chapter of this book - titled “Chiefly Descriptive” - is such a joy. The narrator gives a little character sketch of each of the s3.5 stars
The first chapter of this book - titled “Chiefly Descriptive” - is such a joy. The narrator gives a little character sketch of each of the seven Woolcot children with this humorous preface: “Not one of the seven is really good, for the very excellent reason that Australian children never are.”
It may be that the miasmas of naughtiness develop best in the sunny brilliancy of our atmosphere. It may be that the land and the people are young-hearted together, and the children’s spirits not crushed and saddened by the shadow of long years’ sorrowful history.”
According to the Afterword, Seven Little Australians is considered to be the first proper ‘Australian’ children’s novel - and has never been out of print since first being published in 1894. Impressively, the author Ethel Turner was only 24 when she brought the Woolcot children of Misrule into being. I don’t know what her ‘models’ might have been (whether literary or real-life inspiration), but the characters do have loads of personality and definitely endear themselves to the reader. The novel still has such a fresh voice despite some Victorian anachronisms - mostly lots of whippings, and language, and attitudes.
I did find the ending unnecessarily (and upsettingly) melodramatic, and that affected my enjoyment (and rating) of the book. Overall, though, I’m so pleased that an Australian friend (Sandy of @bookendmylife) sent me a copy of this Australian classic. ...more
”Gay Street, as Jane always thought, did not live up to its name. It was, she felt certain, the most melancholy street in Toronto - although, to be su”Gay Street, as Jane always thought, did not live up to its name. It was, she felt certain, the most melancholy street in Toronto - although, to be sure, she had not seen a great many of the Toronto streets in her circumscribed comings and goings of eleven years.”
At the beginning of this book, Jane is a girl with two names: Victoria, after her grandmother, and Jane, the name she prefers for herself. She lives in a Victorian mansion at 60 Gay Street in Toronto, along with her beautiful young mother Robin and her domineering grandmother - who definitely rules the roost. Jane is a fatherless girl, but her father’s ‘low’ origins are frequently referred to. She is awkward and self-conscious, not to mention so lonely that that her best companion for a time is the dreaming moon. She feels out of place. She longs to be of use to someone, to be necessary.
When Jane learns that her father is still alive, she is deeply shaken; when that mysterious person sends a letter requesting that Jane spend the summer with him on Prince Edward Island, it completely alters her life. A summer spent making a home with her father changes her from a shy, unconfident girl to someone who knows her own worth - a person who can stand up to her tyrannical grandmother.
There are lots of strong personalities in this book - from Grandmother to Aunt Irene to Jane’s father - but it’s the transformation of Jane which is the real story. Jane doesn’t have the charm of Anne Shirley, or the intensity of Emily of New Moon, but she’s a kind girl who learns self-worth from doing things. “Can I help you?” is the keynote of her character, and by story’s end she has helped a number of people - including her romantic, feckless parents. ...more
It’s a complete mystery to me why I’ve read this classic children’s book, but I suppose better “late” than never.
Like Louisa May Alcott before her (iIt’s a complete mystery to me why I’ve read this classic children’s book, but I suppose better “late” than never.
Like Louisa May Alcott before her (in the immortal Little Women), Streatfeild brings together several different heroines for the reader to identify with. There is Pauline, blonde and blue-eyed, who wants to be an actress. Then Petrova, who has straight dark hair and narrow eyes, and is good at all sorts of mechanical things. Posy, the youngest, has a cloud of fluffy red hair; she arrives with a pair of ballet shoes, and is a gifted dancer. All three girls are orphans, and the first chapter of the book quickly establishes their “origin” story. Great-Uncle Matthew (thereafter referred to as a GUM) is an explorer and great fossil hunter. Through a series of incidents and accidents, he ends up adopting three baby girls: and Fossil becomes their last name. When GUM disappears off on his adventures, the girls end up being raised by his great-niece (Sylvia, nicknamed “Garnie”) and her formidable Nanny.
The fascinating bit for me was the setting of this book: London during the 1930s. Despite living in a huge house off the Gloucester Road, with a Cook and Maids and Nanny, the constant, nagging need of money is a backdrop to the storyline and provides the impetus for the girls’ need to start earning. Set during the worst years of the worldwide economic depression, the book combines aspiration and harder reality to very good effect. The girls attend a stage school, where they study acting, singing and dance, and as soon as they turn 12 they are able to get a special license and become “professionals”. The world of London theatre, pantomimes and even cinema becomes accessible through the plot line, and I’ve no doubt that most of the details were very true-to-life as Streatfeild herself went through RADA training. Clothes play a huge role in the story, and the characters are forever contriving and “making do” in order to keep up appearances.
Ambition, ingenuity, gumption and discipline are all major key notes in the storyline. All of the girls want to earn their keep, but they also want to excel - and to make their “Fossil” name special. It’s easy to understand why the book was a huge hit in 1936, the year it was published, and why it has continued to inspire and charm subsequent generations.
Note: I was finally inspired to read this book after reading Patrick Gale’s Take Nothing With You. He mentions Ballet Shoes in that book, and describes it as a “fairy godmother” to his own story....more
Author Eve Garnett uses the plot device of measles to neatly and humorously frame this book about the Ruggles family of One End Street. I loved the glAuthor Eve Garnett uses the plot device of measles to neatly and humorously frame this book about the Ruggles family of One End Street. I loved the glimpses into what life was like for a working class family in 1930s England, but juvenile readers will just enjoy the timelessness of the children’s experiences: being put in charge of younger siblings; the sartorial thrill of getting to be a bridesmaid; the simultaneous mixture of homesickness and excitement when being away from home for the first time, just to name a few examples. In her reading memoir Bookworm, Lucy Mangan writes about how beguiling it was for a ‘town child’ (like herself; like the Ruggles children) to visit and discover the English countryside at its summery best. The scenes at the Dew Drop Inn, where three of the Ruggles children go to recover from measles, were everything that is cosy and nostalgic about English life. Mangan thinks that this sequel is even more delightful than the first book of the series, and I would have to agree. ...more
I learned about Eve Garnett’s ‘Family from One End Street’ series from Lucy Mangan’s reading memoir titled Bookworm. As book-finder chance would have I learned about Eve Garnett’s ‘Family from One End Street’ series from Lucy Mangan’s reading memoir titled Bookworm. As book-finder chance would have it, not long after reading about these childhood favourites of Mangan’s - featuring the working class Ruggles family, with their seven children - I discovered this book (and its follow-up) in vintage 1970s Puffin editions at the Oxfam bookshop I volunteer at. These are the books that I should have been reading as a child: how I would have adored them, with their English style, dialect and setting. (Even as I child, I was a confirmed Anglophile.)
Author Eve Garnett won the 1937 Carnegie Medal for this book, and it’s easy to understand why. As Mangan points out, this was one of the first books to realistically, humorously and lovingly portray a decidedly ‘not’ posh (or even middle-class) family. Mother takes in washing, and father is a dustman who dreams of being able to afford to buy a pig. With seven children, shoes are an important and ever-present concern. (I remember my mother saying the same of her mother, who grew up in a large family during the Depression.). Somehow Eve Garnett has the balanced ‘trick’ of being authentic about the rough-and-tumble of family life, whilst still presenting a warm and loving family. Her characterisations are just detailed enough to be lively and precise, but children whose lives are very unlike the Ruggles will still find points of identification. Her illustrations are charming, too, although their nostalgic style may be likelier to appeal to middle-aged readers (like me). I don’t think this book could ever have that indefinable magic for me that it has for Lucy Mangan; you have to fall in love with a book as a child to truly feel that; but this is definitely the sort of classic which has kid and adult appeal both. ...more
This children's classic - one of the most beloved Carnegie Medal winners of all time - will probably be my last read of 2017. I read it, finally, becaThis children's classic - one of the most beloved Carnegie Medal winners of all time - will probably be my last read of 2017. I read it, finally, because Penelope Lively praised it so highly in her recent gardening memoir Life in the Garden. Lively considers it to be far superior to The Secret Garden, that other wonderful children's classic set in a garden. I don't know that I agree with her, but I will acknowledge that I fell in love with Burnett's novel as a child - and I think that can really make a difference. But part of what she objected to is the fact that the idea of a garden as a place for healing is too 'obviously loaded with meaning' in The Secret Garden. Although I don't agree with Lively on this point, I do like what she has to say about this book:
"But, above all, it is a narrative of great elegance, simply told, and leaving you with insights into the nature of time, and memory." (Penelope Lively)
There is a time-travel aspect to the storyline, but the 1950s setting of Tom will feel nearly as 'historical' to contemporary readers as the 1890s setting of Hatty. It does capture something very universal, though, about children's play, about imagination, about growing up, and about the mysteries of time.
Philip Pullman claims that 'the ending is the best in all children's fiction' and I have to agree that it is wholly satisfying - both because it ties up all of the thematic threads in an emotionally satisfying way and because it is a delightful surprise....more
I had never even heard of this book - first published in 1955 - but an attractive new edition from Puffin will make it very popular with the crowd (prI had never even heard of this book - first published in 1955 - but an attractive new edition from Puffin will make it very popular with the crowd (probably more adult readers than children) who loved Downton Abbey. It's the lightly fictionalised tale of author Mary Clive's (born Lady Mary Katharine Pakenham) Edwardian childhood in grand houses.
Evelyn is the 8 year old protagonist, and when her father is injured in Scotland, she is packed off with her Swiss nursery maid to Tamerlane Hall - where she joins the four Savage children and their cousins Glens and Howliboos for the Christmas holiday. Evelyn is an only child, and she acknowledges that this privileged position allows her more access to the drawing room than was usual for children her age; she notes that 'I believe visitors thought me spoilt and a bore'. In fact, the author was not Evelyn at all - but apparently one of the younger children in the raucous clan that the author describes as the 'Savages'. (There is some very interesting biographical information about the author at the end of the book.) The set-up of the book allows the reader to enjoy Evelyn's priggish desire to side with and please the grown-ups, whilst also joining in (with varying degrees of success) with the antics of the various children.
There are several distinct pleasures in this period piece. First of all, there are wonderful details in this upstairs/downstairs saga, and anyone interested in the Edwardian era will enjoy the glimpse into the fashions, traditions and mores of English life on a grand scale. The house itself is beautifully described, in all of its many nooks and crannies (grottos, attics and still-rooms). There are also some moments of universal recognition - particularly in the way that Christmas morning is described, with its intense, half-sick rapture of anticipation. There are some truly humorous moments in the book, too - and I laughed out loud several times at the set-piece of the children's theatrical, where Evelyn totally lets herself down in its creator Lionel's eyes. 'Stop smiling or I will kill you!' I particularly enjoyed the last third of the book, in which Evelyn really hits her stride - and the childish mischief-maker masters the prig in her personality.
I think that I would have loved this book as 12 year old, and I would certainly recommend it to the many Anglophile readers I know who appreciate the setting and manners of a bygone world. 3. 5 stars ...more
The Mary Poppins series was a firm favourite when I was a child, but I used to borrow the books from the library: I never owned them myself. My childrThe Mary Poppins series was a firm favourite when I was a child, but I used to borrow the books from the library: I never owned them myself. My children were fully exposed to the Disney DVDs, and I'm pretty sure they only knew Mary Poppins and the Bank family and the infamous Bert (as played by Dick van Dyke) from the film. Which is kind of a shame. Julie Andrews, even when playing 'stern', was much too rosy and kind to ever embody the Mary Poppins of the book.
Reading this book again, so many years later, I'm struck by several things: first of all, how quickly you enter into the world of the story. Just a few pages and the reader is introduced to Number Seventeen Cherry Lane and the Banks family - and then in comes Mary Poppins, on the East wind, with her seemingly empty carpet bag. Each chapter is an adventure and it just zips along. I love the contrast between the Edwardian English nursery and the topsy-turvey fantasy world. There is wonderful food in it - always important in a children's novel - including medicine which tastes of strawberry ice and lime cordial (rum punch is Mary's dose). There is also such a good sense of other worlds taking place alongside the 'real' world: where Mary and Bert can step into a picture, or one of the Pleiades can come down from the sky and buy Christmas shopping for all of her sisters, or animals can converse with people.
I hadn't forgotten what a spiky, acerbic, vain creature the Mary Poppins of Travers' books is, contrary to the more Disneyfied version. She's rarely kind to the children, at least in tone, although she involves them in fantastic adventures. She's arbitrary, hard to please, and she consistently denies the children's experiences: perhaps this says a lot about what the adult world seems like to children. I'm sorry that I didn't introduce my daughters to these books when they were the right age, but I hope I won't make the same mistake with the grandchildren....more
I liked Anne of Green Gables when I was a little girl, but I was always more of a Little House on the Prairie girl. Rereading this book - oh, at leastI liked Anne of Green Gables when I was a little girl, but I was always more of a Little House on the Prairie girl. Rereading this book - oh, at least 35 years after my first reading - was such a rich experience and it was interesting to compare my impressions of it from hazy memories of my childhood readings. Anne Shirley is surely one of the best-known heroines of the children's classics, and I think most people will identify her with those salient two qualities: being a redhead, and being 'spirited'. I also remembered Anne's penchant for getting into scrapes: accidentally getting her best friend Diana drunk, and dying her hair green instead of 'raven black' and cracking her slate over Gilbert Blythe's head when he calls her 'carrots'. What struck me, though, on this adult reading was her ability to feel things so deeply, her responsiveness to nature, and her transparent emotional nature.
I'm pretty sure, as a child, that I thought Marilla was a terrible old stick-in-the-mud, but her stern character and unexpectedly soft heart were really the perfect counterpart to ebullient Anne. And dear old Matthew Cuthbert - who Anne identifies straight off as a 'kindred spirit'? How can anyone help but love him, especially when he mildly (according to his character) but stubbornly always sticks up for Anne. I love it when Matthew 'thanked his stars' that he had nothing to do with 'bringing up' Anne, and could 'spoil' and 'appreciate' her as was his instinct and inclination.
What I had completely forgotten about this book is how much Anne grows and changes; and I had also completely forgotten the ending, which is interesting. In fact, the ending of this book makes me think that this is a children's book perhaps best understood and appreciated by adults. I was in tears so many times, particularly in moments when Marilla and Matthew expressed something of how much Anne had transformed their life for the better. One thing I do remember as a child is my frantic anxiety, my near terror, that her new guardians would send her back to the orphan's asylum. It's such a marvellous thing how a well-written story can still tug on those emotions, even when you are perfectly aware of how it's all going to turn out.
'Kindred spirits not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.'
Anne Shirley - with her 'scope of imagination' and her fierce loves - will always be a kindred spirit to many readers. The readers who love her are truly their own company of kindred spirits. ...more
"Oh, enough local colour. I'm boring myself. Frankly, if you've seen one sulphurous pit, hideous precipice and poisonous, hissing, foaming river you'v"Oh, enough local colour. I'm boring myself. Frankly, if you've seen one sulphurous pit, hideous precipice and poisonous, hissing, foaming river you've seen them all."
Francesca Simon is best known for her Horrid Henry stories, beloved by children who delight in naughty narrators and anti-sweetness. This foray into the younger side of YA (12-14) has a contemporary smart-ass tone, despite the setting and characters which are taken from Norse mythology. The protagonist is young Hel - a fourteen year old-ish girl who is the offspring of the god Loki and the giantess/seer Angrboda (distress-bringer). Born with the head and torso of a girl, but the legs of a corpse, Hel is not exactly beloved by the gods - or even her parents. Eventually she is exiled to the underworld: Hell, get it? Destined or doomed to rule, depending on your point-of-view. Hel would definitely say doomed, although she takes whatever perks she can get.
The dominant feature of the book is Hel's voice, which can be amusing in a very dark way. I have known some 12 year olds who would probably enjoy this style of humour. Unfortunately, there is just not enough plot to the book, and the voice, which dwells rather repetitively on Hel's various miseries, gets rather tiresome, too. The obvious comparison to this book would be Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series, which brought the Greek legends to life within a contemporary setting. This book has the various mythic references, but there is not much of anything - including, sadly, Hel - to make the reader invest in the story. It's a fast read, though, with short chapters and an overlarge font. I wouldn't recommend it to many readers myself, but it's been a big hit with the various awards committees this year - and appears on the UK YA 2017 shortlist, the 2017 CILIP Carnegie Medal list and the Costa Book Awards shortlist. ...more
A dear Australian friend recently gave me a copy of this book - the 2nd in the Melling sisters trilogy. Grace, Heather, Cathy and Vivienne are, perhapA dear Australian friend recently gave me a copy of this book - the 2nd in the Melling sisters trilogy. Grace, Heather, Cathy and Vivienne are, perhaps, the Australian equivalent of what Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy were to me growing up in the United States. Although the most obvious similarity between this book and Little Women has to do with the complicated relationships between four sisters, and the different roles they take on within their family, there are some other points of comparison, too. Both families struggle with poverty, and war is also in the background of both novels. In Little Women, it is the Civil War; while in Dresses of Red and Gold, it's World War II - over, but still keenly felt. The storylines also remind me very much of each other in the sense that the girls are constantly having to 'make do', and there is a strong focus on imagination and perseverance through hardship. Having said that, there is a noticeable difference in their tone: the Melling sisters are scrappy, funny, and certainly not overly bothered about improving their characters.
Each chapter reads like a self-contained short story, and one of the sisters is generally in focus. A few of the chapters also feature the girls' cousin Isobel - a drama queen and outrageous liar who nearly steals the show. The most endearing character, to me at least, was the youngest sister Vivienne. She is the gentlest and most kind-hearted, although she is not above ambition - for instance, in her intense desire to wear the beautiful bridesmaid's dress that has been designated to Cathy. Several of the most poignant, and humorous, vignettes involve her - my favourite being the 'act of luminous goodness' at the Show (the annual fair). There is a proper sense of the story's Australian setting - the small town of Wilgawa - but in terms of friendships and family relationships, the story is a universally relatable one. Truly a charming and warm-hearted read. ...more
Rereading this book, every word of which feels so familiar to me, was still a pleasure. Looking at Lois Lenski's illustrations - my favourites being tRereading this book, every word of which feels so familiar to me, was still a pleasure. Looking at Lois Lenski's illustrations - my favourites being the girls after they have cut off their hair - takes me straight back to my own childhood. If I ever have granddaughters, I expect that I will read it many more times! Even though the book is set in 1900, when the trio of best friends are 8 years old, so many of their childhood adventures have a timeless quality about them: building a 'play' house, making concoctions in the kitchen, exploring, fighting with their big sisters, and playacting. One of my favourite chapters features Betsy, Tacy and Tib trying to learn how to fly. When Betsy, last to attempt 'flying' off of a tree branch, chickens out and distracts the children by telling them a story, it is such a Betsy-ish thing to do. Those who are familiar with this beloved series, will recognise the beginning of Betsy's vivid imagination and storytelling prowess. ...more
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