The Top Secret Diary of Pig

A momentous day for the Little Wooden Horse. It's time to let the fellow reviewers TAKE OVER. A bit anyway. Here's Bill's very first, own typed review for Emer Stamp's 'Top Secret Diary of Pig', which he grabbed to re-read for the second time today as a little light relief from the harder work of book 4 of Skulduggery Pleasant.

"It is about a Pig that speaks slang and lives on a farm which is run by a hungry farmer and his wife.Pig has a friend called duck and funnily enough he`s a duck.Next door to Pig are the chicken`s though Pig calls them Evil chicken`s.I like this book because it`s funny and full of poo."

There you go. Goodness; suddenly realise how pointlessly verbose I've been all this time. Nothing much to add to that except to say pig's adventures and his enforced spaceflight, also made me giggle; despite the fact  it is REALLY full of poo. A good, silly choice for those who want their farts with heart.


There was a great tutorial by Emer Stamp on how to draw all those 'Evil chicken's' in yesterday's Guardian.

'The Unbelievable Top Secret Diary of pig' by Emer Stamp, pub Scholastic isbn. 978-1407136370

Thanks to Scholastic for a Review copy many moons ago.  Bill's decision to review and his opinions are his own.

Dixie O' Day

'Dixie O'Day: In the Fast Lane' written by Shirley Hughes and illustrated by Clara Vulliamy.

Honestly, if you have any interest in children's books at all, I shouldn't need to write any more than that in this review. You should've already turned away from the screen, grabbed your wallet and keys and headed out the door to your nearest bookshop. In your pyjamas is fine in this case. Scoot.

Because a new book by Shirley Hughes AND Clara Vulliamy? Their first mother/daughter collaboration? Their first early chapter book? Come ON you can't tell me that's not jiggle-up-and-down-smiley, wave-small-flags, do-special-happy-dance-while-juggling-chocolate-muffins-in-the-sunshine kind of news?

I'm not alone in being excited. Dapper driver dog Dixie and his best pal Percy's first adventure has already been selected as Children's Book of the Week by the Sunday Times and (ooo escalation) Book of the Month by Waterstones. There's a bit of a buzz there is. I was practically camped by my letterbox whilst I waited for my copy to arrive.

But y'know buzz shmuzz, Sunday Times Shmunday Shtimes, Waterstones Shmaterstones...there's only one opinion that counts in this house and many are the mighty who have supplicated before him and been spurned.

I speak of course of the exacting standards of Fellow Reviewer Eddie, who like a Roman Emperor, will thumb up or thumb down a book with scant regard for reputation or social nicety.

My review of 'In the Fast Lane' is that is a little gem. A gorgeous, small but chunky hardback; just the right size for the new independent readers it's designed for. Vintage vehicles, plentiful biscuits and ice cream sundaes, a Proper baddy (never trust a woman who has a specially designed motoring hat) and a race of twists, turns and escaped sheep make for pages that demand to be turned. This book will make you smile; it bubbles with the joy and warmth of its makers. Never have the words 'made with love' seemed more appropriate.

And Eddie's opinion? Well, when Eddie likes a book there's only one thing he's going to do. Read it, and read it continuously. Out loud from start to finish with voices and brooking no interruptions. On about his third go round, I put the camera on and filmed him surreptitiously and I want to give you a little snippet of his pleasure in the book here. He's mid flow when he turns the page and finds some illustrations that bring him up short and demand his attention. It's a nice little vignette of how beautifully text and pictures can weave together a complete, immersive reading experience. Author, illustrator and reader are ALL in perfect harmony.

Look! A cow in a motorcycle sidecar! Ain't life grand?

'Dixie O'Day, In the Fast Lane' written by Shirley Hughes, illustrated by Clara Vulliamy, pub. The Bodley Head, isbn 978-1-782-30012-0

Happy Birthday Dirty Bertie!

The 'Dirty Bertie' books by Alan MacDonald and David Roberts are celebrating their 10th birthday this week and we're delighted to be joining the blog tour party.

 I'll admit that my children's obsession with all things scatological is not my favourite part of being their parent. Don't even get me started on the stomach churning horror that is playing Bill at 'Plop Trumps'. But there is no doubt that they are obsessed and in this interest they Are Not Alone. Dirty Bertie is hardly the only literary boy with repulsive habits bidding for a place on mine or yours obsessed one's bookshelves, but as one of the first and one of the best, his is a birthday definitely worth celebrating.

I hadn't appreciated that DB (as we'll call him) started life as David Roberts' picture book creation before starring in his ever increasing range of early chapter book titles, now written by Alan MacDonald and still illustrated by David Roberts. The chapter books, with their punchy titles eg., 'Pants!' 'Germs!' 'Loo!' and new volume 'Toothy!' were among the first books Bill learn't to devour whole in one sitting as his reading took off. They were probably some of the first that he was moved to reserve at the library too; cue small figure appearing at desk and whispering "Excuse me, have you got 'Bogeys' please?" much to librarian's discomfort.

These books are actually rather gentler and less bodily function dominated affairs than their shouty covers might suggest. They follow the 'Horrid Henry' style format of having three stories per volume but parents and children who find Henry too horrid might well warm to the more diffident, accident prone Bertie. In 'Toothy' DB manages to confuse a dentist with a murderer, cause a major alarm on board an aeroplane and confront the difficulties of ice cream smuggling in school. But David Roberts' illustrations reveal Bertie as endearing round eyed, rosy cheeked ingenue rather than practised schemer and plotter and the trouble he invariably ends up in is not consequence free.

The two original picture books, 'Dirty Bertie' and 'Pooh, is that you Bertie?' are more straightforwardly gross-out and as such have been going down a storm with the Beanstalk kids I do reading help with this week. Who can resist a book that promises a different fart sound button on every page? Plus it turns out that many of the sounds associated with wind provide excellent phonic practice. Anyone entering the library where we read has been treated to the painstaking sounding out of essential vocabulary; t-r-u-m-p, p-oo-t and b-o-ff and (tricky word) ph-u-tt...

In honour of Dirty Bertie's birthday it seemed only fair to prepare a Dirty Bertie-style feast. The fellow reviewers weren't entirely convinced by the delights of my tenderly prepared Bogey Fondue with breadstick Finger dippers...

However, Pudding!(now there's a Dirty Bertie title I'm looking for) of Worms and Soil was a storming success.

"Any more worms Mum?"

Dirty Bertie books are written by Alan MacDonald and illustrated by David Roberts, published by Stripes and Little Tiger Press. Happy Birthday Bertie!

Disclosure: We were sent a few titles for the benefit of this post by kindness of the publishers. Our opinions are our own.

Claude

Some books Eddie hearts in an absolute and immediate way on first introduction, there are plenty he hearts never, despite objective merit  and a select few are slow creepers, that must be read a few times in his hearing whilst he runs-up-and-down-paying-no-apparent-attention-at-all until; all of a sudden, he GETS them and then Will not Be Parted From Them Ever Again. There is no knowing in advance which way he'll go.

The wonderful 'Claude' books by Alex T. Smith I am delighted to announce have recently come into this last category. Phew. I'd been loving them for a while; they have great parent appeal, but it's reassuring that they have also become a hit with the intended audience. The occasional division between parental admiration and child-love for books is a problem many will recognise. In the same way my lovely homemade lentil and tomato soup is spat out in favour of Heinz, one's children can show TERRIBLE taste in books. (Please God not the Mr Men again, please God no. Please. Noooooo!...)

 Claude is a small, natttily-dressed and extremely talented dog with a thirst for adventure not always shared by his life companion; the enigmatic Sir Bobblysock. Who, in case it needs clarifying, is a sock. The books are packaged as perfect small illustrated chapter books, whilst not containing very much more text than a long picture book. Just the right amount for a newly confident reader to enjoy in one or two sittings and Feel Proud.

The parent appeal is in the very gentle innuendo and playful illustrations. It's fairly high camp: Sort of 'My First Carry On Claude'; (think saucily positioned vegetables) but in the most sweet and warm hearted way. Funny and fun to read.

Anyway, Eddie was given 'Claude in the Country' for his birthday and I read it to him a few times without him really 'noticing' it. Then we got 'Claude at the Circus' and a dramatic change occurred at a spread where Claude and Sir Bobblysock go ice cream shopping in the park. He stopped running back and forth and came over to assess the ice cream options very carefully indeed: "Sir Bobblysock chooses an ice lolly Mum. But I think I would choose a chocolate ice cream, maybe with a chocolate flake and maybe with a cherry on top."

That was all it needed. Claude sold. Eddie passionately engaged and now a near complete collection of Claude books in his bed and part of his nightly repertoire.

As I say. phew.

There is a moral here: Authors! Including choices of pudding items early in your books to maximise Eddie attraction. Ice cream sells.

A trio of Claudes- and there are more! Huzzah.

This is a very good example of the type of ice cream picture you may wish to include

'Claude at the Circus' (and others) by Alex T. Smith, pub. Hodder, isbn 978-0-340-99903-5

CHRISTMAS!!!

It's Christmas time! It's Christmas time! It's (almost nearly) Christmas time!!

I really like Christmas. Can you tell?

Would you like some Christmassy books then? Oh go'arn. You know you do really.

Bill and Eddie (and me to be honest- my stocking still gets filled) are all firm believers in the Man in the Red Suit. Insomniac Eddie is now officially on detail to see him arrive in the flesh following a triumphant sighting of the tooth fairy this weekend. For Bill, the messages he's received from the rather brilliant Personal North Pole are the clincher- if it's been on the computer it Must Be True (I fear for his future Wikipedia derived essays).

In future posts this month I'll pick out some of my old faithful Christmas stories. We're not efficient enough to wrap a book a day for Advent as others have suggested but we still have our supplies. Advent opening is complicated enough between our broad church selection of calendars representing Wheres Wally, Doctor Who, The Beano and Baby Jesus.

Today I am picking out a couple of new titles I've been sent.

'Dear Santa'  by Kathryn White and Polona Lovsin is a storybook complete with letter writing kit for sending off your own requests to Father Christmas old style if you're finding it difficult to Facetime/Skype with him.

Now I have to admit this is not my favourite- not being that keen on the anthropomorphised animals and the slightly cutesie illustrative style. This comes down to personal taste though- the boy's grandparents often choose them books with this kind of cosy aesthetic; I'm just an edgier kind girl. Also it commits the Cardinal Sin of having penguins at the North Pole which makes me suck breath in through my teeth in a tutting sort of way.

BUT

Eddie picked it up straight away, read it and then IMMEDIATELY RAIDED THE LETTER WRITING SET AND WROTE HIS OWN LETTER TO F.C.

Now that may not seem worth all the shouty capitals to you but if you knew Eddie's pen phobia then you would know that that is a very big deal indeed.

and Bill (not worth capitals but still) did the same too. It seems my sons are as much a sucker for a little stationery set with stickers as the next girl. Who'd a thunk it? Sometimes it seems all you want is a bear and rabbit in woolly hats off on an adventure.

Father Christmas may need some legibility help with Eddie's letter(he wants Jabba the Hutt Lego) but I'm sure the elves are good at that sort of thing.

Penguins notwithstanding I have to say thanks 'Dear Santa'.

More up my street to read aloud is 'On a Starry Night' a collection of Christmassy animal tales by authors including Michael Broad, Holly Webb and Penny Dolan. For those of us who haven't been efficient with the individual 24 wrapped calendar books this provides a handy get out in providing 10 days worth of Advent suitable reading matter in one volume.

The stories range from the domestic to the myth based and include narwhals and monkeys as well as the more wintry Arctic fox and reindeers and whilst there is a definite bias towards female protagonists this book does not feel too gender niched. There's a satisfying amount of snow and weather within them- and there's nothing nicer to read aloud when you are curled up warm by the fire at home. Personally I love nothing better than falling asleep to a really good Radio 5 phone in about poorly gritted roads and snow chaos.

As to the tooth fairy sighting? Eddie states that she was the size of a small apple, with short black sticky out hair, green fairy clothes, a grey wand and a sack full of coins. He provided a witness statement the next day. Keep your eyes peeled; we're worried she may have an untreated thyroid condition in urgent need of medical attention.

'Dear Santa' by Kathryn White and Polona Lovsin, pub. Little Tiger Press,isbn 978-1-84895-461-8
'On a Starry Night' pub. by Stripes isbn 978-1-84715-258-9

With thanks to the publishers for providing review copies. Our opinions are our own.

The Snow Bear

I'd like to write a post about my frustrations with the gender stereotyping in both content but more particularly packaging that dominates the young reader market of first chapter books. I'd like to, but it would be a pointless activity because 'Mrs H.' has already done it brilliantly here. Don't miss scrolling though the comments either and following the link to Kate Wilson at Nosy Crow's pragmatic publishing response.

It's pretty depressing to read that retail buyers are actively seeking out pink titles even in picture books now. Depressing particularly because, at the moment, it does seem to be the simple chapter book market that's the worst offender- but are they just the trailblazers for a new wave of gender-dividing-to-come for picture books and older readers too?

In that early chapter book market, series dominate to hook kids into the reading habit. Gender dividing operates most obviously at a subject matter level: Girls get the princesses and the ponies and boys get the fighting and the farts, but more insidiously I think gender  dividing also happens too often in the way those subjects are treated. Boys seem to get the lion's share of funny action, girls get more emotional journey; not very fair on either.

Whilst musing on these things through my letterbox plopped, 'The Snow Bear' by Holly Webb. It being a rainy sort of afternoon and me having a nice headcold brewing I settled down to read it. It's a lovely Christmassy tale of a girl who builds a snow polar bear and igloo with her grandfather and then goes on a magical adventure to help a real lost cub and meet a real Inuit family. Expecting (from the prolific output of its author) something rather formulaic and sentimental, I'll admit I was surprised by its depth and quality. For a short and simple book designed for young readers, there are tricksy themes of dealing with separation and change handled lightly as well as some sound insights into another culture. Traditional life in the Arctic tundra is nicely evoked.

(sidenote to say it rather reminded me of Lucy Fitch Perkin's classic 'The Eskimo Twins' and I've just discovered that all the Twins books are free to kindle now. oooo. an evening of distraction awaits...)

I started reading 'The Snow Bear' to Bill this weekend and, in front of the fire after a day of go-karting down wet muddy hills, it was a good snuggly choice appreciated by us both. I have to say though, if I didn't read it to him I doubt he'd have picked it up to read to himself. Whilst its soft silvery cover is not in-your-face girly, when I showed it to him he furrowed his brow in slight distrust. "Is that for me?" He's learnt the rules. sigh

Browsing around Holly Webb's (nicely designed and informative) website it's clear that her main fanbase is girls and that her books, to a greater or lesser extent are written, marketed and packaged with girl-appeal tuned to max. I understand that's how you may get most copies sold but it makes me  sad. Caring for animals (or caring fullstop) is not an exclusively girl-trait after all. And a good book for one is a good book for all...

'The Snow Bear' by Holly Webb, published by Stripes isbn 978-1-84715-255-8

Disclosure. We received our copy by kindness of the publisher. Our opinions are our own.

How to eat fried worms

Another reason to love the rain! A boon to the humble but extremely useful worm. There was I must admit, a rather depressing news article yesterday about what the weather has been doing to local wildlife. It's not been good news for fledgling birds or baby bats or butterflies and bees at all alas. BUT worms are amongst the weather winners, as well as- hurray!- the slugs and snails (including the new encroaching Spanish Super Slug able to lay 4 times as many eggs as the weedy indigenous English sort apparently).

Shouting hurray for slugs is pushing me to the max but I'm trying: The walk to school has been enlivened by playing dodge the moving gastropod and examining the innards of exploded ones that others didn't dodge. A friend counted 50 slugs on the go on her own 750 metre journey. Impressive. Plus I get the always delightful company of Bill for longer as he now refuses to take his separate short cut through a tunnel where slugs gather in great huddles on the wall 'in case they get me'.

I confess I used to feel the same way about worms. Which just might have something to do with the lasting psychological scars inflicted by my big brothers who used to build worm traps and lure me to fall into them. Meanies. But I am stronger now and it I like to think that reading 'How to Eat Fried Worms' by Thomas Rockwell some time in the early 80s in Cambridge Central Library formed part of my personal Recovery Programme.

The book is an American classic of course; prescribed reading in some 'middle' schools and banned in (worm hugging presumably) others or so I hear. First published in 1973 it's the story of 10 year old Billy's quest to eat 15 worms in 15 days to win a bet. Each worm gets its own chapter billing and its own different despatch; whether within a fried cheese sandwich, smothered in ketchup or peanut butter or just downed straight from the soil, oyster-style. This is a great read for fans of condiments.

And thirty years or so after his mother Bill gobbled it down too with much sniggering appreciation.

It's just a shame there's no slug recipes inside...Spanish Slug Paella perhaps?

'"What have you got for lunch?" asked Tom.
Billy looked embarrassed.
"Worm-and-egg on rye."
"Heck," said Tom. "Why can't you ever bring something somebody else likes, so you can trade?"
Billy frowned. He opened his lunch bag.
"I don't know. I just can't stop. I don't dare tell my mother. I even like the taste now." He scratched his head. "Do you think there's something the doctors don't know? Do you think I could be the first person who's ever been hooked on worms?"'

'How to eat fried worms' by Thomas Rockwell, pub. Orchard books, isbn 978-1-84362-206-2

Dinkin Dings

Bill has been limbering himself up recently to embark on the fourth Harry Potter book. It's the 'Goblet of Fire' and at 640 pages the first one where J.K. started to shed some self-editing inhibitions. He REALLY wants to read it but there's no doubt that the sheer size of the task in front of him feels overwhelming. He also knows that nothing but More and More pages lie in the volumes in front of him, the gentle foothills of the relatively contained first three books are behind and nothing but great peaks are in view now. He does a lot of getting the last four books out of the shelves, lining them up, flicking through them, sitting on them and just silent gazing at them; willing them to reveal their secrets more easily. He's just not sure he can spare the time from falling off his skateboard, drawing robots and building Lego weaponry to Commit and I understand just how he feels. I go through much the same motions with the first volume of Proust.

So, like all good mountaineers, I have suggested that he allow himself to acclimatise on the lower slopes for a while; admire how far he's come and stop and smell the alpine flowers. It's time to pause, let the boy wizard enjoy his summer break and read some things with Less Words In Them.

And the books with less but perfectly chosen words in them  that he has most enjoyed over the last couple of weeks have been Guy Bass's 'Dinkin Dings' series. Bill has recently worked out that his favourite type of books are 'funny adventure stories' (so say all of us to be honest; that's why I am never more than 10 metres away from a Georgette Heyer novel). I scour the shelves to provide him with as many possible sources of these to choose from and accept that some fall by the wayside ('Astrosaurs' for instance which I thought would hit the mark) and some are devoured and Twist-like must be followed by MORE.

There are four 'Dinkin Dings' books to sustain that appetite (not quite enough for a growing boy actually). Dinkin Dings the hero is a boy who is frightened of absolutely everything apart from his 'Frightening Things' friends; a monster, a skeleton and a ghost who share his room. When new next door neighbours move in, Dinkin is the only person who thinks that they are in fact flesh eating alien space zombies. When he eats fish fingers by accident, Dinkin is sure the mutated fingerless Fish Men will come out of the shadows to get him. For some reason nobody believes him.

Well more fool them. I'm not giving too much away but let's just say thank god for far-sighted boys like Dinkin out there who protect the rest of us naive fools and allow us to pass our daily lives in a state of benign credulity.
 The secret of these books' appeal to both Bill and me is of course that Dinkin is right some of the time but not all of the time, there are some genuine surprises unfolded. That's relatively unusual in my speed reading of books for this market and I appreciate some crafty plotting. And they're funny; text aided by some great illustrations by Pete Williamson- Dinkin's fear expressed by being mainly composed of eyes and hair.

'"Don't tell me you ate fish fingers..." said Edgar
'I didn't mean to! I was distracted! My dad had grown a moustache! I thought he was some sort of spy, or evil dad-double!"
"Well, that's all right then- except that we're now DOOMED!" screamed Arthur'

Funny + Adventure = Bill chuckling on the sofa and ignoring skateboard, drawing pad and Lego. No need for me then, I'd better go and start on Proust if 'Regency Buck' doesn't distract me on the way...

'Dinkin Dings and the Revenge of the Fish-Men' by Guy Bass, illustrated by Pete Williamson, pub.Stripes isbn 978-1-84715-086-8 (three other titles available all with 7 yr old boy APPROVED stamp)

Mary Plain diversions

Marked diversions because I must warn you from the outset that the books about Mary Plain the adventuring bear from the bear pits of Berne by Gwynedd Rae are currently more or less out of print. I don't normally write about books which you can't immediately read if you want to but there you go. This may be just a post for pre-existing bear enthusiasts and you have fair warning to stop reading now if you're in a Practical Frame of Mind and have no time for wallowing in someone else's nostalgia.

Now I know I said Noel Streatfeild was my favourite author and Ballet Shoes was my favourite book growing up but BEFORE she was ousted by the Fossil sisters the Mary Plain books were my very first 'chapter book' loves. I read them again, and again and again; introduced to them by my mother who had in her turn loved them I think.
Gwynedd Rae wrote the first; 'Mostly Mary' in 1930 and thirteen more, the last appearing in 1965. We can't have had them all, but most of them; some in their original edition hardback copies with illustrations by Irene Williamson and some Knight paperbacks from the 70's with illustrations by Janina Ede (which I have to confess I think I preferred). Only three books remain in my possession, but I can still recall the covers of the others incredibly clearly with that definite memory imprinting that only happens in childhood. I think an apology may be due to my older sister for those hardbacks that I DO have though. I can see they are from an issue of 1961; the year of her birth, leading me to guess they must have been an excited purchase or gift from my mother to her firstborn ready and waiting for her to 'grow into'. Bill had quite a library awaiting him by 6 weeks old or so from his impatient mother too.

Mary Plain is an orphan bear cub at Berne zoo who is befriended by the spectacled 'Owl Man' by means of the regular application of bear friendly treats (sugar carrots! condensed milk delivered by hose! cream buns!) and persuaded to leave the safety of her home and her bear twin cousins Marionetta and Little Wool and embark on a series of adventures or 'svisits' with him and his friends Bill Smith and 'The Fur Coat Lady'. These range from winning first prize in a show, to capturing Nazi spies and outwitting kidnappers, from escaping a field of angry bulls to being washed up on a tropical island . Mary is always funny, practically fearless, wonderfully manipulative, endlessly imaginative and just the best company ever. I identified so strongly with her it's possible I developed furry ears.

There is, you may not be surprised to hear given my identification, a thread of glorious gluttony that runs through all Mary Plain books. She eats constantly and always things that sounded completely delicious to me; hot bread and milk, cream buns, chocolate eclairs and meringues (which I always read as mer-in-gyoos and wondered what they could be). She also has an excellent, if limited wardrobe of clothes comprising a ballet skirt, striped bathing suit, nurses hat and a bus conductor's uniform. How much simpler life could be if that was all one had to choose from. She has her own style of pictogram writing too which made passages of the books fun to decipher. Lastly I commend to you her catchphrases which you may find handily cover all moments of Triumph and Despair in life:

To convey sadness and uncertainty: 'I wonder if the Twins are happy without me?'

Or when self esteem is more buoyant : 'I am an unusual first class bear with a white rosette and a gold medal with a picture of myself on it.'

"Gracious! that's the cock waking me up, it must be another day," and Mary pattered over to the window and had a look. Yes it was. How lovely! Mary liked new days. You never could tell what might happen on a new day; so many things could and especially when the day was Mary's..."

Irene Williamson's Mary

Janina Ede's version

Pictogram fun

I'm sad these books are out of print- but not surprised. I must confess I haven't shared the three I do have with my children yet. They're VERY un-politically correct; casually racist in places and full of fur, pipes, smacking and inappropriate care of entrusted wild beasts besides! Having said that, a sensitive re-write/edit would seem possible and would be so worthwhile. PUBLISHERS TAKE NOTE. They're just cracking good stories and it's a shame to lose them. More buns please.

With many thanks to Clara Vulliamy, Jane Porter and Girls Heart Books amongst others for enjoyable MP fandom on Twitter this week.

Mustering Fairies- Part 3 Blyton and beyond

I'm going to move all the way up to date to the 1930s (I'm contemporary me) in my fairy mustering to the prolific and ubiquitous Enid Blyton and her, to my mind, best books; 'The Wishing Chair' series and 'The Faraway Tree' series. Jam packed with fairies, elves, pixies, sprites and every other sort of magical creature these were amongst my favourite rainy day comfort reading books as a child and it's no surprise they remain top sellers today.

Ordinary children discover parallel magical worlds full of adventure, very mild peril and frankly QUANTITIES of delicious things to eat. These were books I literally salivated over. Whatever you think about Blyton (and my thinkings are quite mixed) she certainly understood the way children's minds work: They're after in no particular order, independence, the ability to fly, and access to unlimited cake. The books offer all of these treats in abundance. I particularly loved 'The Folk of the Faraway Tree'. The concept of a tree which a. grows every different sort of fruit you like and b. has a selection of lands at the top many of which provide a combination of free flowing treats is pretty irresistable.

When Bill was 5 or so, I bought 'The Adventures of the Wishing Chair' and read it to him. It was only then that I discovered just how dreary they are in language and formulaic in conceit. What a shame; a childhood favourite it turned out I'd grown out of, (and there was I thinking I hadn't grown up at all). But as it turns out these are children's books in the truest sense; for children to enjoy on their own without adult as gatekeeper. Just how fairy encounters should be too I suppose. They are books to leave around your newly confident reader and let them discover solo; they don't repay being read out loud (or not if you're selfish like me and want to get something for yourself too).

'"Will you each wish for what you like best to eat?" said the magician in his kind,deep voice. "Take it in turn, please!"
A brownie next to him said, "I wish for honey-lemonade and sugar biscuits!"
At once a jug of yellow lemonade appeared by him and a plate of deliciopus sugar biscuits! The fairy next to the brownie wished for chocolate blanc-mange and a cream ice. They appeared even as she spoke the words! It was such fun to see them come.
Mollie and Peter watched in amazement as all the dishes and jugs on the table became full of the most exciting things when each little creature wished his or her wish. They had their turns too!
"I wish for cream buns and ginger-beer!" said Mollie.
"And I wish for treacle pudding and lemonade!" said Peter'

Well all right that random offering from the pages of  'The Adventures of the Wishing-Chair' makes me quite wistful for those curled up days of childhood again. Can I wish for a cup of tea and some marmite toast please?

One final and finally actually up to date offering for the sake of completeness. Bill had out from the library last year a book called 'Flax the Feral Fairy' by Tiffany Mandrake (What an appropriate name!-smirk). The first in the 'Little Horrors' series about an Academy for Badness in fairies and other magical creatures. I'm not going to make any great claims for it but he enjoyed it. If you are currently trying to keep your head above a wave of Rainbow Magic threatening to engulf your house they might provide a nice antidote.

'The Adventures of the Wishing Chair' (amongst others) by Enid Blyton, pub. Egmont isbn 978-1-4052-3958-5

Now off to Playing by the Books link up here, where you will find a whole host (fluttering? what is the collective noun for fairies?) of other winged offerings.

Fairy Mustering Part 2- Racketty Packetty House

Well hurray for first of all this post about dolls houses from Clara Vulliamy, and second of all for the distractions of Twitter preventing me giving my full attention to last night's DVD ('Limitless'- didn't really need my full attention).
Because.
They reminded me Just In Time of the wonderful 'Racketty Packetty House' by Frances Hodgson Burnett; a book not only well sprinkled with fairies but actually WRITTEN by one - the wonderfully named Queen Crosspatch herself. In best fairy fashion it was hiding in a dark forgotten corner of my bookshelf all this time.

First published in 1907 I think I can best describe 'Racketty Packetty House' as Toy Story meets Downton Abbey. Spoilt and neglectful Cynthia has been given a new doll's house; Tidy Castle full of 'all modern improvements' and has no time for her inherited shabby Racketty Packetty House, the once grand and loved toy of her Grandmamma. Racketty Packetty's occupants had originally been dressed very grandly and had grand names to match; Victoria Leopoldina and Aurelia Matilda and Charles Edward Stuart:
'For a long time they led a very gay and fashionable life. They had parties and balls and were presented at Court and went to Royal Christenings and Weddings and were married themselves and had families and scarlet fever and whooping cough and funerals and every luxury. But that was long, long ago.'
Now the renamed Meg, Peg, Kilmanskeg, Gustibus, Ridiklis and Peter Piper have fallen into disrepair and whilst irrepressibly cheerful, spend their days watching the proud new occupants of Tidy Castle leading glamorous aristocratic lives from their new position behind the nursery door. Worse still is Cynthia and her Nurse's threat to burn them and their house together. Peter Piper is the bravest:
'We are only made of wood and it won't hurt a bit. We shall just snap and crackle and go off almost like fireworks and then we shall be ashes and fly away and see all sorts of things.'

The intervention of Queen Crosspatch and her army of fairies will save Racketty House on more than one occasion. There is also a very satisfying love affair across the class divide. And a terrifying outbreak of Scarlet Fever at |Tidy Castle where all the inhabitants are left in a state of high delirium after Cynthia loses interest mid-game. And a visit from a Real Princess. It's packed full of incident as well as warmth, humour and some  great one liners.
'Every one of us is as nice as we can be. We are perfect Turkish Delights. It's laughing that does it.'

The great thing is that you can actually read it Right Now if you choose as it's out of copyright and available on line. Here's the Wikisource link.

And here's my copy, complete with fairies courtesy of illustrator Harrison Cady and my own fairy end paper addition.

Fairy gold.
'Racketty Packetty house' by Frances Hodgson Burnett, illus. Harrison Cady many different editions available.

Holiday diversions part 2

Solid reading matter is all well and good for holiday distraction but sometimes something lighter is called for. It's hard to sustain concentration even on wizard boy H.P. at cruising altitude, and whilst endless games of Top Trumps and Uno could get us through the rest, sometimes a mother needs to rest her eyelids. So into both boys' rucksacks went a couple of Usborne sticker books (an old favourite)  and into Bill's went two Mega Mash-Up books (a new punt by me).

Continuing a previously mentioned theme of my love of Usborne; just how good are their sticker books? Really good I reckon. So nice in fact that Father Christmas had to bring one for the husband at Christmas time because he was getting sticker book envy. At moments of stress he likes to unwind by placing toga-ed Romans in the Senate or Bath house, or matching Gladiators together whilst making fighting noises.

What I Like About Them. A List.
1. The stickers actually stick. It's surprising how often this cannot be taken as a given in a sticker book.
2. The variety and number of stickers to be placed on each scene and the pleasing level of detail you can build up. One book can sustain an entire 2 week holiday of first sticking fun and then back story discussion.
3. There are dress up sticker books for boys! I used to love cutting out the clothes with little tabs for paper dolls and hanging them on perilously. It was one of the activities I had quietly let go of ever revisiting (along with very detailed colouring in of Altair pattern books) when I realised I was to be a Mother of Sons. Thanks to Usborne's Soldiers, Knights, Pirates etc. titles I can share the joy of choosing who should have which breastplate/sword combo.
4. They're even a bit educational but only a bit so that's okay.

On to Mega Mash-ups by Niklass Catlow, Tim Wesson and...Bill. These are a bunch of new 'draw your own adventure titles'published by Nosy Crow that offer pleasingly silly juxtapositions. I got Bill 'Robots V Gorillas in the Desert' and 'Romans V Dinosaurs on Mars'.

We've had cheapy draw-it-yourself books before but they've never been much used partly because the stories offered have been pretty yawn inducing and partly because the pages were intimidatingly blank enough to make the task feel overwhelming I think. These however were an instant hit with the Bill boy.

A passion for drawing is a recent discovery for him and the books provide just enough space and support to encourage him to draw just what he likes; ie. exploding banana monsters and mutant robot dinosaurs. They're in a simple chapter book format and full of silliness and poo and Tom and Jerry style fighting and poo and silly insults and poo, pressing all the right buttons in terms of text and graphics to enchant a 7 year old boy. There's also a section at the back of each book with a visual dictionary to help develop your cartoon drawing skills. Over the week he probably only completed about a third of the pages so there's plenty to come back to too.
I'm going to be giving a lot of these as birthday presents I think.

Thanks to such distractions I got to read 950 pages of Anthony Trollope. Well packed Me though I say so myself.

'Romans sticker book' (amongst many, many others) pub. Usborne Activities isbn 978-1-4095-3072-5
'Romans V Dinosaurs on Mars' by Niklas Catlow, Tim Wesson and Your Child (amongst several others)
pub. Nosy Crow isbn 978-0-85763-001-8

Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf

Now why did/do I like this book? :)

I have a great fondness for my name ('like a big, round, yellow lollipop' says my friend with synaesthesia), but there's no doubt that rhyming with 'wally' and otherwise being associated with a variety of milkmaids and parrots has it's downsides. And I am fortunate that my husband's fondness for a near constant infusion of tea does not make him take advantage when I am kettle bound. He probably knows he would not be my husband if he did.

But Catherine Storr's 'Clever Polly' is a namesake to be proud of and aspire to. These short stories have remained in print more or less since 1955 and are as fresh and funny as ever. I made the mistake of first trying to read them to Bill too young, reasoning that because they were short they were a good 'starter' chapter book. In fact they were way too subtle for him, and he probably wasn't familiar enough with his classic literary wolves to enjoy them properly. Now, their time has come.

Polly is a smallish girl of indeterminate age but independent habits who is plagued by a cold caller wolf who openly wants to eat her. Fortunately  Polly is possessed of remarkable wit and resourcefulness and the wolf, whilst full of the beginnings of plans, has not paid close enough attention to his fairytale heroes and their conclusions. Thus he tries to plant a beanstalk to climb up to Polly's bedroom window- but has made the critical mistake of not purchasing 'magic' beans. Or tries to huff and puff her house down with an inadequate pair of bellows. Or gets ripped off by a witch who tricks him into thinking he's invisible.

The revisiting and subversion of classic nursery tales is familiar enough but what lifts these stories above the pack is firstly the humour of the dialogue between Polly and Wolf:

'"Good morning, Wolf," said Polly. "What are you planting this time?"
"This time," said the wolf, "I've had a Really good idea. I'm planting something which will grow up to your window in a moment."
"Oh," said Polly, interested. "What's that?"
"I have planted the rung of a ladder," said the wolf. "By tomorrow morning there'll be a long ladder stretching right up to your bedroom window. I specially chose a rung from the longest ladder I could see..."'

And secondly, the genuine and delicious frisson of fear contained within the humour. Polly really does have to work to save her skin; she is clever. And in a 1950's world where she shops on her own and stays home by herself, there is no comforting sense of an adult ready to intervene at any moment if she can't talk herself out of trouble. The child reader/listener gets just enough taste of what real independence might mean to wonder how they themselves might measure up under such circumstances. In the story 'In the Wolf's Kitchen' Polly actually gets caught and imprisoned for several days and is only saved by her excellent housekeeping skills. The darkness accentuates the funniness; the delight of shocked giggles.

'"Now Polly, I've really got you at last, and this time all your cleverness won't help you, for I am going to gobble you up."
"Oh very well," said Polly, obligingly. She looked round. "Where is the kitchen?" she asked.
"The kitchen?" said the wolf.
"But of course the kitchen," said Polly. "You are going to cook me, aren't you? Oh , Wolf," she said, as she looked at his surprised face, "you can't mean that you were going to eat me Raw?"'

And finally it is the loveable loneliness of the wolf and the ever-so-slight smugness of Polly that has kept these stories in print. I think it was probably one of my first experiences of split loyalty as a child reader and understanding how emotions can be manipulated by skillful writing. Because Polly always wins and always gets away and one couldn't/can't help feeling empathy for poor wolf. It's not that I wanted him to eat Polly but surely some other small girl with a different name might have been expendable?

'Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf' by Catherine Storr, pub. Jane Nissen books isbn
978-1903252284

Ricky Ricotta

Bill is, like many other boys his age, a big Dav Pilkey fan, gobbling through all the 'Captain Underpants' books in the space of a fortnight, and regularly haunting his website for news of forthcoming releases and to play unsuitable games involving animated poo. Captain Underpants and Super Diaper Baby are also probably responsible for getting Bill interested in doing some drawing; a habit I'm glad to see increasing at the moment.

The first Dav Pilkey books he enjoyed however and indeed probably the first 'chapter' books he read were the 'Ricky Ricotta's Mighty Robot' series, illustrated by Martin Ontiveros. They're a great starting point for enthusing early readers who want to feel grown up or for older, less confident readers who need a boost. They also feature live 'flip-o-rama' action at regular points in the story enabling the animation of real fighting. Cool.

Ricky Ricotta is a mouse who lives in Squeakyville and has some bully problems until he befriends the giant robot created to do evil by the dastardly Dr. Stinky. Together they defeat Dr Stinky and his new monstrous Hate Lizard, save Squeakyville and become the most popular pair in the school. That's about it really.

Told in 14 chapters each of under 100 words- this is a book that is easy to read but feels ambitious and empowering to the reader. Useful stuff. There are seven more books, each featuring a different terrifying threat from our neighbouring planets. Ricky and his robot variously defeat (amongst others) the Stupid Stinkbugs from Saturn, the Jurassic Jack Rabbits from Jupiter, The Mutant Mosquitoes from Mercury and (my favourite) the Uranium Unicorns from Uranus (who knew?). It's formulaic- but hey who cares? If you're struggling to find the key to unlock the joys of trash fiction to your 5/6/7/8 year old, this might just do the job.

'Ricky Ricotta's Mighty Robot'  written Dav Pilkey, illustrated Martin Ontiveros,
 pub.  Scholastic isbn 1407107585

Billy Bonkers

'Pinterest' turns out to be a great way to find a day gone whilst having fun kicking cans about the backalleys of the internet. I started my first 'boards' yesterday: 'Style advice from Children's Literature' and 'Food in kids books' are pretty self explanatory but I also had fun with my 'The Real...' board featuring the real Enormous Crocodile, Very Hungry Caterpillar and, of course, Little Wooden Horse amongst others. Let me know what you think I should add to any of them.

'Billy Bonkers' and 'Billy Bonkers 2' by Giles Andreae, illustrated by Nick Sharatt are today's book recommendations for you from Bill and me. Bill would like to be 'The Real' Billy Bonkers come to think of it.

Each book contains three delightfully silly adventures for Billy and his family. It's pretty standard stuff; an every day family situation starts peacefully but then spirals out of control, Mum and Dad Bonkers panic, cool headed sister Betty makes a clever plan and Billy  carries it through, saving the day, lives, the planet and normally getting to eat inordinate amounts of cake and chips at the end. I admire the total maxing out of the silliness though.

In the first story, 'Billy Bonkers and the Great Porridge Incident' for example, Billy eats so many raw porridge oats for breakfast  that he produces enough gas to swell up like a balloon and rise up through the ceiling and the roof of the house. He's only saved from rising further by his unravelling pyjama bottoms tethering him to a tree. Quick thinking Betty works out he needs to burp and uses Mrs. Bonkers' enormous, comfy mummy pants (I recognise these) to fire a gigantic pork pie at Billy to thump him on the back and;

"There was a small pause. Then Billy felt his tummy begin to turn around and around like a washing machine. It churned and wobbled and rumbled and then it happened...
BLLOOAARRGGGHHHPPP!!!
Billy did the most enormous burp the world has ever known. I don't really know how to spell a burp such as this. I couldn't get anywhere near to imitating the sound, but I hope you can imagine the kind of burp that this was. It was the kind of burp that shook houses and that blew birds out of trees."

Are you getting a flavour of why this book might be popular with my 7 year old son? The nice thing is that a lot of slightly formulaic stories would end there but this book then  escalates further to have Billy flying around the sky and then fortuitously making contact with a bunch of robbers in the middle of stealing all the loot from Mrs. Dingleberry's Cake, Sweets, Chocolate and Ice Cream Emporium.

"Not in their wildest dreams could they have imagined that a boy, wearing hardly anything at all except for his sister's frilly pants, would come hurtling towards them at a hundred miles an hour a few inches above the ground and slam right into them, knocking them over as they were trying to escape, and sending money, cakes, sweets, chocolates and ice cream flying about in all directions. But this is exactly what happened."

Billy is given a hero's medal by the police and promised free cake, sweets, chocolates and ice cream by a grateful Mrs. Dingleberry for the rest of his life. And that's just the first story.

I wonder if girls reading these books might start to feel a slight sense of outrage that in every case it is little sister Betty who actually solves the problems. In their defence Bill has made that connection himself. Betty is also the only character who escapes with dignity intact throughout. Girls will hopefully enjoy the fun just as much and swell quietly with their own sense of innate superiority. The Great Gender Divide at Five that seems to be fostered in some publishing divisions bothers me muchly. I just want good books not boys books or girls books.  How about some farting super-pony books or mutant robo-fairies bottling sunbeams?

'Billy Bonkers' written Giles Andreae, illus. Nick Sharratt, pub. Orchard books, isbn 978-1-84616-151-3

The Horridness of Henry

There can be few characters that polarise the posse we will call my Mum Chums (copyright of collective noun K.and S. circa 2002) more than Francesca Simon's Horrid Henry. Opinions seem to range from the apathetic; 'it's just formulaic fodder- rubbish but y'know- whaddever' through the dismissively jealous;'If only I'd thought of it, it could be me swimming in Francesca Simon's lovely lolly thank you very much, what jammy luck she had' to the downright terrified; 'No copy can come through our front door or The War is Lost and we'll need to wall ourselves in the Panic Room until the kids have raised themselves and moved out.'

I think Horrid Henry is brilliant, clever and very very funny. There is a reason why Francesca Simon's books have sold trillions (possibly) and spawned about ten other copy cat franchises: She is a really. good. writer.

Yesterday I did my annual sortie to Bill's upper bunk to change his sheets. I don't go up there often. You have to mine your way though Lego booby traps and 50 assorted soft toys under the supervision of the baleful gaze of his Giant Bob the Builder ('I'll be ready to get rid of him soon Mum- just not yet...'), and then throw everything overboard to excavate the duvet and mattress lurking somewhere beneath. All whilst not braining yourself on the ceiling. In the process I must have discovered six different Horrid Henry books buried in niches around his pillows like a squirrel hoarding nuts. He loves them completely and absolutely. They are, currently, the only books he is motivated to devour in one sitting in daylight hours (oh- apart from Captain Underpants, whose turn in the spotlight will surely come).

If I'm going to argue with the apathetic and dismissive first I will say that I think it's Francesca Simon's ear for dialogue that raises these books above the mass of others. They're fun to read aloud and fun for Bill to read himself. The best ones are plotted as intricately as a good sitcom episode too; with a satisfying weave of sub plot and back firing plans. I wouldn't underestimate the skill that's gone into them or make the mistake of thinking I could do better. (Why do so many people think they can write children's books?- they're really hard-they can't.) We've gone through a fair few alternatives;  the 'Yuck' books, 'Gargoylz' and 'Dirtie Bertie' spring to mind but there are others, and when you read them you come afresh to an appreciation of just how good and varied the Original is.

"Henry sighed. Boy, was this boring. Why didn't they have a decent car, with built-in video games, movies and jacuzzi? That's just what he'd have, when he was king.
Softly, he started to hum under his breath.
'Henry's humming!'
'Stop being horrid, Henry!'
'I'm not doing anything,' protested Henry. He lifted his foot.
'MUM!' squealed Peter. 'Henry's kicking me.'
'Are you kicking him, Henry?'
'Not yet,' muttered Henry....'

As for the terrified; there is no doubt that the behaviour of Henry the hero is horrid. I can see the theory; who would want their children to identify with a boy that tortures his brother, runs rings around his parents, refuses all green matter to eat and hates school (although he's also clever, imaginative, endlessly inventive and self sufficient). All I can say is that Bill at least can understand that this is fiction- not a 'how to' manual. It's not just Henry who's despicable after all, Perfect Peter is nauseating, Mum and Dad distracted and inconsistent, teachers and classmates equally unpleasant. Sometimes Henry gets the upper hand and often he doesn't; whaddever- it's funny. My children may be being raised in an overly ironised household and their ears might be more highly tuned to the nuances of parental sarcasm but I wouldn't make any particular claims for them.
Ultimately, they don't seem any more inclined to follow Henry's example than any of the morally upright, suitable and nourishing heroes I also introduce them too. I liked 'What Katy Did' as a child but I'm afraid (and also glad) to say it definitely didn't turn me into Katy.

'Horrid Henry and the Bogey Babysistter' written Francesca Simon, illus. Tony Ross, pub Orion,
isbn 978-1-85881-826-9
many many others available. audio cds read by Miranda Richardson also a hoot, but I wouldn't bother with the tv series and certainly don't touch the film.

My Naughty Little Sister

When I was little girl, (begins all Dorothy Edwards' lovely stories- but also me today) we didn't have such things as MP3 players or even CDs or even tapes. There was an old portable record player in the playroom and a choice of about 6  singles to play on it. We had Johnny Morris reading Thomas the Tank engine stories. We had Joyce Grenfell doing her 'George Don't Do That' nursery school monologues (please follow this link if you don't know them - perfection). We had 'Lilly the Pink' by The Scaffolds and some honkytonk piano sung to by a man with a gravelly voice who's name I can't remember.

And we had two stories from 'My Naughty Little Sister' by Dorothy Edwards. It was a bit of a treat to listen to any of these records in my memory. As I was the youngest of four, they'd already seen some duty and were inclined to jump about through scratching if you moved; so I had to remain perfectly still whilst they played. They were something brought out when confined poorly to bed (along with the juice beaker shaped like an orange) and thus had Special Status.

The stories were written in the fifties and early sixties and fictionalise the pre-war childhood exploits of Dorothy Edwards and her little sister Phyllis (although neither girl's name is ever used in the books). Written in the first person, the narrator takes on the persona of the wise older sibling commenting with benign superiority on the mischief making and scrapes of her lovable little sister. It's a very clever device because any child listening to or reading the stories is directly addressed and immediately given the status of the Wise and Good themselves. New concepts and ideas are often introduced with 'Now, I know, you would never do this but...' or 'You know what I am describing but my naughty little sister didn't so I am going to tell you...'

The story I particularly remember listening to was called 'The Birthday Party' and describes my Naughty little sister going to a party at her friend Bad Harry's house. The children sneak downstairs whilst all the 'good' children are playing 'ring-o'-roses' to have a look at the Birthday Tea.
They admire the table set out with sandwiches, cakes, blancmanges, jellies and biscuits and then:

"Bad Harry said, 'There's something else in the larder. It's going to be a surprise treat but you shall see it because you are my best girlfriend.'
So Bad Harry took my Naughty little sister out into the kitchen and they took chairs and climbed up to the larder shelf; which is a dangerous thing to do and it would have been their own fault if they had fallen down.
And Bad Harry showed my Naughty little sister a lovely, spongey trifle covered with creamy stuff and with silver balls and jelly sweets on the top."

The children proceed to dare each other to steal first sweets and silver balls from the trifle, and then the cream and sponge, until finally they are forced to eat the whole thing.

"Bad Harry said; 'Now we've made the trifle so untidy, no one else will want any so we might as well finish it all up'"

They are discovered, my Naughty little sister runs all the way home and both she and Bad Harry are so ill in the night that they never want trifle again.

As quite a good little girl myself, the transgression of this story and others sent frissons of excited appall down my spine. Vicarious naughtiness was very satisying. But despite having loved these books myself, it took me a while to introduce them to Bill and Eddie. I thought they might be too girly or feel dated to revisit. I bought an audio CD as much as out of nostalgia for myself as for them.

I was wrong; they loved them and still love them. They were of course a period piece when I was little and they don't feel any more so now. Bill is both wistful and admiring of the freedom of their childhood (as am I): My Naughty little sister is allowed to roam the local streets and visit her friends houses entirely independently from the age of 3 or 4. She travels on the train in the company of the guard alone at the same age to go and stay in the country. She goes fishing just with her big sister. Their world is populated by helpful adults; postmen, chimney seeps, window cleaners etc. who befriend and look out for them As an adult reader, I am less wistful about the sheer amount of drudgery and female labour described within: Much of their exploits occur when the sisters are left to amuse themselves whilst their mother boils the washing, beats the carpets and scrubs the floors in a seemingly continuous loop.

These books are typeset in such a way as to make them ideal transitions from picture to chapter books for new readers. They also have the added bonus of illustrations (pretty early in her career I think) by Shirley Hughes. I can't remember who read the version that I listened to, a fair few years ago, but I can say that Jan Francis does a great job on our current versions- a big recommendation for audio book fans.

'My Naughty Little Sister's Friends' written Dorothy Edwards, illus. Shirley Hughes, pub. egmont,
 isbn 978-1-4052-5335-2
I should say this is not the volume with 'The Birthday Party' in it- which I've lent out I think- but they're all good!