The Wolf's Whistle

If you live in the UK, you may have seen this advert for The Guardian newspaper on TV  recently which sheds light in a playful way, on the 'real' issues behind the story of the three little pigs. I enjoyed this follow up article yesterday by a primary school teacher who has been using it (or perhaps the less gritty print version) to inspire debate and writing in her classroom. Today's choice;  'The Wolf's Whistle' by Bjorn Rune Lie from the ever-inspiring and beautiful Nobrow press would have slotted neatly into her lesson plan; although possibly a little dark and subtle for her six year old class.

This is the first in a promised series of fairy tale back stories; 'Behind the Tails' and I'm looking forward to the rest (we're promised the transformation of 'Hazel' from master patissier to child-eating witch and how a troll developed a taste for goat ragu).
 Albert is a wimpy comic-loving wolf from the wrong side of the docks who is bullied as the scholarship boy at his snobbish school by the three trottered 'Honeyroast' brothers. With his other misfit geek friends; Chauncey mouse, Libby stork and Vincente weasel he escapes the bullies in healthy outdoor pursuits, that will prime him for his waiting destiny:
'Every abandoned railway, forbidden rapid and disused warehouse was their playground. And the best part was: it was all free!'
Albert also dreams of becoming a professional comic artist, developing his own series 'The Wolf's Whistle', where the Lone Wolf battles his arch nemesis the evil Dr. Chorizo. Albert even has his own Superhero cloak ready and waiting under his bed.

Years pass and we catch up with Albert on his 30th birthday,working only as an anonymous dogsbody for his favourite comic publishers. Meanwhile the Honeyroast brothers with their mobster dad 'Al Prosciutto' are running the town in best corrupt gangster fashion:
They 'liked nothing better than to lounge around their pork chop-shaped pool drinking apple cider and stuffing their faces with white truffles'.
When the Honeyroast brothers arrange the destruction of a listed building to further their property empire, Albert's pals perish in the blaze. A despairing Albert sobs on a park bench, then a mysterious hobo hands him a bottle marked 'The Great Hurricane 1938':
'It's mighty powerful stuff. It will give you all the strength you'll ever need...'
It is time for the real Lone Wolf to emerge and avenge.

The subtleties of the references to prohibition America and the Great Depression were obviously lost on Bill, but he understands a Superhero creation myth when he sees one. He spent enough of his early years dressed exclusively as one. As with 'Hilda and the Midnight Giant' this is not strictly speaking a children's book but it has plenty to chew over and appreciate for all ages. Without wanting to sound horribly dry I think this would make a great purchase for a school librarian looking for a low reading level, high interest content book for older kids.
And what a beautiful and inspiring one too which could be spiralled out from in many different directions. All Nobrow books are lovely quality tactile covetable things and the printwork in this is exceptional. Not cheap but definitely worth the investment.

'The Wolf's Whistle' by Bjorn Rune Lie, pub. Nobrow isbn 978-1-907704-03-1

(for those interested in outcomes of Tuesday's caterpillar hunt here are Joseph, Harry, Georgina and Rose , who will eventually become the dull, and nastily named brown beet armyworm moth I think. They are a temporary but much loved addition to the family)

A Butterfly is Patient

All week the sun has been shining in spectacular and very un-March like fashion. Today is set to be the warmest March day for a decade. The boys' school is shut because of the NUT strike and we're set for a picnic and ice creams in the park. In March. Have I mentioned that it's March? March!

I spent yesterday spring cleaning the garden ready to grow food for the slugs (maybe I should just write them a large cheque on cabbage leaves and cut out the Garden Centre middleman?). I saw three butterflies as I was digging; obviously primed to do a little dance in honour of today's non fiction pick 'A Butterfly is Patient' by Dianna Hutts Aston and illustrated by Sylvia Long; presciently selected from the library last week when the weather was still grey and gloomy.

This is a wonderful book from the US, evidently the third collaboration between this pairing who are also responsible for 'An Egg is Quiet' and 'A Seed is Sleepy', both titles I am keen to seek out now.

There are plenty of books that tell the story of the magical metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly but few that do so as spectacularly as this one. The end papers are the first treat; a kaleidoscope of wonderfully exotic caterpillars at the front and their butterfly counterparts at the back. Bill spent a long time matching up the two and picking favourites, enjoying both the diversity of their colours and shapes and the mouthfeel of saying their names ; 'Great Purple Hairstreak', 'Blue Morpho','Ruddy Daggerwing', 'Painted Jezebel', 'Moonlight Jewel'. We loved the disparity between caterpillar and butterfly and the apparent randomness of their pairings; the most spectacular scary red horned caterpillar becoming a small muted blue and green butterfly and vice versa. They are all painted with proper Zoological attention to detail and with a vibrancy to charm even the most reluctant lepidopterist.

The text within has a useful balance of butterfly fact and anecdote to inform without overwhelming; and provide readers with some good snippets of improving dinner table conversation:

'Although Monarchs weigh only as much as a few rose petals, they can fly almost 3000 miles from Canada to their winter home in Mexico.'

'A caterpillar...can grow up to 30,000 times larger than it was when it took its first bite.'

But it is the illustrations that make the book worth seeking out and savouring. The only sadness is that, as this is an American book, the butterflies represented are not to be found in our own back garden. Hmm, today would make a great day for a caterpillar hunt, maybe we can do some home grown appreciation and comparison. We'll post any discoveries on Twitter and see if we can make our own butterfly garden in due course.

'A Butterfly is Patient' written by Dianna Hutts Aston, illus. Sylvia Long,
pub. Chronicle isbn 978-0-8118-6479-4

Operation Alphabet

I think I've mentioned before that Eddie is a boy who likes letters. They were his earliest and best pals. He used to sleep clutching a purple magnetic letter S in his hand and wake howling in the night if it was lost. Walking to the park with him used to be interrupted by his sudden drop, commando style tummy first, flat onto the pavement to 'read' the manhole covers or a crouch down to admire a car numberplate. A well fashioned letter out of playdough or preferably biscuit dough can still cheer him out of gloom when all else has failed.
Suffice to say there was little question whether a book called 'Operation Alphabet' was going to appeal to him or not.

'Operation Alphabet' is written by Al MacCuish, illustrated by Luciano Lozano and designed by Jim Bletsas. I think this is the first time (outside of a pop up book) that I've seen a designer receive equal billing on the cover of a book, but I have to say he earns his place there: This is a gorgeous object; very well designed to make book fetishists salivate (lovely lovely end papers mmmmm, super thick paper aaaaaaa).

It is (confusingly) not an alphabet book. Charlie Foxtrot is suffering from a bad case of the 'alphabet-a-heebiegeebies'. Despite knowing everything there is to know about climbing trees and building dens, about football and space rockets he knows nothing about the alphabet for a forthcoming test (maybe he could do a life skill swap with Eddie). The Secret Ministry of Letters are called to the mission; an elite team under the command of Colonel A, capable of rising to the challenge of revealing the full fun of letters. After an incident packed journey from their secret Whitehall post box home they parachute into Charlie's bedroom to sing, dance, conjour and charm him to full appreciation of their super skill; the power to form words.

"Use letters wisely or use them for fun, one at a time or by the ton.
And every time that you open a book, just think of how many letters it took!"

The story has the shaggy dog quality of a tale you might make up on the hoof to get your children through an improving country walk; lots of twists and turns and a deal of charm. The pictures are delightful; a retro 1950's world of detailed ink, pastel, paint and print recalling Ludwig Bemelmans 'Madeline' or Kathleeen Hale's 'Orlando' perhaps.

Eddie has predictably been thrilled with this book, poring over the pictures of the letters at work to study details of their uniform or see what they are up to in the background of the Ministry. We received some stickers with our copy which I keep uncovering on secret missions of their own in dark corners of the house; (they may just be hiding from our cat of course). Meanwhile I've been worrying about the punctuation marks- who seem to form the blue collar work force under the letters. I hope they're unionised for better conditions and equal status...
We're both hoping for some follow up adventures for this smile- inducing secret spy alphabet crew. I'd like to meet their even more hard working lower case friends too. Here they are at their musical best:

'Operation Alphabet' by Al MacCuish, illus. Luciano Lozano, design Jim Bletsas, pub. Thames and Hudson
isbn 978-0-500-51584-6

Disclosure: We received our copy of 'Operation Alphabet' from the publisher for review. Our opinions are our own.

Owl Babies

The Edible Book Festival has come to a close and the winners have been announced and....and...!

I didn't win. ah tarnation. ;)

It was a pretty much impossible task given the quality of the entries; all of the 74 were in with a shout frankly. The first prize went to an incredibly detailed and beautifully crafted version of Emily Gravett's 'The Odd Egg' with definite wow factor. Congratulations to all the prize winners; 'good bake' as Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood would say.

'Owl Babies' by Martin Waddell and illustrated by Patrick Benson  has always been a favourite in this house. Firstly owls are amongst my favourite and my best; who doesn't love an owl? This, extremely large in the stoneware flesh, one was always my first choice exhibit on regular childhood visits to the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge.

And then one of the main characters in 'Owl Babies' is called Bill and, as we know from my last post, namesakes are always a good shortcut to garner popularity.

But 'Owl Babies' doesn't need any gimmicks to make it a lovely read...and probably doesn't need any introductions from me to you either. It's a quiet classic that has almost certainly found its way into your home already. A proper snuggle-down-and-listen bedtime story to soothe separation anxiety and give a great excuse for some extra mum cuddles.

Three baby owls wait for their mother to return from her night's hunting in a dark wood. As their bravado wanes and the wait seems longer, they huddle together for comfort. Sibling dynamics are beautifully observed from big sister superiority to little brother vulnerability but ultimately the family are united against whatever might  lurk in the darkness.

Mother owl returns; "and she came!", tension dissipates and cosy order is reinstated. The very gentlest of first scare stories for the under fives.

I decided to attempt the cover for the edible book festival partly on the basis that I couldn't find any intimidating versions of it online already and partly because I had a sudden inspiration that I could make them out of cupcakes. This had the advantage of not requiring to much engineering on my part and also we had a school cake sale coming that afternoon so I figured I could just sprinkle them with smarties and sell them anyway if it all went horribly wrong.

It turned out to be fun! My plan to use the orangey bit inside a jaffa cake to make the beaks didn't quite work out as planned but otherwise industrial quantites of buttercream icing hid a multitude of sins. I was particularly proud that the owls genuinely looked a bit scared when I had finished.

As well they might. Taking them to the school cake sale to be torn apart in a flurry of feathers by a hundred grabbing hands made me feel a bit queasy; enough to turn one into a vegecakeatarian.: 'Owl Babies- Version X Rated- When The Mother Didn't Come'...

The original

The cake tribute

'Owl Babies' by Martin Waddell, illus. Patrick Benson, pub. Walker isbn  978-0744531671

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

Her Mother's Face

 I attended the Memorial service yesterday for someone who was a direct contemporary of mine at school. I hadn't seen her for twenty years and she wasn't one of my best friends- but still someone who shared the growing up journey with me and forever memorable to me in the way all old school friends are. She was funny, ditzy and beautiful, as well as kind and forgiving as a teenage girl in a way most of the rest of us weren't especially. She was also the single mother to a 12 year old son.

A clutch of old school friends were at the service. We'd written letters and  memories in advance to turn into a book for her son, who most of us had never met. We wanted to reveal the naughty teenage version of his mum to him (and some pretty unsuitable pictures of illicit fun were also included). Hopefully, it will be something he can appreciate in his own growing up years to come and a reminder of the joie de vivre I'm sure his mum would want him to remember her by.

My letter to him was bitter sweet to write as I also lost my mother at that age.
As it turns out my words had inspired the purchase of a book for me by another old friend, who unexpectedly pressed it into my hands in the church. The book was 'Her Mother's Face' by Roddy Doyle, illustrated by Freya Blackwood.

What she didn't know was that I'd come across just that book in the library a few weeks ago and found myself crying amongst the picture book displays. It's a beautiful, poignant reminder of both  the need to and the difficulties inherent in remembering. Siobhan loses her mother at the age of three and thereafter her father is unable to escape his grief to help keep memory alight. Siobhan searches particularly for a picture both real and imagined  of her mother's face.

'The empty space where her mother's face should have been was like a pain, a giant unhappiness that Siobhan carried with her everywhere.'

But then Siobhan is visited by a strange but comforting woman, who listens to her, dries her eyes and gives her a message for her father that will ultimately liberate him from his grief too. She also reveals that if Siobhan wants to see her mother's face all she needs to do is look in the mirror.

'At first, all she could see was her own face. But she stayed there, looking. And after a few minutes, she began to imagine another girl, very like herself, but not exactly the same.'

Siobhan grows up and has a daughter of her own, Ellen. Then one day when she looks in the mirror she sees a direct reflection of the woman who visited her and realises that (of course) she was her mother and cries.

The gentle message that our inheritance from those we have loved and who have loved us is imprinted in our faces and actions and passed on from generation to generation is beautifully expressed.
Now I can read it with less threat of dissolving, I will enjoy sharing this book with my boys as a way of opening up more conversations with them about their 'missing' grandparents. I particularly like the (almost) ending;

'Siobhan didn't live happily ever after, but she lived a long, long life, and she was happy a lot of the time. Her father lived enough to see Ellen grow into a woman.'

That's all any of us want really.  As yesterday reminded me, it doesn't always work out that way, so I am grateful there are books like this that remind us we remember just by being who we are, and the next generation can thus carry the love and legacy of those they never even met.

'Her Mother's Face' Roddy Doyle, illustrated Freya Blackwood, pub. Scholastic, isbn 978-1-407115-81-8

Small pig

I think it's time for the husband's favourite book to make an appearance; Arnold Lobel's 'Small Pig'.
In some ways, this should have featured during my learning to read diversions of last week as it comes from the classic 'I CAN READ' (I like the urgent capitalisation) series of US origin that seems so superior to the many similar series here. The fact that the 'Frances' books are published under the same imprint gives an idea of the quality of story telling on offer.
 I'm split as to whether it's a good thing that they are 'leveled' and marketed as 'readers' or whether that again turns them into work to be joylessly ticked off and progressed through for the reader. In truth I suppose, it depends on the child. Still; hurray for the quality of 'em.

This is the only book from his childhood library that still accompanies the husband- and from his account it certainly wasn't something he read and reread as 'work' even if it originally went on the bookshelf for his Improvement. It's also one of the few pieces of fiction he references from childhood before he turned (in the manner of many boys) to reading the encyclopaedia instead. He's really useful on country walks in explaining the geological formation of landscape or  the differences between Aztecs and Incas but he knows nowt about Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Small pig lives on a farm, beloved by both farmer and farmer's wife. He leads a peaceful life where his greatest pleasure is to 'sit down and sink down in good, soft, mud.' Then, one fateful day, the urge to clean and tidy comes upon the farmer's wife and she washes the pig and hoovers all his good mud away (never a good idea to clean see?). Small pig becomes angry (there's a great picture); 'This place is too neat and shiny for me'. He runs away.
But the quest to find a satisfactory new puddle of mud proves harder than he expects; until he arrives in the city and finds a lovely pool of fresh cement. Small pig becomes stuck in the pavement and a crowd gathers.

'The farmer and his wife drive by in their car. "Look at that big crowd of people," says the farmer. "Let's stop and see what is happening."
"All right," says the farmer's wife, "but hurry. We must keep looking for our lost pig."
The farmer stops the car. "What is happening here?" he asks a man.
"Oh nothing much," says the man.
"There is just a pig stuck in the pavement."'

With the help of the fire brigade the family are reunited and the farmer's wife promises never to clean  the mud away again.

Funnily enough, the future of a small male pig on a farm is not elucidated.

Lobel's illustrations animate pig's pleasures and furies beyond the simplicity of his 'easy reading' words. It's just plain delightful in combination. The husband has great taste. Of course he does.

'Small Pig' by Arnold Lobel, pub. Harper Collins isbn 978-0064441209