The Sniffles for Bear

A week late I found the perfect 'ill' book in the library yesterday.

When Eddie was in the depths of his poorly gloom he trailed up the stairs at one point announcing his intention to 'play some sad music on my piano because I am Not Well'. In 'The Sniffles for Bear' by Bonny Becker, illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton, very very sick Bear is similarly in search of melancholy music from his too perky Mouse companion.
'"When someone is dreadfully ill, you sing mournful songs. Everyone knows that," growled Bear. He blew his nose with a honk.'

This is a pitch perfect book in both text and illustration. It captures both the grumpy misery of a cold and the secret pleasure that may be derived from a self pitying wallow in such grumpy misery. Bear droops himself around in a spreading, sighing, notice me sort of way very familiar to anyone who has had to play nurse. Poor Mouse finds that every suggestion he makes is wrong (also rather familiar) and is reduced to transcribing Bear's  dictated will. At least there may be a red roller skate bequest coming for his labours.

When the tables are turned and Mouse becomes the patient at the end of the book, Bear has learned exactly what comfort an ill friend requires. It's a tender friendship, deftly realised.
'Bear carefully tucked him in. "I'm sorry you're ill," he said.
"Tank you, Bear, " Mouse sniffled. And after a moment, he added, "Dat was just the ting."
Bear smiled.'

I suspect this book might be one with particular adult appeal. Perish the thought that the words 'Man Flu' should ever pass my lips but those that have a partner of either sex who requires particularly active sympathy when poorly will find much to enjoy here. Which is not to say that your children won't enjoy it too. It's good for anyone, whatever their age and whether patient or nurse to be reminded that 'this too shall pass.' Nettle soup all round then.

'The Sniffles for Bear' written Bonny Becker, illustrated Kady MacDonald Denton, pub. Walker
isbn 978-1-4063-3653-5

Competition!

My first competition!

Here is the current state of Eddie's end of bed book mountain. Every so often I try and shift some out and back to the shelves at which point meltdown ensues and there is an outraged hour post bed time at which you can hear him muttering and padding back and forth across the bedroom floor to liberate the re-imprisoned tomes.
I just don't want him to die from crush injuries.

So, rather than 'guess the number of sweets in the jar' I'm running a guess the number of books in the bed. Whoever gets the closest will win... A Jar Full of Sweets! or alternatively a copy of whichever book in the pile catches your fancy (although I warn you getting hold of 2010 Scooby Doo annuals may be difficult). That makes sense doesn't it? In the event of a tie break Eddie will draw a name from a hat.

To enter just comment your guess at the bottom, but for reasons of postage I'm going to stick to UK only I'm afraid. If you don't have the right 'id' to comment but still want to have a punt feel free to email or tweet a guess at me and I will add it in for you. Entries will close on Friday at 12ish.

Good Luck. Off to find out the answer myself.

You can click on the photo to enlarge it for a better look. (I know you probably know that already but I didn't for AGES)

Let's Bake a Cake

Go on- let's- we deserve it. First it was the Eddie, then it was the Bill, then the husband and finally the me succumbing one by one to the lurgy last week, until we were all flippetty floppetting in one big flippetty, floppetty pile of lethargy and mild groaning. And it was the Week the Sun Came Out.
bah.
But now the Eddie and the Bill at least are recovered and back to being educated, and the rest of us are on the upward curve, and the sun is STILL out, so celebratory cake is definitely called for. There are one or two birthdays coming up too...

'Let's Bake a Cake' by Ruth Walton is one of a series of non-fiction books published by Franklin Watts that take a pleasingly sideways approach to tackling a range of subjects. Rather than a simple recipe book (although it does include a nice chocolate cake recipe I am pleased to say), it's an investigation into both the science and social geography of cake baking. Each ingredient is considered in terms of both how and where it comes from and why it helps the flavour and consistency of a cake. For flour therefore we get a short history of the process of growing and harvest of wheat, the techniques of milling and the different types of flour that emerge and a consideration of the importance of baking powder in the final product.

It may be sounding like something of a dry cake. In fact the consistency of this book is as moist and aerated as the finest sponge; lifted by bright collage-style illustrations mixed with photographs and lightened by the perfect bite sized 'facts'. I'm a sucker for any insight into factory processes: (one of my favourite CBeebies programmes remains the now venerable 'Come Outside' where Auntie Mabel and Pippin the dog visit a toothpaste factory! or a pencil factory! or a sewage works! and we get to see everything step by step.) I like the page demonstrating the transformation of sugar beet or cane into crystals. It's also a book with a social conscience touching on the importance of the fairtrade label and the differing conditions of working hens.

Eddie's current stated career ambitions are to be a poet and baker; Michael Rosen meets Mary Berry. He was very appreciative of this book; reading recipes out loud is poetry to his ears but it's nice to go one stage back. A primer before he moves on to the Encyclopaedia Gastronomique perhaps.
I'm certainly going to seek out other books in this series; 'Let's Ride a Bike' could be very useful to him; providing a delivery system for both buns and verse.
My only criticism of the book is the strangely miserable face of the Grandma who's doing the baking. Is she reflecting on the mutability of life and another year passing? Is she on a diet? Or is she just bucking the twinkly stereotype like Frank? Lighten up lady- there's chocolate to be eaten.

'Let's Bake a Cake' written and illustrated by Ruth Walton, pub. Franklin Watts, isbn 978-0-7496-8854-7

This is a post for non-fiction Monday, hosted today by the wonderful Perogies and Gyoza; who is all about the football (or 'soccer' if you must) this week. Go visit if you've got a ball-crazed family member.

The Frank Show

Grandparents are often too good to be true in children's books. Twinkly-eyed, apple-cheeked, bun-haired purveyors of baked treats, warm hugs and inappropriate knitwear; they can all seem to merge into one amorphous cipher for Old Person.

'The Frank Show' by David Mackintosh provides a nice antidote to such saccharine blandness. It's 'show and tell' time at school and everyone is required to provide a member of their family to present a talk on. When Mum and Dad are too busy and baby Minnie is too little, Grandad Frank becomes the only candidate in the running. But Frank is tricky; grumpy and apparently dull. He 'doesn't like noise, or today's music, or gadgets and gizmos (or new things), or haircuts, or weather, or doctors or any sort of ice cream that isn't vanilla'. Will his grandson be able to find a minute's worth of material in Frank?

As it turns out (gasp); everyone has a story to tell that's worth hearing if you only take the time to listen; even or perhaps especially, those who've been around the longest. Frank also has (amongst many other accomplishments) a green tattoo, metal in his arm from the war that can tell him when it's going to rain and a real Japanese sword under his bed. A Grandparent who can tell stories becomes a classroom accessory even cooler than a full deck of Modern Marvel Flash Cards.

For me the biggest charm in this altogether charming book are David Mackintosh's witty, busy and slightly subversive illustrations. On one page we are treated to the content's of Frank's childhood memories; a nightmarish mix of tiny clowns, pet crows, suspended crocodiles and gasworks that repays long appreciation. The chaos of both infant school playground and wartime cavalry battle charge are also well observed. Look out for the horse in a gas mask and charging unicorn. And my desire to purchase a jar of pickled onions in the supermarket this week is no co-incidence.

A funny book, a wise book and a beautiful book with just-a-bit-of-a disturbing edge. I'd be happy to show and tell it anywhere.

'The Frank Show' by David Mackintosh, pub. Harper Collins isbn 978-0-00-736400-8

Disclaimer: We received our copy by kindness of the publishers. Our views are our own.

Hero on a Bicycle

A brand, spanking new book by Shirley Hughes? Her first novel you say? Count me in; I think I've mentioned before I'm a bit of a fan.
'Hero on a Bicycle' is a tautly written thriller set in and around Nazi-occupied Florence at the end of the war. Thirteen year old Paolo and his older sister Constanza must tread a careful diplomatic path with both neighbours and occupying forces; their mother is British and their anti-Fascist father has disappeared to join the Partisans.
Paolo however, has a teenage boy's thirst for adventure and his illicit night time sorties on his bicycle soon ensure that keeping a low profile is going to get even trickier. The whole family become involved in hiding escaped Allied prisoners and aiding the local Partisans hiding in the mountains. And as the end of the war draws closer and invading troops arrive on the doorstep, the risks begin to escalate.

It's an old fashioned page turner of the best sort. There are cliff hangers a-plenty and just the right amount of Gestapo officers knocking on doors in the dead of night. Having said that it's also as infused with genuine warmth and humanity as Shirley Hughes' books for much younger audiences. The divisions between 'goody' and 'baddy' are not clear cut and the complications of being a teenager evidently don't disappear just because there's a war on. I particularly like the complicated relationship drawn between Constanza and her best friend Hilaria, daughter of wealthy, Nazi-sympathiser black marketeers: A teenage girl friendship of mutual need/envy coupled with mutual distrust that rings very true.

I think this book is probably best enjoyed read aloud as a family. It has a slightly understated air which might lead to it otherwise falling neglected on a bookshelf by those browsing for flashier delights. But as entertainment to be read around a winter fireplace or a holiday patio 'Hero on a Bicycle' will satisfy and grip all ages together; rather like the best bank holiday old movies. It falls into very nice 'installments' and as any Alfie fan knows, Shirley Hughes' prose is always a pleasure to speak. For those with older children who have fallen out of the habit of a nightly bedtime story this would make a lovely reminder of the pleasures of book sharing. Pack a copy for your next family holiday as a better alternative for evening entertainment to watching foreign versions of 'The Weakest Link.'

"Down in the cellar Paolo was standing frozen with fright. He expected a blow, or two hands reaching out from the darkness to lock in a stranglehold on his throat. But the figure a few feet away remained quite still. All he could hear was his own breathing. Agonizing minutes passed.
'Hello?' he whispered hoarsely. No answer. 'Hello?'"

The book also has it's own website here which is full of interesting titbits and a great film of Shirley Hughes explaining how she came to write the book based on her own experiences.
'Hero on a Bicycle' by Shirley Hughes, pub. Walker isbn 978-1-4063-3610-8

Poorly Eddie and Nurse Matilda

I have a small and slightly feverish boy at home today. Much to the disgust of his big brother who is ALWAYS in rude health and NEVER gets a day off school harumph garumph. Poor Bill.
Eddie is often on strikingly good form when mildly feverish, talking nonsense nineteen to the dozen like the best sort of drunk. I have just abandoned the attempt to read him soothing stories in his bed. He will NOT be read to and will only read TO me. I found myself slowly closing my eyes and drifting off on his pillow as he worked his way through an animated rendition of the puzzle instructions in his Marvel Superhero Annual 2011. Something is the wrong way round here.

I need to enlist 'Nurse Matilda'; Christianna Brand's magical nanny of 1964, illustrated by Edward Ardizzone, and reincarnated in movie form not so long ago by Emma Thompson as 'Nanny McPhee'. Return to source if you don't know the original books. They're marvellous and very very funny; concerning an impossibly large family of impossibly naughty children who must be brought to order by the intervention of a seemingly impossibly ugly and impossibly strict Nurse. Her methods are unorthodox but effective: When her charges are misbehaving she simply slams down her big black stick and terrible consequences ensue until the lesson is learn't.

Thus when the children decide that they won't get up from bed and will pretend they have the measles they are promptly given real measles and find they cannot get out of bed however much they want to.
"They couldn't. They just had to stay there, humped under the blankets- which were suddenly dreadfully hot and scratchy- and their noses felt dreadfully stuffy and they had pains in their pinnies and weren't at all sure that they really going to be sick. And they put up their languid hands to their hot faces and tried to wipe away the spots- and the spots wouldn't go."
To add insult to injury they must then be given Doses of three dreadful medicines; a spoonful every hour ('Hoggig meggikig', said the Baby.), and their lovely lunch of steak and kidney pudding and treacle roly-poly is given away to the village children.
So they beg nicely to be allowed to get up the next day, and Nurse Matilda taps her stick once more and grows a little prettier with each lesson taught.

I should reread this chapter to the boys tonight; in case Bill is getting any ideas about the joys of being sick and to remind Eddie how to really behave When Ill. Looking at him on the sofa now though, I think we can say it may all be catching up with him:

Maybe I'll just read them one of the glorious lists of all the wicked things the children get up to that also punctuate the book:
"'Miss Tora has cut off one of Miss Susie's plaits-'
'-and Master David has made a beard out of it and glued it on to Miss Charlotte.'
'Master Simon 'ave dress up ze dachshoooond in my best Parees 'at, and take eem for ze promenade.'
'Miss Helen has poured syrup into all the Wellington boots-'
'Miss Stephanie has grated up soap to look like cheese, and now poor Cook's dinner does nothing but foam-'
'-and all the other children are doing simply dreadful things too...'"

Then we'll all remember that there are worse things than being either poorly, or not poorly, or having to look after boys who both are and are not poorly. Cure by giggling.

'The Collected Tales of Nurse Matilda' by Christianna Brand, illustrated by Edward Ardizzone, pub. Bloomsbury isbn 978-0747576792

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.