Hot off the press at Macmillan is this fascinating and engaging first novel.  It tells the story of seventeen-year-old Louisa Cosgrove growing up in Victorian England.  Louisa is disinterested in society, disinclined to marry and dreams of becoming a doctor.  This unconventionality has devastating results as Louisa is committed to a mental asylum.

The novel starts slowly but builds up well and by half-way through I was hooked.  I was fairly sure I’d pieced together the circumstances surrounding Louisa’s incarceration early on and that irritated me.  However, I was fairly completely wrong!

I enjoyed the book and would recommend it to mature teenage readers.  Jane Eagland handles the mental asylum setting and plot well, I think.  But I’m less convinced by the developing relationship between Louisa and Eliza, one of the asylum attendants.  That all seems too facile and disconnected; the novel would have lost little without it.  That said, this is well worth reading.

Ages ago I wrote about Anne of the Island and said that it was one of my desert island books.  I chose the books in question for an article I wrote for the journal Folly.  As I already mentioned, what the books have in common is a strong sense of community and they also form part of my comfort reading.

 

If you’re paying attention it’s quite easy to tell when I’m stressed: I start re-reading certain books.  Most of them are children’s books and many of them are school stories although there are exceptions.  And this month I’ve read lots of them.  Things are hectic at work just now and I’m pretty sad at being back from Norway and away from the sea again.  So, there’s been nothing else for it but to lose myself in my favourite books.

 

Of the children’s authors I collect, my absolute favourite is Dorita Fairlie Bruce.  One of the Big Three (along with Elinor Brent-Dyer and Elsie Oxenham), she wrote fewer and (I think) better books than the others.  I like all of her books but most of all I enjoy her series about Nancy Caird, some of which are set in Scotland and some in England.  The later books in the series are set in Scotland and have a real homecoming feel to them.  It’s the last of them that’s my favourite: Nancy Calls the Tune.  By this time Nancy is grown up and is living in a small town and working as a Church organist.  It’s set during the Second World War and has a strong sense of community and camaraderie.  I’m a small town girl myself and, to a daughter of the manse, the Church setting is extremely familiar and the characters completely believable.

 

On my imaginary desert island I would have to have a Chalet School book but I found it hugely difficult to decide which one.  In the end I chose The School at the Chalet because it’s where it all begins.  It’s the Chalet School I’ve been re-reading recently and that made me realise all over again how much I like them and how difficult a choice it would be if I could really only have one of them.  I think The School at the Chalet has the best descriptions of the setting and it brings Pertisau and its environs back to me whenever I read it.  And, although I’ve fallen in love with Norway’s west coast as brought to me by Hurtigruten, Tirol will always have a very special place in my heart.  There have been many fill-in Chalet School stories written over the years but the first and best of these is Visitors for the Chalet School by Helen McClelland.  It’s a great addition to the series but it’s a good book in its own right too.  It gives a wonderful outsider’s view of the Chalet School and contextualises it historically.  And it has more descriptions of Tirol…

 

I enjoy Elsie Oxenham’s books, too, although not as much as those of the other two.  There was no competition for the one I’d take with me to my desert island (actually, I was going to Westray, one of the Orkney Islands).  It had to be The Secrets of Vairy.  I borrowed it when I was a teenager just beginning to collect EJO and for years afterwards it was the title I aspired to own.  For that reason alone, I wouldn’t be able to leave it behind but I think it’s my favourite anyway.  I was probably about the same age as Patricia, the main character, when I first read it and I could relate quite well to her even though it was set between the wars.  It takes place in Scotland, on the Clyde coast, and I can picture the setting which adds to my enjoyment.

 

These books are my hardcore comfort reads – at least as far as children’s books are concerned.  Another day I’ll tell you about some of the newer children’s books that I return to time and again.  And I’d be interested to know what you read in times of stress…

 

It’s Christmas Day and I am in Tromso in the north of Norway.  Not coincidentally, I have just finished reading The Christmas Mystery by Jostein Gaarder.  I’m reading Gaarder’s books on the recommendation of my friend, Kenny, who thinks they’re great.  He’s been encouraging me to read them for ages and I finally caved in this year.

The first title I read (just a couple of days ago) was The Orange Girl.  Whilst I understand the philosophical point being made, I’m not sure that I enjoyed the book for itself.  The Christmas Mystery was another story altogether, though.  It can be read in many many ways but, as a Christian, I read it as a discussion about the true meaning of Christmas.  And I enjoyed it as a story, too.  I couldn’t put it down; I wanted to know what would be revealed behind each door of the Advent calendar.

I’m not sure that I think these are children’s books, although I bought them in a children’s department.  I’m also not sure (sorry, Kenny) that I’d buy any more of Gaarder’s books.  I enjoyed one but not the other and I’m not sure what I think of the style and quality of the writing.  But that’s a problem as, of course, I read them in translation.  My Norwegian has some way to go before I’ll be able to read them in the original.  Maybe until then I’ll borrow the English translations from a friend…

I’ve been re-reading books recently.  I shouldn’t be as I have piles of proof copies and new books to get through but some days only an old favourite will do.  One of these (although it’s not so old) is Voices by Sue Mayfield.  I really like Sue’s books and I’ve been reading them for a long time.  The first one I read was I Carried You on Eagles’ Wings about 15 years ago (maybe longer).  But my favourite of all her books is Voices.  It was long-listed for the Carnegie Medal one of the years I was judging and it was fairly close to making the shortlist.  

The novel is set around a production of The Tempest and is about Isabel, who is playing the part of Miranda, and Duncan who lives on the island of  Rimsay (clearly based on Barra) in the Western Isles.  Whilst on holiday in Scotland, Isabel sends a message in a bottle that Duncan finds and they start writing to each other.   It sounds as though it’s a fairly typical teenage boy-meets-girl story but Sue Mayfield’s writing lifts it above that.  As a sea-lover in exile, I particularly love her descriptions of it.  And not just the beauty of it either but its power and danger as well.  I think the dialogue is excellent too.  It’s realistic without being tedious to read.

In fact, I only have one gripe about it.  Duncan, living in the Western Isles, tells Isabel that he’s in the Upper Sixth, studying for A-Levels.  Whilst it is possible that he attends a private school where the English curriculum is followed, it’s not likely.  And to a Scottish reader that jumps off the page and screams.   What was the editor thinking of?!

However, that apart, it’s a good book and I am re-reading it.  Not for the first time, either.  I read the sequel, Poisoned, too but I don’t like it as much because I feel it leaves me hanging.  I think it needs a third book to sort out some of the loose ends and inconclusive bits of plot.  But do read Voices.

I’ve never met a book by Linda Newbery that I didn’t like and I see no sign of that changing.  I’ve just read a proof copy of The Sandfather (thank you, Orion) due out in February.  It’s for primary school readers I’d say and I really enjoyed it.  So often I find that books for that age group are either very worthy or else have no content at all.  Happily that’s not the case with this.  Obviously, I don’t want to give too much away but it’s the story of Hal and how he finds what he’s looking for – even though things don’t turn out how he hopes.  The book has an excellent plot and is full of believable characters as you’d expect from something by Linda Newbery.  As an added bonus for me, it’s set in a town on the coast.  And I can smell the sea in it!

I almost never fall in love with picture books.  There have been many that I’ve enjoyed and appreciated and thought excellent but few that I’ve got really excited about.

One of the few is Posy, written by Linda Newbery and illustrated by Catherine Rayner.  Linda has written many children’s books to great critical acclaim and I often get excited about her teenage novels.  Some day, I’ll share that excitement with you!  I don’t pretend to be very knowledgeable about art but I do know what I like (and why) and I am used to judging illustrations in children’s books.  Catherine has only come to my attention recently but I would definitely go out of my way to see more of her work.

So what makes Posy so good?  I think partly it’s because the eponymous heroine is a cat who looks like a real animal.  She’s not stylised or anthropomorphised; she’s a cute, mischievous kitten who chases wool and upsets board games and scratches the sofa.  Anyone who’s ever had a kitten will immediately recognise her!

Catherine’s illustrations somehow convey movement and character (Posy isn’t just cute) and Linda’s poem is rhythmic and concise.  She doesn’t waste a word.  Together they complement each other beautifully.  The book is beautifully produced, too.  It’s uncluttered and appealing from the front cover on.

The lovely people at Walker Books have just sent me a copy of Mal Peet’s new book, Exposure.  I’m a huge fan of his books and I could hardly wait to read this one.  But it might all have been so different had I not been judging the Carnegie Medal back in 2004.

As a judge for the Carnegie Medal, one of the things I learned was how important it is never to judge a book by its cover.  My heart sank a number of times as I ploughed through the longlisted titles.  Often, reading the book didn’t change my initial opinion but there were some glorious exceptions. 

One of those was a thin book with a green and black cover that had a picture of a footballer on it.  The blurb compounded my prejudice by telling me where it was set.  Great, just what I needed:  a story of football in South America.  Not, I thought, my kind of book at all.  However, there was no option but to read it and there wasn’t enough time to put it off.  So I started and found to my surprise that it wasn’t too bad.  I kept going and gradually realised that I was hooked; I really wanted to know what happened and I couldn’t put it down. 

That  book was Keeper by Mal Peet.  In spite of the cover, it is only sort of about football.  I know that’s not good English but it’s true.  One of the main characters is a footballer but, really, that just provides a backdrop for the unfolding action.  The South American setting is more important but that didn’t detract at all from my enjoyment.  We didn’t short list the book but there was general agreement that it was well-written and that we’d like to read more of Mal Peet’s work.

A few months later, I was at the Youth Libraries Group conference where I picked up a proof copy of Tamar, Mal’s next book.  Having a few minutes to spare before the day’s first session, I began reading the first chapter. 

Tamar is a hugely different book to Keeper.  Think of resistance fighters of the Second World War and you will almost certainly have France in mind.  This novel, however, focuses on the intertwined and inter-dependant lives of one cell of the Dutch resistance during the cold, hungry winter of 1944.  It tells two stories: that of the eponymous present-day heroine alongside her SOE agent grandfather’s.  The shift between the two is skilful and unobtrusive, the one often coming as a relief from the other.  For this book is not an easy or undemanding read.  It is powerful and shocking but it is also memorable and compelling.  As Tamar uncovered her grandfather’s tragic and terrible story, I was as surprised and horrified as she was. 

Tamar  was much more obviously my kind of book and I took it into the conference with me and read it all the way through the first session and at other points throughout the day, finishing it before I went to sleep that night.  It has become one of my all-time favourite books and I was delighted beyond expression when it won the Carnegie Medal.  After this Mal Peet came to speak at a number of events I organised and I was charmed to meet him and his wife. 

But back to the books.  Tamar  was followed by The Penalty, the second title (after Keeper) of what are now known as the Paul Faustino books.  It’s much darker than Keeper and, I think, a much more complex novel.  It deals with slavery and the occult as well as football and, like Tamar, moves backwards and forwards in time.

The Penalty  was published in 2006 and so I’ve been waiting more than two years for Mal’s next book.  Exposure is another Paul Faustino book.  Perhaps I should explain who Paul is.  He’s not the main character in any of the books but he always plays a significant role.  He’s a sports journalist working for a respected national newspaper.  He’s a likable character without being flawless.  In Exposure, he plays an important part and was one of the few characters I knew I could trust.

This is another book with a football background; it tells the story of Otello, a brilliant striker who has just joined Rialto.  He is black and from the north of the (un-named) country.  Rialto is in the south and is almost exclusively a white club.  The story is about racism but only partly.  Intertwined with Otello’s story is that of Bush, a street kid.  But the book isn’t just about the chasm that divides these two people.  There’s corruption and deception and lack of trust.  Good people make mistakes and the wicked prosper but the opposite is also true.  And that’s what I liked about Exposure – and what frustrated me.  It’s not neatly tied up and characters don’t all get their just desserts.

Mal Peet’s writing is excellent and the way he manages the different strands of his plot is masterly.  I can’t recommend the book highly enough.  As far as I’m concerned, this is the best of the Paul Faustino books and nearly as good as Tamar.  If it’s not at least short listed for the Carnegie I’ll be outraged! It’s emotionally compelling and realistic and there’s no jarring happily-ever-after ending.  Or, at least, not for all the characters…

A few weeks ago, I was at the Youth Libraries Group conference in Lancaster.  It was a great conference, probably the best YLG conference I’ve been at, and one of the highlights was meeting Morris Gleitzman and hearing him speak.

I’ve always liked his books, especially Two Weeks with the Queen, which I often use with school groups in my Ways Into Reading sessions.  I like it so much that I bought another copy of it at the conference so that I could get it signed.  I’ve never really lost my excitement at meeting authors even after all these years as a librarian.  There’s just something so special about talking to the people who’ve created the books I love.

However, Morris was at our conference at least partly to promote his forthcoming book, Then.  It’s the sequel to Once which tells the story of Felix and Zelda, two children in 1940s Poland.  Once is a good book (I feel I should maybe give that capitals) and it’s a deceptively simple one.  The language is simple and the plot is simple but there’s nothing simple about the book.  It deals with horrific situations and dreadful choices and real-life history.  I think the power of the book lies in its simplicity.  But Then is even more powerful.  It’s published in the UK in January but I have a proof copy.  I have no intention of spoiling the story for you but I do want to encourage you to read it.  I also want to warn you that some of the scenes will haunt you for a long time.  The words might be easy but the book is a very difficult read.  But read it – and remember that some people lived it.

Being in Canada has rekindled my desire to visit Prince Edward Island and re-awakened my passion for LM Montgomery’s books.  My long-suffering sister had to listen to me burbling on about both.  She also had to listen to my memories of the BBC productions of Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea from the 1970s.  If I remember correctly, I read Anne of Green Gables after having seen the show.  I know, however, that I read Anne of Avonlea and Anne of the Island before I saw them dramatised (together as Anne of Avonlea).  I still have my copies of these books with the dates I acquired them written on.  My memory was that I’d read them when I was very young but I can hardly believe just how young I was!  Maybe that’s partly why I’ve always been able to re-read them and find something new in them.

I loved these series and wrote to the BBC to tell them so and to ask them to repeat them.  They never did as far as I remember but they did send me some stills which I still have.  I think UK Gold has shown these programmes but I’ve never had access to it so you can imagine my excitement when I discovered that Anne of Avonlea is available on DVD.  Needless to say, I placed my order immediately and last weekend I settled down (slightly warily) to watch.

Of course it’s showing its age and naturally there’s much missed out but for me age has not withered its appeal.  Kim Braden was always Anne to me and she didn’t disappoint as I revisited old memories.  And crucially, the scriptwriters didn’t mess around much with Montgomery’s stories.  And why would you?  They’re excellent novels at whatever age one reads them.

At the same time as I bought this DVD, I also splurged on the Kevin Sullivan trilogy.  I had seen them when they were shown on tv in the late eighties (I think) and enjoyed them so I was looking forward to watching them again.  Let’s just ignore the third part of the trilogy which is wrong on so many levels and makes me cross even though I think Megan Follows and Jonathan Crombie give good performances.  But it’s not based on any of the books even though there was plenty of material to use.  The first film is, in my opinion, the best of the three.  Whilst not sticking completely to the book, it is recognisable as the novel Lucy Maud published one hundred years ago.  The Sequel is good too but it mixes up Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island and Anne of Windy Willows.  I understand that film and books are different media but, even so, I don’t think it was necessary to do that.  As I’ve said elsewhere, Anne of the Island is my favourite book and I was sorry that all of the Redmond years were ignored in this adaptation.

However, what these films do have is the emotion and spirit of the books.  LM Montgomery has the power to make me laugh and cry (even on the umpteenth re-reading) and so do the Kevin Sullivan films.  The cast is excellent and technically they seem to me superb.  In my view, Megan Follows is wonderful as the young Anne but not quite so perfect in the Sequel.  But she probably suffers from my comparison with Kim Braden who will always be Anne for me.  Jonathan Crombie, on the other hand, is ideal as Gilbert and I can only wish that he had a bigger part in the second film.  He seems to have completely got under the skin of Gilbert as I perceive him in the books and manages to convey both his conflicting emotions towards Anne and Gilbert’s personality beautifully.  To my knowledge, I haven’t seen Jonathan Crombie in anything else but, on this performance, I’d be glad to!

I’ve been reading books by Eva Ibbotson since I was about sixteen.  Whilst browsing the adult fiction in Elgin Library (by this time I was a member of both Lossiemouth and Elgin Libraries) I happened upon A Countess Below Stairs, took it home, read it and loved it.   A few years later, I had a summer job with Moray District Libraries and I spent the first money I earned on all of Eva Ibbotson’s adult novels then available.  Yeadon’s bookshop in Elgin ordered them in specially.

But it wasn’t until much later, when I was working as a school librarian, that I read her children’s books.  They were a great find.  I’ve been reading, and raving about, them ever since.  I like them for lots of reasons but mostly, I think, for the quality of Eva Ibbotson’s writing.  She uses language so well; she almost doesn’t need to describe how someone is feeling or the atmosphere of a situation.  You can feel mood and emotion in the way she puts words together.

I was excited when I read about The Dragonfly Pool and gutted when Macmillan didn’t send me a proof copy.  However, I bought a copy as soon as it was published and then hoarded it for a few days.  I almost couldn’t bear to read it because then it would be over.  Strange?  Well, maybe.  But that’s how I felt.  Was it worth all this high drama?  Of course.

I’m not here to recount the story for you.  Go to the library and borrow a copy if you want to know what happens.  I am here to tell you that The Dragonfly Pool is every bit as good as anything else she’s written (well, The Star of Kazan might be slightly better…).  And again it’s the way that Eva Ibbotson crafts the English language that makes the book so memorable.  She makes her readers feel the innocence and freedom of the English boarding school and contrasts that with the lurking and pervading evil of Nazi-ism in Bergania before returning us to England and exposing us to Tally’s (the main character) despair.

Eva Ibbotson never has to point any of this out to us.  She shows it.  She also shows us places we’ve never been and never can be so clearly that we feel that we know them.   Whenever I talk about Eva Ibbotson’s writing I almost forget to mention that she writes cracking stories filled with believable characters.  She does, of course.  But I might read her books even if they didn’t have great plots just for the joy of living in her sublime language for a while.