The Consequence Girl by Alastair Chisholm

Cover: Dan Mumford

So far so (very) good

Alastair Chisholm has already given us two fine Sci-Fi fantasy novels for older children/teens. Both Orion Lost and Adam-2 come with my strong recommendation. Like the best of this genre (for any age) they are exciting stories which explore challenging ideas. Adam-2 is also distinguished in that it prominently features a non-binary character, introduced in what to me is exactly the right way for many young readers, not as an ‘issue’ but as a natural accepted and valued member of their society.

However, I found The Consequence Girl to be his best book yet. Here is another fiction from Alastair Chisholm is as thoughtful as it is exciting, without the one ever distracting from the other.  The whole plot is even tighter and structured in a particularly masterful fashion; the questions it asks are more complex, more probing. It compels the reader relentlessly forward, gripped inexorably with fascination and intrigue. Set on what could be an alternative planet, but equally could be a speculative future of our own, he involves scenarios and tropes that have been used before (as most fiction does) but combines these with original elements and ideas and creates a totally credible and involving world. A comparatively impoverished society, ruled by a corrupt autocracy, masquerading as democracy and supported by militarised enforcers, lives with remnants of high tech from a earlier ‘Glory’ people. These ‘Glories’ now seem, to have disappeared completely and are regarded as ‘gods’ by many of the remnant population. 

For the present 

The particularly original and clever invention of this new book is its main character, Cora, the eponymous girl, who can see the consequences of minor changes in action and alter events in the present, at least in small, particular ways. Cora, however, seems to be some sort of orphan, brought up by a ‘guardian’, Seleen, who is determined to keep her hidden from the rest of society. Cora does not really know who she herself is, who Seleen is, or indeed much at all about her world or what is going on it it. Before long a third main character, a boy, turns up. Who exactly he is also gets held back from Cora - and indeed from us as readers. In fact, it is this intrigue as to who characters are and what exactly is going on that provides the compelling driver of the plot. Although  hints and clues are scattered throughout the narrative, and more elements of the plot gradually revealed, Alastair Chisholm maintains, and indeed builds, these tensions in masterly fashion, with many twists, surprises and, indeed, shocks. 

Along the way he vividly evokes both his characters and the half-alien, half-familiar world in which they move. Yet he does so without ever disrupting the momentum of the narrative or dissipating its tension. In fact his wonderfully conjured picture-painting only adds to overall involvement in his narrative. Here is writing that demonstrates considerable skill, without ever showing itself off.

However, what makes this book so very special is that this is not just a thrillingly told story, but is very much a book of ideas too. It is a book about changing the world, and there can be no more important theme for today’s young people. 

For the future

Unlike many a fiction about changing the past, it does not fall foul of the time travel paradox, rather it excavates the actual ramifications for the present of an artificially altered past. As the complexities of the narrative spiral into a vortex of possibilities, it thoughtfully (and at some stages terrifyingly) explores the idea of consequences, of  ‘the butterfly effect’. At the same time as keeping us on the edge of our readerly seats, it really makes us think. Cleverly, subtly, it makes us think about how we need to change our world, about what we can and can’t change, what we should and shouldn’t change. And more than anything what little (or much)we as individuals might be able to do.

The Consequence Girl is up with the very best of what science fiction has to offer. Through wild speculation about alternative or future worlds,  it makes us look carefully at own world, about who and what we are and what it is down to us to do about changing things - and changing ourselves.

Another captivating cover by Dan Mumford not only ties Alastair Chisholm’s three sci-fi books cleverly together, but perfectly captures the allure and potency of this latest one.  It will help attract readers to a very special book. Hopefully, many of them will, like the girl in the splendid image, look strongly, boldly forward.

‘We can’t remake the past. We have to fix the future.’ (p 318)

    

Birdsong by Katya Balen

‘Together the bird and I make a symphony.’  (p 88)

Simply a favourite

Katya Balen is one of my absolute favourite contemporary writers for young people.

That her first book, October, October has recently won both the Yoto Carnegie Medal and Yoto Carnegie Shadowers’ Award is testament that she is many other people’s too. She will be for countless others yet. She is a writer who shows us The Light in Everything.

Her latest title Birdsong has been written for publisher Barrington Stoke, who do such a brilliant and important job in making available quality writing by fine authors that is accessible to less confident readers. Birdsong fits this brief perfectly and so is necessarily a comparatively short book, simply written.

Simply good

But sometimes simple is good. This is one of them. Sometimes deep emotions are best expressed simply. This is one of them. Short in length and simple in language does not always imply lack of depth, potency or poignancy. And it certainly doesn’t here. Sometimes human truths are best expressed simply. 

Katya Balen turns perfection into simplicity. And simplicity into perfection. She can grab your heart and wrench it with a nine word sentence. Even when that sentence is about no more  (and no less) than saying thank you to a bathroom. It makes perfect sense in context. Perfect simple sense. Because this author can float words like the notes of a ravishing Puccini aria. Or a blackbird’s song.

Simply true

What she captures in her simple story are simple truths. True characters. True emotions. The truth of loss. Of anger and pain. The truth of simple, uncomplicated giving and sharing. The truth of music and of nature.

Richard Johnson’s illustrations are an ideal match, nowhere better exemplified than in the simple, subtle near-silhouette of his cover image. 

Birdsong sings in our car crash world and finds the healing, the hope of nature. It finds music in a small patch of wilderness that can once again become the whole wold, if we will only let it.

Katya Belen is one of my absolute favourite contemporary writers for young people.

(Also seek out Richard Johnson’s picture book Once upon a Snowstorm which shows, if anyone needed showing, that  you don’t need words at all to be truly magical either.)

Barrington Stoke novellas to satisfy and reward any reader

The long and the short of it

For me, short stories, or even novellas, do not generally make for anywhere near as satisfying a read as a good novel. Sometimes even writers I greatly admire do not seem to quite hit the mark with these shorter formats. But there are exceptions.

Reading and reviewing Katya Balen’s lovely Birdsong, reminded me of several other Barrington Stoke novellas that not only fulfil that publisher’s important mission of making appropriately aged books accessible to less secure or confident readers, but also provided me with a read that was hugely satisfying and rewarding.

It doesn't always work, but sometimes the need to write straightforward narrative relatively simply results in a potent distillation. Thoughts and feelings are expressed through powerfully concise language. This certainly applies to these titles, each in their own, distinct way. I enjoyed them greatly. There are times and circumstances when a shorter read will fit many children’s needs well and I warmly recommend these stories for any reader.

    

    

And perhaps for a slightly older audience (although individual interest is always more important than actual age when it comes to book selection):

  

    

And then there is the best of the best (if there is anyone out there hasn’t discovered it yet), AnthonyMcGowan’s deservedly award winning Lark (together with the rest of the quartet to which it belongs):

  

Length notwithstanding, Lark is one of the very finest works of contemporary literature for young readers, deserving of classic status alongside Barry Hines’ Kes, and as good as the best of the wonderful David Almond (and in my book that’s really saying something).

The Mab: Eleven Epic Stories from the Mabinogi

Gwlad beirdd a chantorion

The Welsh are proud of their heritage and their stories (well, a lot of them are anyway) and quite rightly so. Even as someone English, and speaking not a word of Welsh (apart from ‘ach-y-fi’which I had to learn once for a school play), I think it is very special and important that the stories in The Mab are included in the Welsh language as well as in English. However I still hope that I will be forgiven (although I may well not) for saying that these tales belong to all of us. I am not claiming that they are English, rather that they are universal. They belong to humanity. And it is wonderful that all children now have a chance to get to know them in such vibrant and accessible new versions.. This is not to take anything away from the Welsh, but rather to acknowledge the debt we all owe to them.

Deep roots and strong

These stories from the ancient Mabinogi are of supreme importance to children’s literature in that they have influenced and inspired some of the very greatest writers of children’s fantasy. To name but a few: Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, Lloyd Alexander, Madeleine L’Engle, Jenny Nimmo. The myth-based imagining of these authors may currently be somewhat out of fashion, but they remain some of the finest ever writers for this audience. I think the reading experience of any child would be far poorer if they never encountered these writers and it behoves all educators to encourage young readers to try them. Knowing the Mabinogi stories themselves is not essential to enjoyment of any of these seminal writers, but it does add many further layers of appreciation and resonance if children do.  

However, this is not the most important reason to keep the stories alive. These ancient tales are a direct conduit to our past; not so much the past of a race as to our shared past as human beings. They are doorways into our individual and collective imagination, and through this into our possible future. And the quality of our future is very much dependent upon imagination, on what, together, we can imagine it to be. Michael Sheen’s poetic and deeply insightful foreword quite beautifully captures the potency of these tales and the whole power of  imagination, fantasy and, indeed, of story itself. He most eloquently provides us with a doorway into their many doorways.

A fresh breeze through ancient branches

It would be misleading to imply that the tales of the Mabinogi, even in relatively recent versions, are always easy for children to access. What The Mab does is to cleanse them of any feeling of antiquated stuffiness, whilst retaining much of their essence and potency. These are now stories which children (or anyone else for that matter) can read with ease and enjoyment, sharing what must surely have been the the thrill and the awe of those who heard them so many ages ago.

Max Low’s stunning illustrations set the tone for the whole book. Fearlessly they strip away the varnish of imposed Romanticism and let the vibrant colours of these tales radiate afresh in images that are arrestingly modern yet somehow still capture the archetypal essence of stories that transcend time. (His pictures have some creasingly funny touches too.)

The contributing authors (and a very distinguished crowd they are) each bring something special to their task of retelling (or reimagining) one of the tales for a contemporary children’s audience.  Matt Brown kicks off, adding  delicious humour, as well as some touches of contemporary sensibility, to the story of monstrous baby-snatching from the First Branch of the original. Sophie Anderson (given what I think is a particularly challenging task) brings a clarity to the convolutions of the Second Branch. Perhaps most importantly, she ensures that Branwen’s loving, pacifist nature shines through the often bellicose and cruel doings of the men who surround her. Following this, Nicola Davies brings the meandering Third Branch alive with some striking imagery and a very welcome strong female voice. Then Eloise Williams produces a magically lyrical retelling of the story of Blodeuwedd from the Fourth Branch, one of the most immediately poignant of the tales, yet manages to lace it with a little wicked humour too.

Knights in white satin (Eh?)

The stories then segue into tales of King Arthur’s knights (but probably not as you know them). And if what follows is not quite Mony Python, then there are times when it is not far off.

Taking this reader, at least, into unfamiliar territory, Darren Chetty majestically charts the exploits of the seemingly self-made hero Predur (a sort of Arthurian Marcus Rashford) whilst Alex Wharton’s waves of delicious word painting conjure beautifully the dream of love that almost, but not quite, conquers the call of responsibility for an Emperor of Rome.

And then, the strangest of these tales. The most haunting. Disturbing. Odd, when odd is a good thing. Zilleh Bethel is a wonderous writer. This is a wondrous telling. Lludd of Londinium. A year passes. A year passes.  A year passes. And then. Wondrous. She elicits Max Low’s oddest image too. When odd is a good thing, of course.

Rhian Ivory gives the puzzling story of the Lady of the Well and her Black Knight a contemporary feel by employing  delightfully anachronistic phraseology and displaying amusingly modern attitudes to its high romantic scenarios.  The brilliant P.G.Bell brings his usual storytelling flair, and no little dry humour, to the satisfyingly rounded tale of Geraint and Enid. Hanson Issa revives the story of ‘The Amazing Eight’.Amazing indeed, this archetypal hero quest, contains the seeds of so many other great fictional ideas, from the powers of Marvel Comic superheros, to the secret opening of the Gates of Moria - and so many important human truths too. It is a veritable kaleidoscope of imaginative invention. Claire Fayers finishes it all off wonderfully, and very appropriately, with a clever story about a story about a story. Just magic.

Mixed metaphor 

The Mabinogion is one of our oldest of tinder boxes for striking the flame of imagination and kindling the fires of children’s literature. Now, in its new guise as The Mab, it flashes again with the brightest shower of sparks,  all set to ignite anew. It needs to be on the shelves of every school and library, as well as in many homes, read and reread for years to come, not only in Wales but on every shore the sea of story washes.

Enjoy these new old tales. Live with them. Do not so much try to understand them as to let them creep into your dreams. And they may well begin to open that door into worlds above, below, within, beyond. 

Footnote: Other books by The Mab writers that I would warmly recommend (although you may very well have already discovered them for yourself):

Sophie Anderson: any, but especially The House With Chicken Legs and The Girl Who Speaks Bear. 

Nicola Davies: The New Girl and The Promise (picture books), The Song That Sings Us

Eloise Williams: any, but especially Gaslight, Seaglass and The Tide Singer

Alex Wharton: Daydreams and Jellybeans (poems)

Zilleh Bethell: any, but especially A Whisper of Horses and The Shark Caller

Rhian Ivory: The Boy Who Drew the Future

P.G.Bell: The Train to Impossible Places (and its sequels)

Claire Fayers: any, but especially Storm Hound

(I previously reviewed many of these titles, if you wish to seek out my more detailed responses on the blog archive.) 

While the Storm Rages by Phil Earl

Cover: Levente Szabo

‘People passing might help a couple of cute kittens, but do you really think they’ll get close enough to rescue three kids, two dogs, a donkey in a straw hat and a python?’ (p 152)

Follow that?

We already had quite a number of children's books set in WWII, amongst them some of the very finest examples of literature for this readership*, but last year Phil Earle still managed to add another highly distinguished title to this group. His When the Sky Falls is an original and moving London Blitz tale of a boy’s involvement with a gorilla left behind in an abandoned zoo. However, this book is powerful, and indeed so popular, than it necessarily begs the question of how successfully the author was going to be able to follow it. 

The answer proves to be quite brilliantly

What no gorilla?

Although the domestic animals that feature centrally in While the Storm Rages do not have quite the originality or cachet of a mountain gorilla (with the possible exception of a python), intense commitment to pets is actually closer to many children’s own experience. So a story about youngsters trying desperately to save their own pets from being unnecessarily put down is bound to capture the attention from the start, not to say pull mercilessly at the heart stings. And this new book certainly does all of that. 

Although set in 1949, and precipitated specifically by events of that year, this one is really not so much a story about the war as it is, at least to start with, more of a children’s adventure (with animals). However it doesn’t altogether stay that way, for, like it’s characters  it grows in richness and power. Phil Earle is above everything a consummate storyteller. However what he offers is more than just entertainment, he has much to say too. 

Just an adventure?

Three  children want desperately to save their adored pets, following a government directive that all animals that cannot be moved out of London should be put down. They hatch an impulsive, well intentioned, but half-baked plan, to take a dilapidated boat and try to sail from their Wapping home up the Thames to Windsor, where they believe they will find sanctuary for the animals.  Initially there is plenty of incident and amusement with the incongruous crew of inexperienced sailors and the small menagerie they manage to collect on the way. Characters, human and animal, and their interactions are vividly conjured; it is all hugely engaging  and the pages turn rapidly. 

However, whilst in some ways , it may indeed be an adventure, it is soon no jolly jaunt. This adventure costs. In real terms. In hunger. In pain. In fear. In very real danger. And the children learn. They learn about life and the value of life. They learn about cost, about death. They learn about each other and, most of all, they learn about themselves. And, as the war intrudes more upon the story, just as it does upon the lives of those in Britain at that time, they and we learn more about some of its dire consequences. This book turns out to be both powerful and poignant,

All’s well?

The tale ends well, as indeed a story for this age group should. But, although we have a good number of children’s books about WWII evacuees, this one brings home some of the realities, emotional as well as practical, more potently than many.

It is another fine work from a fine author and not to be missed.

*Note:  See my post ‘World War II’ on FromTheStoryChair.blogspot.com

Rediscovering JOAN AIKEN

Great but sadly neglected (by me at least)

I have long thought of Joan Aiken as one of the greats of children’s literature. To be honest, though, it is a long time since I read any of her books. She wrote a lot of children’s novels, I mean a lot. Many I have not read since they first came out, and some not at  all. In fact, the only one I would claim to remember in any detail is her classic, The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, and that largely because it was an often-shared favourite of our children when they were growing up.

A chance find in an independent book shop of a (rather tatty) first edition of her Midnight is a Place has now set me off on a twofold quest: to read (or reread) as many of her older children’s books as I can, at the same time collecting their first editions, if I can manage to find them at not too exorbitant a price.

As I go through, I will record my Aiken journey here. However, as I do not wish to abandon my reading and reviewing of contemporary children’s fiction either, and as the physical copies could be hard to ferret out, it may well be a fairly long-term undertaking. 

Midnight is a Place

  

‘Meet me, meet me at Midnight,

Among the Queen Anne’s lace.

Midnight is not a moment,

Midnight is a place.’ (p 237)

I seem to have started my revisiting of Joan Aiken with a slightly untypical book. Her work is often described as having Dickensian elements, but this one goes much further. I think it could fairly be described as full-on ‘Joan Aiken does Dickens’. It does not have anything much of the whimsical fantasy, or the witty humour of much of her other work. Although her northern town location, Blastburn, also crops up in The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, she also moves away here from here from her typical ‘reinvented’ early Ninteenth Century, to a more realistic Victorian, industrial milieu of grime, poverty and child exploitation in ‘dark satanic mills’. Not one but two disinherited orphans (you get your full money’s worth of orphans) stoically endure the worst degradations, and very real mortal danger, working one down the sewers, the other in one of the said mills, before remarkable coincidences of ‘fate’ finally improve their lot. For all its lack of originality this is a gripping story, grippingly told. As a historical piece it has not dated in the way of some writing from this era, and remains wonderfully accessible for young readers. I think they will get far more out of this than trying to read Dickens himself whilst still too young. Joan Aiken’s skilful command of English prose is an object lesson for aspiring writers. It provides so much richer a reading experience than many of the trendy present tense narratives currently so ubiquitous. This is a book that most certainly doesn’t deserve to be neglected. (And what a wonderful title!) 

GLASS TOWN: novels inspired by the childhood imaginings of the BRONTË siblings

(A brief digression from my usual reviews of recently published books)

Childhood imaginings

Children discovering the Brontës* may be interested to explore some outstanding fiction inspired by the stories these famous siblings invented when they themselves were children. This might particularly apply to any keen young readers (or indeed older ones) who have visited the former Brontë home, the fascinating Haworth Parsonage in Yorkshire.

The young Brontës frequently made up games and plays about their own imagined lands and sometimes wrote these  romantic adventures down in tiny hand-made books, which can still be seen in the Parsonage Museum. The four children often took inspiration for their characters from a set of twelve toy soldiers belonging to Branwell, brother to Charlotte, Emily and Anne. Frequently too they centred their fantastically imagined events in and around a place they called ‘Glass Town’. 

The Town

Possibly the most generally accessible of the books based on the Brontë childhood stories is a wonderful graphic novel by Isabel Greenberg, first published in 2020 and called simply Glass Town. Although it does involve some fantasising on the author’s part, it is in fact reasonably true to both the historical/biographical facts and to the content of the children’s imaginings, all put together as a complex and arresting book. 

I know some adults can be rather sniffy about graphic novels, but any prejudice is misplaced. The best can provide  absorbing reads, often offering a good deal of literary and intellectual challenge. It is certainly the case here and this clever fictionalisation is well worth the time of readers of any age from about 10 upward.

The Twelve

Pauline Clarke’s true modern classic (renamed The Return of the Twelves in the US) won the Carnegie Medal back in 1962. It is the first children’s novel I am aware of to take up this Brontë theme. However it is not about the family directly but rather a boy who, a hundred or so years later, rediscovers Branwell Brontë’s set of toy soldiers, ‘The Twelve’. The figures respond to the warmth of his attention and come alive, still with the names and personas the Brontë children gave them. Together the boy and his tiny friends become embroiled in escaping the clutches of an unscrupulous dealer who wished to obtain the soldiers as valuable Brontë artefacts.  The book inevitably now feels a little dated in some respect, but notwithstanding, it is a real gem of a story, original and totally charming. It does not seem to be remembered or read anywhere near as often as it merits.

Clearly this is not a book to entice reluctant readers, but for committed, bookish children, it will provide much of real interest and enjoyment. (Although currently out of print, it does seem that reasonably priced used copies are still around.)

The Game

Of the prose fiction here, this would certainly be the most approachable for many MG readers, although it is a fairly long book. Its emphasis is strongly on whimsical fantasy entertainment. Popular American author Catherynne M. Valence uses the Brontë children as her main characters and the novel starts with its feet securely in the realms of history/biography. Indeed it also employs many of the fantasy characters the Brontës invented. However, the author’s imagination soon takes over and children and reader are whisked into exciting speculative adventure way beyond the original little stories. The writer succeeds very well in maintaining a strong period feel, in action and language, without this ever becoming heavy or pretentious. Within fictional bounds (or lack of them) she develops both characters and plot convincingly and if she plays fast and loose with historical characters, then so did the Brontë children. This book really is tremendous fun and is very much in the spirit, if not the letter, of the real children who inspired it.

As well as a very entertaining read in its own right, the book would work either way: as an interesting follow-up to those who have already started to find out about the real Brontës, or as an initial stimulus for those yet to discover them. 

The Wars

Celia Rees’s book is aimed essentially at a YA readership, although is almost certainly only for the more sophisticated end of this audience, with a style and challenging ‘literary’ complexity well towards an adult model. Published in 2019, it is, I think, the most recent work from a writer long held in high regard and is in many ways archetypical of a late work. Although owing some inspiration to, and often referencing ,the Brontës and their childhood imaginings, it is is no way biographical. Veering between a contemporary setting and wildly speculative fantasy, it is a multi-layered, in-depth exploration of the relationship between reality and imagination. It provides a riveting, if occasionally confusing, reading journey, with a great deal to offer to the right readers. It is certainly interesting to pull out the threads that lead back to the Brontë world and see what a complex tapestry of her own this experienced and undoubtedly talented author has woven from them. 

*Footnote

There are some delightful children’s non-fiction books on the subject. I particularly like:

   

And a brilliant recent publication (just out in paperback):

 

Strongly recommended for older readers, Catherine Rayner’s book is semi-fictionalised but soundly based on biographical evidence:

Fake by Ele Fountain

Cover: Thy Bui

‘Be bold. Question everything. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.’

Ele Fountain’s very real talent (and it is a considerable one) is to write books that heighten awareness of  important contemporary issues at the same time as engaging readers in a completely compelling story. Has she done it again with her latest book Fake?

Fake or Fortune?

The evidence:

Whilst it is not about the Coronavirus pandemic, the fact that it resonates with many recent lockdown experiences and preoccupations make it startlingly potent.

The author never patronises her young readers with excessive exposition or explanation. They are left to infer the world and how it works from what the characters say and do.

Its world is close enough to ours to be simultaneously worrying and completely credible.

It brings into question many things we accept (or could easily come to accept) far too readily: on-line teaching; internet buying; virus hysteria; unnecessary health supplements; computer  hacking; exploitative prices for vital medicine; obsession with technology; virtual finance; the dominance of global tech companies; personal data abuse; social-media ‘friends’

At the same time it joyously celebrates: real books; the natural world; family; music and music making; creativity; real (actual) friends.

It confronts moral issues, without moralising

Its writing and plotting are thrillingly clever.

Its storyline is so compelling that pages turn themselves (metaphorically but not virtually).

You will scream advice at its protagonist, Jess, but she has to learn for herself, just as we all do.

It is deeply disturbing, but hopeful too, without being naively optimistic.

It believes in people not technology and here its hope lies.

If ever there was a book to be read on paper, not on screen, this is it (except perhaps for those deeply into irony!).

It is a must for all young readers from about 10 or 11 upwards.

The verdict:

Fresh, provocative and engrossing, Fake is 100% genuine and virtually priceless (although literally 7.99).