Cover: Izzy Burton
‘Books open all doors. . .
Books unlock all secrets in the end.’ (p 154)
Death Becomes Him
Death is not the easiest of subjects for children’s books. Yet Matthew Fox’s second book is his second title on this theme - and both of them are outstanding contributions to contemporary literature for young readers,
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Despite the challenge, some of the very finest children’s books have, in fact, been about death, perhaps because of the depth of truth and sensitivity it bring out in great writers. Most often these novels have dealt with childhood bereavement, of a close family member or of a special friend. Amongst modern classics to which this applies are Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia and Doris Buchanan Smith’s A Taste of Blackberries. More recently, outstanding titles on this subject have included Karen Foxlee’s Lenny’s Book of Everything and Berlie Doherty’s The Haunted Hills. Last year, Matthew Fox made a strong contribution to this distinguished list with his remarkable debut The Sky Over Rebecca, a tender and deeply affecting story.
There have, however, been rather fewer books about the actual experience of death, about ‘passing over’, stories exploring the possibility, or otherwise, of an afterlife. The House With Chicken Legs (still, I think, the most outstanding title of all the wonderful books from Sophie Andersen) is largely concerned with the passing of other people. A more subjective and quite devastatingly touching view of a young boy’s own after-death experience came in Piers Torday’s little masterpiece, There May Be a Castle. And now Matthew Fox adds to this list too - and quite wonderfully again.
Precisely
As in his previous book, there is much that is both idiosyncratic and remarkable about Matthew Fox’s prose. Relatively spare, with mostly rather simple sentences, and organised into short punchy chapters too, it somehow manages to capture quite perfectly the thoughts and feelings of Ellie, its young protagonist. Her responses to events and people are generally direct but also sensitive and perceptive. The results of this writing is often deeply affecting and makes for a far more immersive and empathetic read than many a fancier or more trendy narrative style.
Really surreal
The author delivers another winning coup early in the story by establishing a very grounded reality for Ellie and her life. The sad death of her grandmother, during the height of Covid lockdown, with no family at all able to be with her, rings very true. This means that when the narrative starts to take a very strange turn indeed, after Ellie experiences her own death, we as readers, are completely hooked into what for her is a continuation of reality, however disorientated. Much of what follows kept reminding me of the way Franz Kafka in his fiction was able to present essentially surreal events in a nevertheless very ‘real’ way, although here, or course, everything is kept at a far more child-accessible level. This extension of ‘reality’ however contrasts sharply with the complete scepticism about heaven or an after-life that Ellie’s grandmother expressed when still alive. This tension is an essential element of the narrative’s subsequent compulsion. The story’s speculations are also helpfully distanced from any specifically religious connotations; it is a book that asks questions about life and death, but not one that offers any particularly dogmatic answers.
Weird and wonderful
The whole subsequent narration of Ellie’s bizarre after-death experience is completely intriguing and keeps the pages turning rapidly. What follows for her can be funny, puzzling, surprising at times quite chilling and tension mounts until her story compels with a vice like grip. However there are softer moments too. The whole is warmed by Ellie’s relationships with other children she meets, not least by her affection for Justin, the close friend who shared her fatal accident. In fact the loving ties that bind Ellie with both her deceased grandmother and her friend Justin are a golden thread that shimmer throughout the weaving of this story.
Lyres and libraries
Another clever strand of Matthew Fox’s novel is the way he draws in elements of existing story and mythology, in particular the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Not only does this myth throw light upon the story of Justin and Ellie, but the reverse is true too. And yet this is no straightforward reworking of the myth, Ellie’s tale is, rather, unpredictable in the extreme. In fact halfway through I though I had cleverly worked out how it was going to turn out, based on my knowledge of the myth, only to be completely wrong footed, by subsequent revelations. It was a thrilling and thought-provoking surprise to be proved so woefully wrong.
Through this story too runs a theme of the importance and pleasure of reading: stories, a library, favourite books. It is wonderful for children to be exposed, even if subliminally, to positive reinforcement of all the benefits that reading for pleasure can bring,
If I implied earlier that this book is about after death experience rather than about bereavement, then that is not completely true. It ultimately contains sensitive and hopeful, but not unrealistic, messages about coping with loss too.
Rest assured
I hope it is not too much of a spoiler to say that this book has a positive and supportive ending, without it being overly sentimental. I think that the parents, carers and teachers of potential young readers probably need reassurance that a story with this subject matter is not in the least morbid or depressing. In fact the warmth and human understanding of its author shine through it like the guiding lanterns that feature throughout his story.
Matthew Fox has now produced two fine children’s books. That makes him well on the way to becoming a great children’s writer. And great children’s writers are great writers, period.
‘Books open all doors
Books unlock all secrets.
Books open all eyes . . .’ (p 254)
This one certainly does.
