Welcome to Wild Town by AF Harrold and Dom Conlon

Be wild with us

Here is one of my very occasional reviews of a children’s poetry book. I love poetry but it takes a very special new collection to excite me enough to write about it. However, that is exactly the case here.

I shouldn’t really be surprised. Both writers featured here are not only fine poets, but have produced truly wonderful work in other genres too. AF Harrold has written some  mind blowing ( and mind expanding) children’s  fiction recently. My top favourites are the his two novels breathtakingly illustrated by Levi Pinfold, The Song from Somewhere Else and The Worlds We Leave Behind, but the two illustrated equally delightfully by Emily Gravett, The Imaginary and The Afterwards, are also very special indeed. Outside poetry, I know Dom Conlon best for writing the enchanting texts to the stunning  ‘Wild Wanderers’ series of picture books (Run Fox Run, Shine Star Shine, Grow Tree Grow and several more.) He has also authored two excellent children’s books about outer space. 

But here it as poets that they both shine. I have often said that children deserve poetry that is more than just silly rhyme and amusing word play. And that is exactly what Welcome to Wild Town provides It has more than enough amusement to draw children in and entertain royally, but it also has poems to make them think and feel, to surprise, scare or touch them, to see things they have seen before, but see them anew. In here are many poems that have something to say.

For a good many years now, one of my top favourite children’s poetry collections (alongside some by Ted Hughes and Charles Causley) has been Manifold Manor by Philip Gross. This new book reminds me of that one in some interesting ways. It is not really that the poems themselves are similar; they aren’t. It is that both collections are held together engagingly, not only by a shared theme, but by the idea of writer(s) and reader together visiting an imagined place. In this instance it is, of course, ‘Wild Town’. There is a wonderfully entertaining map at the start of the book and the sections of poems not only include ones relating to arriving at and leaving the town, but also ones relating to particular locations on the map. This is an inspired way of enticing young readers into the poems and really adds a delicious extra dimension to their reading. 

Many wilds

The ‘wild’ that these two talented poets explore in the various parts of the town is, like actual wildness, a quite complicated and ambivalent concept. This wild can involve the natural viciousness of creatures killing their food or protecting their young, wildness ‘red in tooth and claw’, wildness perhaps best avoided:

‘growl and prowl and growl and prowl

 the thirsty thunder moon-marked howl

 hide in holes or hide in grass 

 hold you breath until they pass.’    (from WOLF WALK, DC)

but equally it can mean peace and freedom:

‘I’m just lying here

 on the lawn 

 letting the day go,by

 as the sky

 stays still 

 and the clouds drift away,’ (from CALM, AFH)

They sometimes evoke the sheer wonder of nature, as in AFH’s CHRYSALIS HOTEL, or its awesome beauty, as in DC’s WILDFLOWER MEADOW,. This is a stunning little piece that shows just what a poem really can be, the essence of something breathtaking caught in a few simple words. 

Wild at heart

The collection also contains a wonderful range of structures and forms, with some poems displaying simply rhyme and rhythm patterns, others not rhyming at all. Some employ very short lines, others longer. The collection as a whole constitutes a wonderful example to young readers of the manifold possibilities of poetic form. Many could then provide potential valuable models for writing too. 

I love the way that whilst some poems are amusing,  surprising and even wacky (AFH’s THE LAW OF THE WILD, for example) others are strangely enigmatic and disturbing (DC’s GRANDLION). Some are simple, some challenging, and some, lik DC’s WILD GARLIC profoundly affecting. This makes this a collection that not only displays the range of possible forms in poetry but, even more important, shows the potential of its content to convey all the wildness of nature - and of the human heart. And, of course, the influence of the one on the other:

‘So wait.

 Wait until the overhead sun

  erases your shadow

 and walk. Let this landscape 

 draw itself upon your skin 

 marking the heart

 with an X’ (from A MAP OF THE WILD HEART, DC)

And all of this is enhanced by the glorious illustrations from Korky Paul, which are funny, scary, anarchic and, yes, WILD!

Were I still teaching in a primary school, this is a book I would be desperate to have in my classroom. I would share it with children with wild enthusiasm.

And finally

In the mini biographies at the end of the book Dom Conlon is described as a ‘disabled poet’. I could not resist responding, 

A complaint about ‘About’

Disabled poet?

No way,

I say.

Welcome to Wild Town

Does amply show it.

Dom Conlon is

A most able poet.

All The Way Down by Stewart Foster

‘Sometimes I used to think Mum, Dad and the doctors were making plans to take me somewhere, like Wembley to meet the England team. Or Disneyland. Ha! It’s always Disneyland.’ (p 150)

Much more than it appears to be 

Let’s say it straight from the start. This is not simply a story about children trapped underground in a disused mine, even though that is the main thing that happens in it (and compellingly dramatic it is too).It is a story about about loss and bereavement. Centrally, it is about one boy’s struggle to cope with the death through illness of his younger brother. This does not mean it is a morbid or depressing book, quite the reverse; it is ultimately a comforting, a reassuring one. It is tender, often touching and richly sensitive. Although it is completely engaging, sometimes amusing and even entertaining, it speaks about real lives, real children, real issues, and speaks with understanding and compassion. Overall, it is a very fine book indeed.

Both in the later twentieth century and more recently, there have been a number of wonderful children’s books dealing with death and bereavement. (See my review of The Lovely Dark by Matthew Fox from July ‘23.) It may well be a very sad subject, but it is something many will have to face at some stage of childhood, perhaps the loss of a grandparent, or another family member, relative or friend. The loss of pets can be very troubling for some children too. Books like these offer much. Some readers will be able to identify with characters and feelings they find there, whilst others will benefit greatly through empathy and deeper understanding. And now, with All The Way Down, Stuart Foster has added another outstanding title to this important area of children’s fiction. 

The D-word

In his story, eleven-year-old Milo has been emotionally thrown by the death of his younger sibling. He frequently continues to talk to Luke in his own head, often to the exclusion of the ongoing world around him. He hears Luke’s voice clearly, holds frequent conversations with him, and even makes up stories which he reads aloud to Luke at night. In his own way he is keeping Luke alive for himself, shutting out, denying, what he calls ‘the D-word’.

‘Is that how people saw me, an expert on death? I wasn’t that. I was as expert on life. Luke’s life. In the year since he’d gone, I’d never put his name in the same sentence as the D-word. And I never would.’ (p 153)

Milo has been sent to a week-long adventure camp, which is also set up with staff trained to help disturbed children deal with a variety of ‘stuff’. Two of his fellow campers, Oscar and Effie, begin to figure largely as potential friends (maybe!), but each have their own issues too. Stewart Foster’ writing has that superficially straightforward style that actually requires considerable skill. He develops these strongly individual characters with both immediacy and a sense of truth. Clearly he really understands troubled kids, their thinking and their behaviours. Their banter feels completely credible. His evolving narrative sensitively exposes and explores their insecurities at the same time as it develops their relationships in ways that feel completely authentic. It can be by turns funny, troubling and touching - and sometimes all three together.

Heroes?

Yet this masterful writer adds another layer to his intriguing story right from the beginning. In a scene that happens a couple of months later than the camp, Milo and Oscar have been brought to a very large scale, televised ceremony of ‘Awards for Hero’s’. This double layer to the narrative adds extra interest and anticipation, initially raising questions as to why the boys are hero’s, if indeed they are. However Milo is continually distressed by the the fact that Effie, who he believes should be with them, is missing. This drops a heavy stone of misgiving, even dread, into the reader’s stomach, which only grows as the story progresses and we get to gradually discover more of the relationship between the Milo, Effie and Oscar and what precipitated its intensity.

Events at the camp turn very dramatic indeed when, during a visit as one of their activities,the three children (together, of course, with the Luke inside Milo’s head) become trapped in a disused tin mine. This might seem rather extreme, almost melodramatic development. However, actual events in Thailand, in 2018, where the boys of a junior football team were trapped underground, remind us that this can really happen. It may be unlikely, but it is possible. And the reactions of the children, their terror, their blind panic, their desperation feel very real indeed. 

Deep down inside

The experiences, the evolving thoughts and feelings of Milo, Effie and Oscar  are rendered with real insight and conviction. Much of their conversations are what you imagine they would be in the horrendous situation, trivial matters, talk for the sake of talking, to pass the time and to keep up each others spirits.  But in with this are much more interactions, for Milo and for the others. The combination of dire circumstance and the underlying genuine concern of his friends leads Milo gradually to talk about Luke, to ‘read aloud’ the stories he wrote for him and, in effect, to bring him out from his head.

Again the interleaved ‘Awards for Heroes’ strand of the narrative allows another dimension, this time giving an outside perspective from the rescuers and desperate relatives. It is all most cleverly worked. Without, I hope, giving away too much about how the story ends for Milo and his friends, parents, carers and teachers may need to know that it is supportive and reassuring, without being sentimentality unrealistic.

It is a skilfully written, wonderful and important novel that will engage fully but also help enormously to develop  understanding and empathy. Its characters and their issues ring very true. It has its lighter moments and is a thoroughly accessible read, but it is nevertheless a richly serious novel, dramatic but also tender

Just saying. 

Nowhere Island by Tania Unsworth

Illustrated: Kimberley Walker

‘They were no more than a pinprick of light amid the storm. But they were safe. They were together.’ (p 152)

The one before 

Tania Unsworth is another of my favourite ‘children’s’ authors of recent years. Always highly original and inventive, her books often have a rather dark, challenging side to them too. Her writing consistently has remarkable richness and sophistication whilst remaining accessible to her intended audience. (I would say generally about 9yrs through to early teens, although this always depends on individual interest. Certainly, her books have more than enough about then to fully engage many older readers too.) Although always well received critically, I cannot understand why she is not garnering major awards right left and centre. Her books are every bit as special as many that do. 

Her first children’s novel The One Safe Place is, for me, up with the very finest debuts in the genre. Even though the premise at its heart is rather wildly speculative, it is full of wonderfully evoked individual young characters and its highly original story is a paradigm of plotting; every element of its complex denouement carefully but unobtrusively threaded in beforehand. Many a mystery writer could learn much from this disturbing story of children lured to a mysterious ‘Home’. It is thematically rich, inventive and intriguing. It can be amusing, moving and is always deeply thoughtful. I would put it on a par with Louis Sachar’s  Holes and fail to understand why it does not have the same level of recognition. It is high time for a reprint, or better still a new edition. 

The one now

Her latest book is another triumph. It is one of those stories that, as a bald synopsis, probably wouldn’t sound like it amounted to very much. Yet in the hands of this talented writer it amounts to a very great deal indeed. How best to explain it? Imagine Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome crossed with Betsy Byers’ Pinballs, with elements of Katherine Rundell’s The Explorer and a very good dollop of Sara Pennypacker’s brilliant Here in the Real World. That was a way of putting it - not very satisfactory.* Because I don’t imagine you can imagine that. And anyway Nowhere Island isn’t really like any of those; it is very much its own book. I’ll try again. It is a kind of adult-free adventure, with four emotionally disturbed but superficially resilient kids, surviving in an (ersatz) remote wilderness that appears to be an idyllic sanctuary.

Like many of Tania Unsworth’s books, the premise is somewhat far-fetched, a clear fiction, but her story’s characters and their situation feel alive and real through every moment of its telling. That’s because they reflect deeply human truth, the thoughts and emotions of very real kids.

Four on Nowhere Island 

It is a story of children who have been damaged by fate, by life, but principally by the adults who should care for them  (either bad or absent). Gil lost both parents in a mysterious accident and has since been passed from foster pillar to foster post by a well-intentioned but inadequate care system. Brothers Riley and Grayson have run from an abusive, violent single-parent father, whilst the elective mute girl, Pez, has an even more disturbing back story. They are all vividly drawn, their personalities piquantly caught, each idiosyncratic, but nevertheless richly real. 

The four children pitch up in what is in effect a neglected wilderness, an ‘island’ of land that has been stranded between major roads. It may be hard to imagine a near paradise of nature in the middle of a motorway intersection, but that is exactly what Tania Unsworth does, and she conjures the place for us with vivid sensuality.

‘The air was still, too warped by heat to stir, and even the sun seemed motionless, a burning nail hammered into the flat blue wall of the sky.’ (p 130)

In fact Tania Unsworth’s writing is shot through with evocative descriptions, of place, atmosphere and weather as well as of people and events. Yet the compelling momentum of her involving story is only heightened, never abandoned.

The kids scavenge for food, befriend wild animals, witness a crash on the nearby motorway and survive a destructive storm. Through it all they learn more about themselves and each other, about what is important in their lives, and the bonds between them grow into something very special. But it is the story’s most fictionalised event, occurring near the end of the narrative, that actually brings them against the reality of their situation.

Nowhere safe

In this latest novel Tania Unsworth has essentially returned to the theme of her first, the need for children to find a safe place. But what the children in this book find is that their true safe place is not Nowhere Island itself. It is not really a place at all. 

This story may be about children, but it is a deep and resonant tale of human tragedy and resilience. It also touches  affectingly on the healing power of nature and on the importance of story, both as a survival strategy and as an envisioning of potential futures. I will say no more about the plot, except that, whilst the the end may not be realistic, it is nonetheless real - and truly uplifting.

Despite its traumas, its conflicts and its occasional smiles, this is actually a rather quiet, sensitive book, or at least its writing is. But in this it shows the author’s very real talent; that you don’t need to say too much to say an awful lot. It is not only an enjoyable and engaging book but a truly fine work of children’s literature.

More Before

Tania Unsworth’s two previous books, The Girl Who Thought Her Mother Was a Mermaid and The Time Traveller and the Tiger are both still available from Zephyr and are strongly recommended too. An earlier title The Secret Life of Daisy Fitzjohn (published in USA as Brightwood) may be a little harder to get hold off, but is also well worth seeking out.

*Sorry T.S.E.

Where Are You Really From? by Adam Rutherford (with E.L.Norry)

The truth of it

I do not often review non fiction but could not resist this one, brilliantly written by Dr. Adam Rutherford and engagingly presented with copious illustrations by Adam Ming. It is such an important book. Covering science (including anthropology and genetics) history and geography, it very thoroughly explains our origins as humans and how we all come from common ancestors. Most importantly it discusses in detail the origin of ideas of ‘race’, facing up squarely to racism, but fully refuting historical (and sadly some contemporary) ideas about geographical origin and comparative superiority/inferiority. Importantly, its highly moral arguments are fully supported by sound scientific facts. 

Countering prejudice

All of this is done in a lively way, very often amusing, always hugely entertaining, and further enlivened by delightful, ebullient illustration and attractive page design. The authorial voice is not only authoritative but also warm and accessible, explaining sometimes difficult concepts clearly, without ever sounding patronising.* Consequently, this book will broaden and deepen children own understanding. Even more importantly, perhaps, it will give them the knowledge and information they need to be able to challenge and counter any racial prejudice they encounter. As such it is an enormously valuable book. It should be in every library, school and many homes. Parents, carers and teachers should look out for it and recommend it enthusiastically - and they may well learn some things from it too.

*The help of wonderful writer E.L.Norry is perhaps in evidence here? (Her own brilliant MG novel, Fablehouse, is warmly recommended.)

Skellig by David Almond: 25th Anniversary Edition, illustrated by Tom de Freston

A first for 25

David Almond is one of our very finest living writers for young people - and quite possibly for anyone else too. 

Although Skellig is probably by far his best known and most popular novel, it is a long way from being his only great work.  Admirers of Skellig who have not explored his many other titles are missing out on some wonderful, groundbreaking, life-enhancing (and hugely enjoyable) reads.

However, this 25th Anniversary edition of Skellig is something very special indeed. And what distinguishes it most particularly from earlier editions is the new art work  by Tom de Freston. It is, in fact the first time this seminal novel has been illustrated throughout - and the result is just stunning.

Whose images?

Like, I suspect, a good many other people, I do not always want my own imagination, conjured by the written word, to be coloured or even overridden by illustration. This is perhaps particularly so for a novel I already know well. Before seeing this new volume, I might well have said this applied to Skellig. But I now I have no such qualms. This artist’s new additions are nothing but pure enhancement. 

It was Tom de Freston who recently provided the breathtaking images for Julia and the Shark and Leila and the Blue Fox by Kiren Milwood Hargrave. He is no less brilliant here. His  illustrations detract little from the reader’s own imagination, but they most certainly serve to feed it. Intriguingly enigmatic, like the story, they are are often suggestive of characters and scenes rather that explicitly depicting them. They capture mood and emotion, suspense and jeopardy through simple but intensely expressive figures, often silhouetted or part-illuminated against dramatic splashes and slashes of light across darkness. Sometimes even light from darkness! Simplicity, almost crudeness, is their keynote, but it is such a sophisticated simplicity.  I love the protruding legs and feet that provide the header for Chapter One, but am even more awed that this image is repeated in different forms through many of the early pages of the narrative, when so much is about exploring things as yet only partially perceived.

Threads and themes

In fact, Tom de Freston does a brilliant job of echoing the iterative images that David Almond threads through this wondrous story, pointing and reinforcing his themes and  developments. Here are the many birds, nests and fledglings, depicted in nature and as Mina’s drawings, all speaking of  wings and potential flight. I was also delighted by the way that dandelions appear and reappear on several pages; I found the spontaneous, vibrant capture of the plants’ ephemeral seed ‘clocks’ somehow very touching. 

The artist’s images here are always perfectly in tune with the text, whilst adding whole new dimensions of their own. Their impact extends far beyond the flat page and haunts the deep recesses of the reader’s being. They are examples of the sort of work that make the description ‘illustrations’ seem far too small. They are book art, and Tom de Freston is now co-creator with the brilliant David Almond of a truly classic work. 

Credit is also due to whoever redesigned the new typography and page layout of this edition, integrating images and text into such an impactful whole.

The one to have

There was a 15th Anniversary Edition of Skellig, but this 25th commemorative is the one to have, not because it is the latest, but because of Tom de Freston’s haunting images, combined with outstanding design and production. I think anyone who already fondly owns an edition of Skellig will want to see this one too. Anyone thinking of getting one could not find a better. And if there are still (young) readers out there who have not yet encountered this strange, disturbing, glorious, moving novel there could not be a better edition with which to start. (And then do yourself a huge favour and read more of David Almond’s books too.)

Note: At the end of this edition is an interesting new Afterword by the author, together with a brief extract from his much later novel, Mina. Here the girl from Skellig tells her own story. It would make a brilliant follow-up, as well as hopefully opening doors into his other highly original work.

The Piano At the Station by Helen Rutter

Challenging voice

Here is yet another addition to the Barrington Stoke catalogue, the value of which includes its accessibility, but also extends well beyond.

This is an important and most welcome book in that it captures quite brilliantly the voice of a young teen girl, Lacey, whose attitudes and behaviour many adults (and many schools too, I think) would consider ‘very challenging’, if not completely unacceptable. Written in the girl’s own voice, it does this with a brave honesty, reproducing authentically her language and disrespect for authority. Whilst providing the family context which explains her behaviours, it never tries to excuse or apologise for her.  She is, however, portrayed with real understanding so that readers can see the very real qualities of the human being within. 

Engaging reluctant readers

In reality, many similarly ‘challenging ’ young people will be among those who find difficulty with reading or who are are resistant to reading fiction (or indeed anything much at all). If there is to be any chance of enticing them into reading for pleasure then the ability to find themselves represented in a book, without disapprobation, will help enormously. Other young readers too, whatever their reading ability, will benefit considerably from insight into what ‘problem’ students  in their school or class might actually be thinking and feeling. That is why a book like this matters so much. 

(And if there are some adults who think the character depicted  and language used in this book are not ‘appropriate’, then they are the very people who make the book important.)

Reaching out, reaching in

Over and above this, Helen Rutter is such a talented writer, that Lacey’s story is highly engaging and entertaining too. It recounts how a particular teacher succeeds in establishing a positive rapport with Lacey and how she begins to discover something of her own potential through playing the piano. It is ultimately richly heart-warming. And if the book’s upbeat ending is somewhat romanticised compared to much real life, then its positive messages are none the less vital.

This novella may be short in length, but it is long in what it has to say on several levels. There are many things here that parents, carers and teachers should take to heart, as well as young people themselves.

Arts education

Not least is the example it provides of the way Creative Arts provision in schools has enormous potential for supporting personal growth and self-discovery. Arts education must never be allowed to disappear or be pushed out by the ‘core curriculum’. Otherwise not only individuals lose out but our whole society does too - and the humanity of all of us is ultimately diminished. 

That’s not to mention that pianos in railway stations may well provide far more than a casual entertainment for commuters. As the story says: ‘Save our piano(s)!’

Elisa Paganelli’s illustrations are spot on and capture several different facets of Lacey’s personality affectingly. This artist’s depiction of facial expressions may be simple, but it is skilfully effective in communicating authentic attitudes and responses. Her telling images not only aid accessibility considerably but complement the text perfectly.