Illustrated by Shih-Yu Lin
A recommendation recommended
I didn’t find this the easiest of books to get hold of, but it was recommended to me by Pie Corbett, whose opinion I value highly, so I persisted. And I am very glad I did. I do hope a lot more (independent) bookshops will stock and promote it, as it is a work of very high quality as well as being of considerable value in terms of inclusion and empathy. It is richly educational in the true sense - and very moving with it.
Authentic voice
And I Climbed And I Climbed is collection of poems mostly couched in the fictional voice of a young boy, Cosmo, who has lost the use of his legs after a fall from a tree. He is now a permanent wheelchair user. Its author, poet Stephen Lightbrown, is similarly paraplegic, so his understanding is deep and genuine, the thoughts and emotions expressed totally and affectingly convincing,
The book as a whole sits, I would say, somewhere between a collection of poems and a novel written in verse. Not many of the poems would work as well stand-alone; they need the context, comparison and contrast of all the others to have their full impact. This is in no way to their detriment, however. What the poem format does is allow the writer to capture the boy’s feelings and reactions with a focused, concentrated intensity that makes them communicate very powerfully. A range of poetic forms are used to considerable effect in capturing vividly a whole range of emotional reactions to, and reflections on, his past, present and future. Together they do not quite add up a fictional narrative (in the way, say, that Matt Goodfellow’s wonderful The Final Year does), but they do allow a reader who works through them to fill in the gaps and build the narrative for themselves. Rather the poems fluctuate between responses, jumping from anger and resentment, to resignation and positivism, and sometimes back again And it is actually this emotional ambivalence, this fluctuation, that adds authenticity. It engenders real understanding, rather than painting a sentimental picture of too simplistic or straightforward a progression towards acceptance. Cosmo’s overall journey is positive, but not easy, and that is a big part of what is important here.
Poignant images
Many of the individual poems are addressed by Cosmo to the tree from which he fell. This tree is often, but not always, the focus of his anger and bitter resentment, and this works well, allowing him to express the excruciatingly difficult feeling (physical and emotional) of finding himself in his new condition. Other poems capture the responses of members of his immediate family and these too too work well to build a moving picture of Cosmo’s situation. This is a fine example of outstanding writing where individual elements build into a remarkable whole. Some of the poems are desperately poignant: ‘Writing My Feelings’, ‘Huff Stop’ and ‘Be Careful With Scissors’ are devastating. Overall (and this book is almost certainly best read as a whole) Stephen Lightbrown’s message and his skilful use of the medium complement each other powerfully.
The same can be said of the direct but effective illustrations by Shiah-Yu Lin. They too are outstanding and skilfully complement the content and intent of the written words. I found the image accompanying ‘What Was It The Table Said!’ particularly affecting,
Like that, like this
This would be a most valuable book in any KS2 classroom. It will help children understand something of the feelings, as well as the needs, of disabled people. Most important, it shows that they remain individuals of integrity and worth who may be shaped, but are not defined, by their disability. It also has the crucial advantage of clearly showing that poetry can be more than just comically entertaining rhyme and word-play. It can be a most effective way of saying and seeing, discovering more of others - and ourselves.
Matt Goodfellow’s book seems to have garnered a vast and enthusiastic following - and rightly so, it is a very fine thing. I think those who respond to it would also appreciate this one. It would be a great sadness, and loss, if Stephen Lightbrown’s poems do not attract at least something of the same attention.