The Udying of Obedience Wellrest by Nicholas Bowling

Cover: Micaela Alciano

Variety performance 

Some authors make a career of repeatedly writing very similar books. Not Nicholas Bowling.. His output so far had been amazingly varied. His debut, Witch Born was a historical fiction set against a dark background of alleged witchcraft and Elizbethan politics.  He followed that with the Carnegie shortlisted In the Shadow of Heroes, an exciting ‘mythical’ adventure in Ancient Rome. His third title, Song of the Far Isles, was, in further contrast, an enchanting Celtic fantasy, filled with the strains of magical music. And now he gives us a full-blown Gothic Romance in The Undying of Obedience Wellrest.

However, what does link all these books is a consistently outstanding use of language and expert storytelling, providing hugely engaging, entertaining reads.

Undying story

His exciting new title has all the classic elements of its genre. In a gloomy Victorian setting there is a secluded village graveyard with bodies being stolen by ‘Resurrection Men’. There is an ancient, reclusive  gravedigger and his grandson, Ned, one of the two protagonists from whose interleaved perspectives the narrative is  cleverly constructed. There is a crumbling manor with an impoverished owner, whose daughter, Obedience (Bede) is the other protagonist. There is a dastardly villain, Phineas Mordant, physically distinguished by a brass prosthetic nose.This creepy gentlemen seeks to marry Bede, with her father’s blessing, but to the total consternation of the girl herself. There are grim ‘scientific’ experiments in a quest to re-enliven a grisly selection of creatures, body parts and indeed entire, if rotting, corpses. There is an evil alchemist ancestor whose dark, hidden secrets Mordant craves to uncover and others try to protect. 

Bede herself is as feisty and wilful a ‘heroine’ as any of her most independent-minded predecessors, and perhaps even a little more so.

‘Well you gave me the name,’ (Obedience admonished her father.) ‘It’s not my fault if I took it as a challenge.’ (p 54)

Hiding malicious intent behind a facade of slimy charm, Mordant is the perfect boo-hiss villain. It inevitably does not take long for simple, honest, kindly Ned to fall headlong for Bede and develop a loathing for her intended husband. And the girl herself is, of course, not blind to his qualities, despite the stark gap between their social standing, 

‘I had certainly never had a friend who seemed as lonely;’ (she says of him) ‘none who might understand all the strange and sad corners of my soul.’ (p 211)

Bowling you over

There are many delightful inventions of this author too, though. If there is a novel where the hero frequently receives advice and assistance from his loyal and much loved pet fly, I have yet to read it.

However, it is not the originality or otherwise of Nicholas Bowling’s story elements but the construction of his narrative that is so masterly. His language is perfectly evocative of these dramatic characters, dark locations and chilling atmosphere. His plot is replete with twists and turns which take you completely by surprise, cause you to rethink, over and again, all your previous understand of who people are as well as your expectations of what will happen. This means ever more compellingly drawn on to find out how things are going to resolve. It is all just deliciously gruesome, full of thrilling jeopardy and totally compelling.

This new book does not have any pretensions to deeply meaning but it is a must for young gothic enthusiasts from about twelve years old. I think many other readers who like to be drawn into an engrossing story will hugely enjoy it too. Some new to the genre may even be tempted on to explore some of the classics, the original Frankenstein, perhaps.

Micaela Alciano is to be complimented on the glorious cover, which succeeds in being both darkly romantic and strikingly compelling, just like the text. Great to see the fly there too!

Runner Hawk by Michael Egan

Cover: Holly Ovenden

Here is novel primarily for older teens. But it is a truly remarkable one.

Author Pull

I love books that don’t patronise their intended young audience, and this one certainly doesn’t. It is probably not a book to entice reluctant readers, but rather one for the confident and committed. For the right readers, though, it offers rich reward, as well as challenge. It will do much to lead in the direction of full adult literature, stretching awareness of just what fiction can be and do. 

Even the title raises eyebrows. Runner Hawk No verb. No definite or indefinite articles. No comma.  Is it one thing or two? It is enigmatic and rather brutal. Here is a writer who is not going to pander to you, his reader. It slaps you in the face without explaining why. And so, slight affront notwithstanding, it immediately pulls you in. Like title, like story.

That said, this is for the most part an easy, quick read in the technical sense. The challenge, the disquiet, is in the content, not in the language. Except, that is, for an occasional trip up over speech. The author never uses speech marks and only an occasional ‘said’. So it can be difficult to distinguish between what is voiced aloud, what simply thought and what just described. It is as if the author is saying, I am the writer. I do things my way. I won’t bow to convention, or to you. You need to stay with me. So you do. And again you are pulled along. And in. 

There are passages here that feel as if they are directly borrowed from the author’s experience, vivid descriptions of places, incidents and reactions, If they are not actual recollections, then they are conjured with a wordsmith’s skill that conveys intense veracity. Either way they come across as a writing equivalent of hyper-realism in painting. They add a credibility that then bleeds into incidents in the narrative that otherwise seem  bizarre, both to his narrator and to the reader. The building of this tension around what is or isn’t, could or couldn’t be ‘normal’ is brilliantly done. It is a big part of what drives the narrative so powerfully through the early part of a book where, superficially, very little is actually happening.

Frozen Copy

The focus of the text is a first person narrative by seventeen year-old Leo, reflecting with stark immediacy his thoughts and experiences through several days of a severe winter. Apparently a rather isolated, sheltered young man, he is clearly on the verge of physical maturity, but also, perhaps, of mental instability. He is experiencing a disconnect with reality. He reflects,  I’d rather imagine a reality than know one.’ (p 57) He is aware that there is something wrong with him, but can’t begin to understand what. He sees strange phenomenon: a runner motionless in mid-stride, as if petrified; a hovering hawk fixed in the sky, but showing no sign of movement. He experiences disturbing physical episodes, where all or part of his body freezes into complete immobility. He cannot remember things he knows he should, like his previous birthdays and what presents he got. Later, he sees ‘ghost’ figures that cannot possibly be there. Is everything in his mind? If so his mind is decidedly weird. 

Runner Hawk is all very bleak. I rather think a tag cloud for this text would bring out particular words huge and bold (at least that’s how it feels): Cold. Stillness. Seizure. Frozen. Standstill. Separate. Uncertain. Unstable. Beyond Time. Leo seems to have lost touch with truth. Everything around him seems pretence, fraud, not the real thing; a Beatles tribute band, pet dog cloned, lies he feels compelled to tell about himself to keep people happy. 

With consummate skill, Michael Egan draws you into Leo’s disturbed and disturbing experience, and makes it riveting. I do not usually set much store by jacket quotes. But here the one from (the wonderful)  Zillah Bethell has it to a tee. ‘Mesmerising Unsettling’. Yes it is both these. And both simultaneously. Two Words. Exactly So.

Girl Truth

Leo befriends Eadie, younger daughter of the local vicar, and is drawn into a pledge to help her discover the supposed murderer of her missing older sister, Becca. But A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, this book is certainly not. As his budding, but desperately inexperienced relationship with Becka develops, the mystery of her sister, if such it is, becomes only another aspect of Leo’s search for truth and freedom.

Ted Hughes wrote a staggering book of poems called What Is The Truth? That could well be the title of Michael Egan’s novel too, at least for its first two thirds. The question is Leo’s obsession.  ‘I think that’s why I like Lucky Jim. (He says.) It’s all about truth and that’s something I think about a lot. My truth, what it is and how to find it.’ (p 73)

And then the story accelerates down a slope into what feels like a different reality, but has actually been there all along. The villages and fields of affluent, rural Cheshire segue into a vast glass pyramid, blank white corridors, numbered doors that hide clandestine research facilities. It is a world that feels like it belongs to science fiction/fantasy, perhaps because it does. But, for Leo, this is the world where his truth, his reality lies. And, when he finds it, it is a deep, dark, shocking, truth, both for him and for the reader.

Runs Flies

In many ways this book is as chilling as it gets. It is a very hard one to read, in the emotional sense. The back cover suggests comparisons with Never Let Me Go and The Catcher in the Rye that are at least partly valid. It certainly shares the affective desolation of the first of these great books. But it  is ultimately perhaps a little more like the second; at least there is a glimmer of the carousel at the end. Finding Becca’s killer is not so much a goal in itself as a very particular and moving way for frozen Leo to find his own release.

To say much more, would be to say too much more. 

Enough that Runner Hawk combines the sensibility of a true poet with the narrative power of a fine novelist. It may be bleak but it is also beautiful and deeply affecting. It is devastatingly brilliant, and provokes a lot of thought about some of the big issues in life. It runs. It flies.

World Weavers by Sam Gayton

Cover illustration: Dana SanMar

Imagerations

I have been an admirer of Sam Gayton since his first book, The Snow Merchant, back in 2011. He is not the most prolific of children’s writers, but has since kept up a steady flow of titles, all of which have been delightfully original and inventive. Most recently, he has moved into books for slightly older children (upper MG /younger YA) showing the same remarkable flair. His previous novel, The Last Zoo, was an absolute riot of whimsical imagerations (his word). It is glorious entertainment and well worth seeking out for any who haven’t read it. 

Differently the same 

World Weavers is a rather more serious, immersive fantasy, but the author’s original invention is again in full evidence, a compelling attribute in a market where too many fantasies offer only minor variations on the same characters and scenarios. Here there are no orphans suddenly invited to magical schools or plunging through an unexpected portal to find a missing sibling in a  faery world. Sam Gaston’s characters do move between worlds, as happens with remarkable frequency. They use their power as ‘weavers’ to find ways through worlds using ‘waythreads’ and to create things they need by re-pattering the nature of what is around them. His three intriguing protagonists, a disorientated boy and two sisters, are not without personality flaws. One sister is garrulous in the extreme, the other nothing short of truculent. Nevertheless they engage the reader fully in surprising events and encounters. It is all very thrilling and entertaining stuff.

Triple perspective 

Clever writing, which switches perspective to follow, in turn, each of the three main characters,  keeps the narrative developing compulsively. It is a great read from a writer who I think does not always fully attract the attention he deserves. I was delighted to see this book amongst the latest Yoto Carnegies writing nominations and would love to see it in the longlist. (See my last post.) Hopefully this nomination will attract many more readers to a hugely enjoyable fantasy. 

My thoughts on the Yoto Carnegie Writing Nominations for 2024

Here, for what its worth, are my personal choices. Call them predictions, if you like.

For the longlist

Amongst the titles nominated for 2024 are some excellent and highly engaging books. However, truly outstanding titles that I think fully deserve to go onto the longlist are:

Unraveller

Frances Hardinge is a well established star in the firmament of fantasy for older children/teens. Her wild, weird imagination combines with rich and intelligent story building and this latest novel is one of her best.

The Lorikeet Tree

Paul Jennings has long been the go-to name for zany and hilarious short stories, but here he again proves brilliantly that he can do moving and meaningful too.

The Boy Lost in the Maze

Joseph Coelho’s novel in poems is a challenging read for older teens, but it is is richly rewarding in so many ways.

World Weaver

It feels to me that Sam Gayton is sometimes rather under-acknowledged as the fine writer for young people that he is. His entertaining books are always original and highly imaginative and both these qualities are found in abundance in his latest, totally engrossing fantasy. 

Swimming on the Moon

I tend to think that Brian Conaghan is at his very best writing for teens, but, even so, this sensitive MG title is full of truthful understanding about life for many children.

The Chestnut Roaster

Eve McDonnell is one of the most accomplished of our newer children’s writers and this, her second MG title, excels in setting, character, plot and themes. It is an absolute delight.

For the shortlist

Nevertheless, the nominations that, to me, have the most enduring literary merit and/or cultural importance and really ought to make it all the way to the shortlist are:

The Song Walker

Zillah Bethell’s stunning novel draws on First Nation Australian culture for its references and its beautifully written, multi-layered story is full of resonant meaning. Often moving, it is never heavy and its narrative is nothing short of compulsive. This is children’s fiction of the highest order.

Tyger

Alredy deservedly a widely-read children’s author, SF Said has excelled even his own high standards with this devastating novel. Replete with illuminating references to William Blake and other classics, as well as demonstrating the author’s own rich creativity, it lifts children’s literature to new heights.

Wild Song

Candy Gourlay’s story of a First Nation American girl is hard-hitting, disturbing, and deeply moving, although it is ultimately uplifting too. Its harsh implications are equally applicable to the many other instances of aggressive colonialism, which still too often rolls on into disrespect of Black lives today. It is as engaging as it is relevant.

Boy Like Me

This hugely important novel from Simon James Green explores the harm and potential harm done to gay boys by ‘Section 28’ legislation in the 1990s. It is often funny, always tender and deeply insightful. However, it does not shy away from hurtful realities, and carries crucial implications for our ongoing commitment to diversity and inclusion. Far more than just a ‘gay book’, it deserves to be read widely. 

The Door of No Return

Here Kwame Alexander remarkably fuses two generally disparate things, poetry and the epic novel. And he does it with engrossing success. The poetry gives depth of perception and feeling, whilst the overall coming-of-age narrative sweeps through experiences fuelled by African myth and a dream of true freedom. The focus on the roots of much Black culture in Africa is wonderful for many to know and others to share.

Crossing the Line

Another superb ‘verse’ novel, many of whose sections come closer to poetry, Tia Fisher’s detailed capture of a troubled teen boy’s descent into drug dealing and eventually horrendous involvement with ‘county lines’ gangs is a deeply insightful, if harrowing, read. Understanding without being sympathetic, it has real power and will be an important read for many.

If I could, I would give the award to every one of these six writers. Whether the judges eventually agree of not, these are very great books that will engage, enrich and enlighten readers for many years to come. (Many of them are reviewed in full elsewhere on this blog.)

The Puppets of Spelhorst by Kate DiCamillo

Simply profound 

Award-winning Kate DiCamillo is huge in The States and, thankfully, most of her books are also published over here, by Walker Books. She is a rare and remarkable author who frequently writes relatively short novels, apparently simple in content, but that that leave you thinking, ‘Yes, that’s what’s important in life.’. She is a master of gentle allegory and, through it, succeeds in plumbing depths of universal feelings whose expression could so easily come across as simplistic or sentimental. She knows how to make story speak straight to the heart.

Her latest book, The Puppets of Spellhorst is no exception. In fact it is a wonderful example of precisely these qualities.

No strings but close ties

A group of five puppets, a girl, a boy, a king, an owl and a wolf are sold, bought, given away and ‘acquired’. They are wanted for the memories they evoke and for those they can create. They are both regret and potential. They are the freedom of wind through wings, even if the feathers are fixed to fabric. They are wooden teeth that could bite, even if they are replaced and crooked. They are the yearning for destiny. They are undiscovered magic. They are the joy of learning to sing.

Kate DCamillo very cleverly creates eponymous characters that succeed in bridging worlds, and thus bringing those worlds close together. They are traditional puppets, perhaps lovable and almost frightening. They are stereotypes and archetypes. They are enigmatic. They are fascinating agents of storytelling. Yet, at the same time, they are avatars, representatives of our own experiences and feelings. Through them, the novella becomes a sensitive reflection on story itself, on the potential and importance of story and on the relationship between story and life, each playing out the other. It quietly questions whether, despite us wanting to force distinction between fantasy and reality, between puppets and humans, they may ultimately be the same thing. Each is freed by imagination, the same imagination.

Kate DiCamillo celebrates the links between story and adventure, the importance of living the moment, seizing the day, not simply embracing its opportunities, but actively seeking them out. Symbiotically she embraces the importance of family (whatever form it may take), of friends (wherever we find them), accepted for what they are, annoying traits and all. They too are part of our story. We cannot be sold separately. There is no story without us all.

Finishing off

Julie Morstad’s drawn images have the same profound simplicity. They are childishly revelatory, poignantly expressive. They point up and complement the text perfectly . In fact, like the final glorious double-spread image of camel riders, they complete it wonderfully.

Tiffany Aching’s Guide To Being A Witch by Rhianna Pratchett and Gabrielle Kent, illustrated by Paul Kidby

Tiffany

I value Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching series* as one of the finest ever fantasy sequences for children (upwards). Although linked to his wider Discworld creation, it has its own integrity and can easily be read separately. It also has a somewhat different feel to its adult cousins. Although very funny - riotously so at times - the author’s trademark humour is here rather gentler and warmer. His invention is, however, every bit as rich and imaginative . It is also, a slightly atypical fictional sequence in that, whilst the first book is hugely entertaining, it actually develops and gets even better as it goes along, with its final volume a true masterpiece of children’s literature. A lot of what makes it so special is the character of Tiffany herself, who, touchingly human,  personifies what I can only summarise as honest goodness. She is not a goody-goody, but she is truly good. In fact the whole is really a philosophical treatise, expounding an approach to life that is deeply humane. It may sound simple, but is actually profoundly important, for children, and indeed for all of us.

Having said all that, I am not usually keen on publishing spin-offs from popular series. Designed to catch the attention (and pennies!) of fans who miss the original characters and long for more that is never actually coming, they are often pale imitations or regurgitations, and disappoint even that audience.

Pictures

However, I am a huge admirer of Paul Kidby, particularly his Discworld illustrations, so, in this instance, I considered a new volume featuring his work should be well worth buying, if only for the joy of its visual images. And Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch fulfills this aspiration wonderfully. The beautifully drawn images capture Terry Pratchett’s characters to perfection: funny, weird, entertaining, endearing, always deliciously idiosyncratic, yet leaving room for exactly the sensitivity that Tiffany Aching requires. The artist adds much of his own too, and his pictures extend our imagining of this wondrous world enchantingly. Even the vignettes that form the end papers are a fascinating delight, and Paul Kirby’s work makes the whole volume glow with his particular, soft-hued magic.

Text

Now that I have had a chance to read this whole book through, I am going to have to eat my earlier words, because the two authors, award-winning game creator Rhianna Pratchett and talented children’s writer Gabrielle Kent, have made an excellent job of the text too. The pair have very cleverly caught Terry Pratchett’s wit, his sense and style of humour, whilst keeping it in the gentler vein of these particular books. It also reflects wild invention, rich imagination and narrative skill. This new work is consistently engaging and entertaining, in the supposed annotations as well as the main script,  Perhaps even more important, they have reflected beautifully the voice and character of Tiffany, as the supposed author of this fictional guide. Although superficially a series of separate entries and stories, there is actually at least a degree of credible through line development, heading for a satisfying conclusion. What comes across here, just as in the original books, is Tiffany’s fundamental belief that there are more important things in life than magic. Although she loves, indeed revels, in her calling as a witch, it is not because of supernatural powers. Rather it is because of the responsibilities (and indeed the opportunities) it provides in serving her community and fellow human beings. This links to her deep commitment to the natural world and to ‘The Chalk’, in her case the place in which she lives, but actually representing for all of us the link to our landscape and roots, wherever we belong. Her idea of a school for witches  and wizards is typically simple:

‘As you tread the path you’ve chosen you will learn the lessons of those who gift you with their wisdom and knowledge. They will become part of you. . . . As for the school, it’s not a place, it’s all places. Just look around you. You’re already there.’ (p 3)

And then, at the end,  Tiffany’s compassionate but openly honest acceptance of death as a natural part of life comes through clearly. 

In the event, this sumptuous volume is is a fitting tribute to the much-missed Terry Pratchett, and to Tiffany Aching, possibly his loveliest creation.

Memories

This book is certainly not a replacement for, or even the best introduction to, the actual Tiffany Aching novels. If anyone hasn’t read them, my strong recommendation would be to go to the books themselves first. But for those who have read and loved them, this new publication does work rather well, like the memoir of a passed loved one. It serves to rekindle the flame, to reawaken fond and valued memories, and to delight in them anew. Indeed, it could well prove a prompt to go back and read the whole wonderful original sequence again. If so, it will have done a fine job.

* In publication (and reading) order: The Wee Free Men, A Hat Full of Sky, Wintersmith, I Shall Wear Midnight, The Shepherd’s Crown

Gods Don’t Cry by Ellen Ryan

Here is the third of my exciting and enriching ‘myths and legends’ discoveries. (See also my previous post.)

Irish treasures

Last year Ellen Ryan produced an outstanding book, Girls Who Slay Monsters, where she brought back to light ‘lost’ Irish myths and legends featuring powerful females. These were not feminist reworking of traditional tales, but original examples of many different kinds of strength that ‘Godesses’ showed in a whole range of rediscovered stories.

Now she has produced an equally engaging and important follow up in Gods Don’t Cry, more unsung stories of Ireland’s forgotten immortals, but this time male examples. However these ‘Gods’ are not altogether the traditional ‘macho’ type of hero; many show what might have thought of as modern sensibilities. They are not only hunters and warriors, but can be vulnerable and empathetic. They are neurodiverse, with different abilities, outlooks and skin shades. They are sometimes magic but can also be deeply human, rejecting violence, needing others, and seeking to be true to themselves. They are healers, musicians, scholars and activists as well as monster slayers.

Old gods, new men

Like the stories in her previous book, these tales do serve to re-attune readers to Ireland’s rich cultural heritage. However, it is perhaps even more important that they project an image of the potential strength and qualities of boys and men that shatter the stereotype of masculinity. Perhaps they will even help to erode cultures of ‘toxic’ masculinity’. This not only reduces the totally unacceptable threat to women and girls, but also gives support for all boys to be themselves, to discover that it is not only possible, but sometimes important not to feel pressured into behaving as a ‘proper lad’. These gods do sometimes cry, as so, when necessary, can boys.

Compelling images

Gods Don’t Cry is also a wonderfully and magnetically accessible book. The text is strong and clear, enhanced by stunningly powerful illustrations by Conor Merriman which, at the same time, allow space for the vulnerabilities and sensitivities so important to these stories. These images are as clever as they are arresting. Additionally , subtitles, following the God’s name title of each story. highlight the qualities displayed. A helpful summary page for each draws out important fact and clarifies meanings and pages of quotation, in large, bold type, entice the reader into particular stories. 

This is a book to dip into, rather than read straight through. However it is a book to which I hope many youngsters will have access,in schools, libraries and perhaps, at home. I  am sure they will then dip into it frequently and with enthusiasm. For teachers, these tales are a gift for short read-aloud sessions, which will then provoke much valuable thought and discussion.

Heroes for all

Together, these two publications not only show children that they too can be heroes, but help them to explore just what sort of hero they can be. Both books seem to be aimed primarily at a young Irish audience, with the laudable intention of opening up to them more of their own culture. I do hope, though, that the author and her publishers will be happy to share them more widely. Both their deeply important human messages and their richly spiritual resonances are universal. These very special works will serve to develop and enrich the sensibilities of young people everywhere, as well as rightly increasing respect and admiration for Ireland’s splendid heritage of storytelling, traditional and literary.

The Wolf-Girl, The Greeks and The Gods by Tom Holland, illustrated by Jason Cockroft

The impact of myths

As a children’s book enthusiast, I have always been passionate about myths and legends, local ones and global classics. Not only do they contribute significantly to our general culture, but play a crucial role in some of the very finest works of children’s literature. We are lucky to have many outstanding children’s versions of myths and legends both from our own Celtic and Medieval heritage, and from a wide range of other cultures too, particularly Greek, Norse and Egyptian. Thankfully, these are now being extended, with lovely examples from African, Carribean and Asian cultures, too.  Many have also attracted contributions from brilliant illustrators, turning them into truly lovely volumes. The Mab : Eleven Epic Stories from the Mabinogi edited by Matt Brown and Eloise Williams and illustrated by Max Low is a recent example well worth looking out for. (Reviewed here in March ‘22) * 

However, always on the lookout for something new and different, I have been delighted to find several examples of less well-known myths and legends published this year. The first was Amy Jeffs’ children’s version of her Storyland, which I reviewed here in September. Here is the second and I will write up the third in my next post.

Thermopylae with gods

Having said all that, I suppose The Wolf-Girl, The Greeks and The Gods is not actually genuine ‘myth and legend’. However, it reads and feels like it is and, perhaps most importantly, evokes the archetypal resonances associated with the best retellings of ancient story. What expert classical historian Tom Holland has done is take the actual story of the Greco-Persian War and retell it for young readers, incorporating the fictional involvement of the Ancient Greek Gods. In this way he has created a kind of equivalent to The Iliad, notwithstanding the important difference that the historical basis of the war in Homer’s classic is at best debatable, whereas the Persian Wars really happened. Of course, that means purists may well question Tom Holland’s distortion of history, but then all history is story, and the fictionalisation of actual events is commonplace in literature, so I think this new book is a totally legitimate literary creation. It is certainly a most engaging and exciting one.

As well as involving the gods in the action, Tom Holland focuses his tale on a strong female protagonist, Spartan Princess Gorgo, alongside Athenian Thermistocles. Clever and brave, she ensures this ‘new’ epic is more attuned to modern sensibilities, as opposed to those original Greek tales, which so many contemporary authors have felt the need to give a feminist rewrite. However, in ancient tradition, this new narrative remains a true epic, a tale of conflicts and rulers, treachery and triumph, of prophecies and transformations, and of mystical magical creatures whose lives intertwine with those of heroic (and sometimes tragic) mortals. 

Treasurable

Whilst remaining accessible to confident, experienced young readers, Tom Holland’s language beautifully echos that of older texts. As well as providing much independent reading pleasure, it will read aloud wonderfully and add considerable enrichment to the language of those children encouraged to immerse themselves in it. **

Over and above all this, Jason Cockloft’s many striking illustrations brilliantly capture the spirit of this book. His images succeed magnificently in conveying the grandeur of its epic scale, whilst adding the thrill of an engaging contemporary style. Together with its large physical size, this makes the whole book a volume to wonder at - and to treasure.

It is a book for children who can think and dream on an epic scale. The author and illustrator have given them thrilling food for the imagination, a work that will hopefully grace shelves in many homes, schools and libraries for years to come. 

Notes:

*Over recent years, there have bern many retellings by the wonderful Kevin-Crossley Holland. Two stunningly beautiful examples are Arthur, The Always King, illustrated by Chris Riddell and Norse Myths: Tales of Odin, Thor and Loki illustrated by Jeffrey Alan Love.

Another most attractive volume is African Tales: A Barefoot Collection by Gcina Mhlophe illustrated by Rachel Griffin.

I also remain inordinately fond of Gillian Clarke’s translation of One Moonlight Night by T. Lee Jones, illustrated by Jac Jones and of Rosemary Sutcliff’s retellings of The Iliad and The Odyssey, Black Ships Before Troy and The Wanderings of Odysseus, both stunningly illustrated by Alan Lee. 

** To all the primary teachers out there, for enriching and extending children’s language I strongly recommend both Pie Corbett’s Talk for Writing and Bob Cox’s Opening Doors to Primary English. If you don’t know and use the approaches of both these wonderful educators, then you really should.