As intended I have gone right back to the beginning of Marcus Sedgwick's oeuvre and have so far managed to re read all of the first three.
Setting aside for the moment his very young children's series, his 'mainstream' novels, have, become increasingly sophisticated and complex, and been aimed at increasingly older readers, as his writing has developed. In this, and in other ways too, he quite closely parallels the writing journey of Alan Garner, although he has actually been considerably more prolific and has never(as yet at least) become quite as obscure as his illustrious predecessor. Despite Garner's undoubted genius and ground-breaking achievements, his later novels are so erudite and abstruse as to make for very hard going.
Marcus Sedgwick's first novel, Floodland (2000), is a short and relatively straightforward story, primarily, it appears, for a readership of around 9-13. It was considered a very notable debut at the time, worthily winning accolades and awards, and if it seems just a little less exciting now it is only in comparison with some of the very remarkable and indubitably great books he has written since. Its subject matter is fantasy only in so far as it imagines a world following serious global warming where East Anglia has been widely inundated to the extent that places such as Norwich only remain as small islands in the sea. How fanciful this may be is perhaps a matter for careful consideration. The story concerns a girl who, separated from her family, refurbishes an abandoned rowing boat and bravely escapes the devastation of Norwich only to find herself stranded on an even smaller island centred on the ruins of Ely cathedral. This 'Eel Island' is inhabited by a ragamuffin band of disparate people scrabbling, and fighting, for survival. They are being dominated by a bully gang of boys with a charismatic but vicious young boy leader. This main section of the novel has many echoes of Lord of the Flies, although, whilst not without its violence, it is never as totally dark and devastating - but then it is for children. More than anything this is the story of the girl's lone fight for survival against hideous difficulty; her quest to re-find her parents and some sort of normality. In this aspect it has something of Morris Gleitzman or Meg Rosoff, although, again, it is never quite as intensely moving as the best of either of these. The greatest strength of Floodland is perhaps its human understanding and its lesson that there is something good to the found in even the seemingly worst of people. It is a promising rather than a great book, but is nevertheless an engaging and thought provoking one and well worth reading. It would make a strong read-aloud for, say, a Year Six teacher looking for something different from the same tired old standbys, particularly if they want to tie-in with an environmental theme.
The novel which quickly followed, Witch Hill (2001), is another very interesting book, probably for about the same age range. It is very much concerned with the landscape and folklore of a particular English place, which, although here fictionalised, draws very heavily upon locations in the South Downs area associated with ancient chalk figures. In this case the place is also imagined as 'haunted' by somewhat later historical associations with the supposed witchcraft of the seventeenth century. Within this context a young boy works out his acceptance of a recent 'real life' trauma, experiencing his family home on fire, and his associated guilt about failing to rescue his little sister. In all of this, it feels in both both style and tone to belong quite firmly within the earlier traditions of such writers as Alan Garner, Penelope Lively and Melvyn Burgess. I do not mean this critically, only that, in this sense, it is not a strongly innovative work, despite being a sensitively written and very engaging one.
However it is with his third novel, The Dark Horse (2002), that Marcus Sedgwick really begins to show his colours as a truly great writer. This book is probably best suited to somewhat older children, although it is not yet the full 'teen fiction' of some of his later works. It is a rich, dark and moving tale; thoughtful yet never less than gripping. It begins to push the boundaries of children's fiction firmly into great literature but without ever losing sight of its audience or sacrificing the need to engage and enthral. The Dark Horse is set in a in a distant past and a primitive landscape that is essentially an imaginative creation although its roots are firmly in well-researched historical and geographical reality. It's world is richly conceived and portrayed; it lives in a very real sense. However it does also belong on the periphery of fantasy. Although not attempting to portray a 'full fantasy' realm, it's small sphere does include elements of magic. The special abilities of its young female protagonist, Mouse, could, at a stretch, be interpreted as no more than an intense empathy with animals, but they often seems to extend well beyond that and therefore beyond mere reality. This adds another intense layer of the exotic, the 'other', to the tale. The actual writing in this book is also far more powerful and bold than in the earlier two; it too starts to push boundaries. Both sentences and chapters are short, almost curt, and add significantly to the harsh, sometimes brutal world created. They also propel the narrative with a visceral urgency. In this book too Marcus Sedgwick begins to play with narrative form, something which is to become an exciting element of much of his subsequent writing. The Dark Horse has a dual perspective, with an authorial, 'objective' voice interspersed with the subjective first person narration of the book's other protagonist, Sigurd. This works particularly well in the early part of the book where the principal voice moves forward the 'in the moment' narration whilst Sig's voice fills in the backstory. However, perhaps the most mature elements in this disturbing book are the moral ambiguity of its characters and its shocking turn of events. The enigmatic ending is strangely satisfying whilst remaining deeply troubling.
This is the first of many great books from a great writer. Hopefully I will revisit and explore more soon.
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