Cover: Paul Kellham
Not the only word for it
The brief review quotes so often found on book covers are clearly selected to provide maximum hype and are sometimes to be taken with a pinch of salt. However Katherine Rundell describes The Good Turn as ‘a joy’, and, in this case, I can think of no better word. The book is indeed an absolute joy. But it is also an important and moving lesson in humanity.
High-rise achievements
It is great that we are finally seeing a considerable improvement in diversity and inclusiveness in children's books, in terms of both their authors and illustrators and of the characters represented; books that far better reflect the wonderful richness and heritage of our British society. Supported by outstanding publisher Knights Of, author Sharna Jackson made a very substantial contribution to this with her brilliant and deservedly popular 2019 debut High-Rise Mystery, and its sequel, Mic Drop. What she did so inspirationally was to put Black British children from a low-income background front and centre of an intriguing mystery/adventure. In this she massively helped other recent writers to finally dispel the spectre of Enid Blyton’s white, middle class, ginger-beer-quaffing children as the quintessential protagonists for this type of book.
Mismatched trio
However, her latest children’s novel, with a different publisher, is a rather different book too and, I think, an even better one. From a high baseline, she is already developing as a remarkable writer, without in any way diminishing her wonderful commitment to diversity and inclusion in children’s literature.
Whilst she keeps three Black British children as her principal characters for The Good Turn, this time they are a very contrasted trio of individuals. The whole story is essentially more character-driven than plot-driven, and, for me, revolves around witty, hugely entertaining dialogue and interaction between sparky kids of a type I more readily associate with American children’s fiction (for example, in Laura Ruby’s delicious York trilogy) but is a delight to see here in a Luton setting.
Josie, the book’s narrator, is a bright eleven year-old with big ambitions. One might say she is pretentious, certainly precocious, as demonstrated by her current collecting of university prospectuses so that she can decide which institution will suit her future self best. Although her heart is in the right place and she desperately wants to do good in the world, you could perhaps describe her as bumptious, if bumptiousness can ever be considered amusingly endearing, which Josie certainly is. Her long-standing friend Wesley is far more pragmatic, sometimes cynical. He can lack confidence, even be timid, in some situations, but perhaps it is just that he assesses risk more realistically. The third of the trio, Margot, has only recently moved from London. The fact that she eats sushi and goes to clarinet lessons, much to the bewilderment of the other two, in both cases, gives a good indication of her rather more affluent background. In their different ways these three each have much to say for themselves, and usually do, which makes for delightful and frequently funny banter that is a joyous highlight of the book.
Pledges and badges
In pursuit of her intention to improve, herself, her friends and the world, Josie follows the example of another Josephine, who founded the first Girl Scout troop for Black girls in America, and starts her own, ‘youth group for good’, albeit with only the three members. Her club has an ambitious, decidedly lofty code of moral behaviour. It also has more achievement badges than even Hey Duggee. Even though her club’s early attempts at activities do not really amount to much, the constant delightful banter between its three members is more than enough to keep the reader hugely entertained and engaged.
Despite the lightness of much of the early part of the story, a background of reality is established in that each of the children has a degree of difficulty in their home life, from which their club activity is a partial escape. Josephine, an only child until now, is feeling very put out by the imminent arrival of a new baby brother. Wesley lives in one-parent family with a sickly mother and several siblings, carrying quite a burden of care for the household. Whilst for Margot, who has moved with her father from an extremely well-heeled home in London, following a separation from her mother, Luton is something of a come down, even though she is trying hard to accept it.
Real issues
About half way though, the story segues into something rather more serious. Although the narrative still remains essentially character-led, events do intrude to move those characters on.When the children encounter older residents of their area in rather surprising circumstances, real jeopardy increases considerably for all concerned. As the narrative is drawn out with consummate humanity by this super writer, the children come to learn more about injustice in their society and, indeed, succeed in doing more real good than they may have thought they had. If, by the end, they may seem to have returned to their initial level of club, badge-obsessed activity, it is not really so. In the course of events they have learned more about themselves and grown as individuals. Perhaps their readers will have too.
Joyous and more
This text has a high level of readability that results from a great deal of authorial skill in both language use and narrative construction. Combined with a genuine understanding of children, an awareness of how they think and respond, these qualities make the book highly accessible to a broad readership, who will identify easily with one or more of its vividly drawn characters. The very credible lives, aspirations, strengths and vulnerabilities of its protagonists are all too human. Young readers will enjoy it enormously, be entertained and amused hugely, but still discover and absorb much, about themselves as well as others, in a completely non-didactic way.
When a book contributes significantly to the representation of Black children in fiction it is an excellent thing for all. When it also contributes sensitive insight into scandalous social injustice it is doubly so. When, additionally, it is an fine work of children’s fiction in its own right, engendering the growth of both empathy and self-awareness, it is very special indeed. The Good Turn is everything a contemporary novel for young readers should be and do.
