Illustrations: Ayesha L. Rubino
Euro pean
There is a delightfully eccentric, somewhat quirky quality about some of the best children’s fiction from mainland Europe (as in the wonderful works of Cornelia Funke, Jakob Wegelius and Tonke Dragt, for example) so it is quite enchanting that Dutch-born but Bath-resident author, Hana Tooke, brings more that a little of this continental quality to her UK published novels.
Her first book, The Unadoptables, was a true delight, bringing to a ‘classic’ story of abandoned orphans the author’s captivating richness of characters, an inimitable flair for imaginative invention, and all in the Amsterdam of the 1880s. It is delightfully unfamiliar, sometimes odd, always engaging, and warmly comforting. It has much to say too about individual worth. Perhaps one day she will write her own remarkable story, but for the present, like the fine writer she is, she lets much of it percolate into her books.
Midnight chimes
If I had to find one word to sum up The Midnighters it would be delicious. It would be Black Forest Gateaux (if only the Black Forest were in Bohemia): double-layer chocolate, cream, kirch-soaked cherries, the lot - and with a crumbled Flake on top. (Well, isn’t Bohemian cake a bit like that anyway?) Regardless, it’s just scrummy.
A decidedly different protagonist
The novel’s protagonist, Ema, has a good many insecurities. She feels inferior to all her (many) scientifically gifted siblings, and thinks that those strange talents, or peculiarities, that she does seem to have, are of little worth.
I am an enigma. Not a good, interesting kind of enigma - like the birth of the universe. But the bad, frustrating kind of enigma - like how one sock always vanishes in the laundry.’ (p 31)
Hana Took has a great talent for inventing details that reveal character in a way that is simultaneously amusing and poignant, as when Ema, so fed up of people not noticing her arrival, wears a bell collar in the hope of alleviating her self-perceived invisibility.
In some lovely scenes in the midnight city, following a strange meeting with the mysterious Silvie, she begins to discover more confidence, become more herself. Tentatively fear begins to be ousted by daring, even while new friendship is mixed with intriguing secrets and science starts to mingle with what could even be magic.
Gone girl
However, when Silvie suddenly disappears the narrative deepens, becoming dark enough to thrill young readers, but not so sinister as to disturb them seriously. The whole scene is suffused with tombs, masked, hooded figures and deep, fearful shadows. It tingles with delicious fear, intriguing mystery and makes compelling reading, Nineteenth Century Prague is a wonderful setting for such dark doing, with its long history of science and invention, but also alchemy and magic. This book would be an ideal read for anyone who has visited this wonderful city, but such travelling is not necessary as Hana Tooke paints such a vivid picture of the place; its famous landmarks, including the Charles Bridge and the Astronomical Clock, play their evocative role as background scenery to the mystery.
Gilded murder
Soon, Ema discovers a link between the missing Silvie and a strange ‘Midnight Guild’, and, despite continuing to involve some search for her friend, the narrative shoots off in a rather different direction. It is in many ways what you might call a story of two halves. The covert world into which Ema now intrudes feels initially almost like a children’s version of Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus, except that its various ‘entertainments’ are not so much magic as artifice, contrived spectacles. This exotic location becomes the setting for what is essentially a complex murder mystery, with Ema its bewildered but determined detective. With its large cast of colourful potential suspects, tangled motivations, twists, turns and shocks in the way events play out and a long final scene where Ema gathers all the suspects for questioning and an eventual revelatory explanation, the the thing is very cleverly done and, indeed, worthy of Agatha Christie herself
What pulls the whole story together though is that it is Ema’s new found confidence in her own idiosyncratic abilities which allows her to win the day and reunite her family and friends.
The past is tense
Throughout, Hana Tooke crafts her prose with skill and sensitivity. It is a refreshing pleasure to find another example of past tense narration that demonstrates so clearly that it is not essential to resort to the limiting first person present tense to create a reading experience that is immediate and involving. Here the objective narration adds a great deal to the atmospheric picture painting and the author has a particularly delightful way of conjuring verbal images that are original and surprising as well as vividly evocative.
Drawing us in
Illustrator Ayesa L. Rubio contributes strongly to the atmosphere of the book with her chapter head vignettes and her strikingly lovely cover art is a big part of what makes this initial hardback edition a particularly handsome volume. It is good that she is given reasonably prominent acknowledgment on the back flap.
Proudly peculiar
Overall, what is so special about this book is that it is not really about adventure, fantastic spectacle or even murder and detection. It is about being individual, about being ‘odd’ (in a good way). The wonderful message that permeates The Midnighters is one that needs to be taken to heart by all those who physically, mentally or emotionally do not conform to our society’s concept of ‘normal’, and perhaps just as much by those who think they do:
‘Normal is the biggest illusion of all . . . ,’ says Sophie. ‘I don’t need to be psychic to know that you are splendiferously peculiar . . . We will banish the idea that normal,is something worth striving for. I will make you proudly peculiar.’ (p 87)
This is far more than just another gothic mystery, albeit a very entertaining one. The whole adds up to a multi-layered book with plenty to think about and a strong messages. A further delicate layer is added to the cake by its closing passage, a whimsical epilogue that is yet another of the book’s many delights. The author’s humanity shines out from under this tale’s dark hoods and behind its black masks.
‘Adventures are best served with a drizzle of moonlight,’ says Silvie. (p 54) Or, we might add, with a dribble of midnight. But they are particularly well dished up with a large dollop of Hana Tooke.
Let us all strive to be ‘proudly peculiar’.
