achukareviews

This mega-sized non-fiction title is without doubt one of the most striking books about space I've seen. It's superbly well-produced and designed, with high-quality photographs and illustrations. Sparrow's writing is never condescending. It commands respect and attention, and because it's presented in manageable factboxes, even less fluent readers will be encouraged to read for meaning. Presented as a flight through the solar system (with a double page spread given to each of the planets and their moons), the Milky Way and then out beyond our galaxy, it is easy to navigate around.
A white typeface on black page backgrounds contributes to the book's striking impact.
This is a book that will be pored over for hours and is complex enough to provide several years of interest.
I can imagine an inquisitive child given this when he or she is eight years old still finding things to interest them when they are fourteen. Indeed, any adult seeing the book lying around is likely to pick the book up and find likewise.
Pleasingly free of flaps and fiddly bits.
Simply highly recommended.

This wonderfully well-written and assembled history of children's book publishing in America will prove indispensable to all those making a serious study of the genre, but is also fascinating reading for anyone with an interest in bookish affairs.

For me the most rivetting passages in the book fell within the first two-thirds. During the early history it was a joy to come across names familiar to me from the time when I did my research into the friendship between Melville and Hawthorne. This part of the book describes, for example, the first moves of librarians to separate out children's literature from the rest of the stock. As the story moves into the 1920s and 1930s Marcus is good at pointing out the degree to which children's literature had separated itself off from the main culture of modernism.

Several times during my reading I found myself wanting to turn to a few pages of illustrative plates giving portraits of some of the key players in this fascinating story. Margaret Wise Brown is described as "the charismatic ash-blond editor with film-star good looks" - it would have been helpful to be able to turn to a photo to corroborate this description :)

Marcus finds room for some fascinating detail regarding the editors who turned down Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War. The last two decades covered - the 1980s and 1990s - are given brushstroke treatment in comparison with the in-depth analysis accorded the earlier years, but that didn't bother me in the least.

Meticulously indexed and referenced, this is a work of high scholarship written for the general reader.

A big attention-grabbing title with Jeanne Willis's name underneath immediately put this picture book at the top of the waiting pile. The previous collaboration by this pair - Who's In The Loo? - won the Red House Picture Book Award and was overall winner of the Sheffield Children's Book Award. I'd be surprised if this had the same success. I found it rather disappointing. The repetitive narrative is formulaic and the punch-page, when it comes, left me feeling short-changed. The Scary Monster illustrations are great though.

I really haven't much to say about this superb novel of remembrance, other than to urge you to read it. No book this author writes is in any essential sense a young adult novel or piece of teen fiction with a readership confined to adolescents.

Hartnett is the real thing.

So I've finally got round to reading Black Rabbit Summer by Kevin Brooks (now out in paperback).

Perhaps it was just me in the middle of being particularly negative, but I found Being, his first book for Penguin, a touch on the cold side. It was ambitious, different, page-turning, very good... but for me (at the time) it lacked that quintessential Brooks atmosphere that made those first few novels for Chicken House so memorable.

Black Rabbit Summer is back in the groove. Dialogue-driven but also occasionally poetic in its choice of epithet - 'soured silence' - Brooks' style is a joy. I cannot imagine his writing requires any sentence-level editing.

Brooks must remember his own adolescence well to be able to write about teenagers as he does. He remembers in particular how important terrain is. How young people have their own routes for getting from A to B. In particular, the off-road suburban terrain of footpaths, derelict areas, embankments, cut-throughs. He describes these so well. He writes about them as if he were still a 15-year-old himself, dashing through an alleyway.

He also remembers that for 15/16 year olds their 13/14 year old selves are an age away. There is emotional tension at the start of this book between the main character, Pete, and Nicole. They had been boy and girlfriend a couple of years ago, but not since. Meeting in a den before attending a local fairground the group of friends drink and smoke. The tension mounts.

Established early on is Pete's feeling for Raymond, a boy ostracised by everyone else. Raymond is a loner who spends much of his time out in the garden beside the hutch of his pet black rabbit.

Pete's father is a policeman and when people start to go missing following the night at the fair, Pete becomes both investigator and investigated. The second half of the novel is so well plotted and developed one hopes Penguin will have the sense to enter this book for a regular crime fiction award. It's a fantastic read, to be recommended for adoloscents and adults alike.

Marvin the sheep with the big appetite who made his first appearance in 'Marvin Wanted More' makes a second appearance in this picture book. Together with his friend Molly, Marvin happens upon a trees of big juicy apples. Despite the abundance of fruit that the tree is laden with, the very apple Marvin wants most lies tantalisingly out of reach.

Exhausted by his efforts and the patience he has exerted, Marvin falls asleep only to awaken and find that the apple has fallen and Molly is eating it. Transformed and enraged by his anger at this, Marvin sets outon a rampage stamping on flowers, knocking over chicken sheds, frightening ducks and even biting a cows tail - this is one angry, even-toed ungulate.

Amidst a fit of pique, the very grounds open beneath him and the silence, isolation and darkness lead him to consider the folly of his fury. Eventually rescued by Molly, he returns to the pastures where he beholds a fruit laden pear-tree only to discover the very apple he wants most lies tantalisingly out of reach...

Theobold's use of the docile sheep as the cantankerous protagonist heightens the humour of Marvin's rage in this witty book which explores the folly of irrational desires leading those who suffer temper tantrums to feel somewhat sheepish.

The poetic diction of the book's opening immediately locates the microcosm of the lilting ebb and flow of sea sounds and of the various comings and goings of lives lived along the harbour lines. At the heart of the book lies a nameless and homeless kitten whose desire for a place amongst peers forms the premise for the book.

Strengths are the deft descriptions of the harbour and its various component parts, these are explored from the minutiae of fish schools, swimming and circling in the surrounding seas, to the domineering image of the cruiser which comes to dock. The polarity of these extremes is captured adeptly in Ian Benford Haywood's illustrations which evoke, the various movements and motion of the sea.

The novel's evocation of the haughty, proud manner and demeanour of the cats inhabiting the various vessels humorously references the archetypes of sea-life. Implicit in these are feline character traits that will instantly provoke an affinity amongst any and all cat-lovers.

Searching for a home to call her own, the cat's tale is one that is appealing and resonant to all who have considered, even in the vaguest terms, their identity and role in society. A satisfying resolve is marred only, perhaps, by the implausibility of its practicality, but these are small faults in a book that encapsulates a whole world, way of life and method for working out our positions alongside that of others...

The frail, fickle nature of fame has been a recurring theme in Pete Johnson's fiction, in 'I'd Rather Be Famous', astute comment was made as to the types of decision that are driven only by outward appearance, by what others think rather than what we ourselves actually feel. In 'The Hero Game', Charlie's idolisation of his grandfather and his sheer determination to immortalise him are challenged by revelations as to his grandfather's past, that he finds difficult to equate with his present perception of his uncle.

'How to get Famous' sees friends Tobey and Georgia desperately seeking the lime-light but learning the bitter consequences that follow failure and rejection. This is exacerbated further still by the crushing humiliation Tobey faces at an audition in which Georgia is successful. Pressures of personal hopes that are defeated alongside the achievement of friends' achievement places friendship into a fragile context.

In a surprise turn, however, Johnson achieves a twist that demonstrates incisively the spontaneous manner via which we affect and influence others through our actions as compared with the forced nature of acting and rehearsal.

Tobey's comic capers, retold through an approachable epistolary style, make for a humorous and affectionately told story that is elevated through the characteristic social comments and human observations that permeate this author's work.

Barefoot Books have drawn upon the self-same creative sensibility, attention to detail and high production values that have earned them the place as one of the most distinctive and stylish picture books lists, in this their first forray into fiction.

The construction of childhood presented here is a decidedly pastoral one with its kite flying competitions, trips to market and sibling cookery sessions. Behind the surface of this, however, are the shifting political tectonics that lead to Mao Zedung's Cultural Revolution of 1966.

Ramifications of this are both clearly and cleverly drawn through the capture and subsequent decline of a bird which Little Leap Forward keeps trapped in a bamboo cage. The bird's refusal to sing and its inability to fly are consequences of its being held captive away from the natural influences that allow its replenishment. The creeping oppression whose reach is felt towards the end of the novel is wholly juxtaposed by the real sense of hope and liberation that the bird's release and free flight signify.

Gue Yue and Clare Farrow's text is marked by its reflective lyricism. This is complemented beautifully by the sights of Beijing, captured so evocatively through Helen Cann's full-colour illustration plates that intersperse the novel. Combining freedom of thought, action and imagination, this is a welcome first fiction offering from Barefoot Books that leaves one eager in the hope that a subsequent, more regular publishing plan might follow in a similar vein.

The brilliance of this book is its bare faced cheek in taking the Blytonian ideal of a secret society and bringing this bang up to date with Smartie-fart-tube traps, a sassy and irreverant gang name and battle for supremacy against rivals 'The Dockery Gang' played out in a frenetic football face-off.

Following the success of his irreverant style in the teen arena, Anthony McGowan transposes that self-same humour, yet understanding of child social groupings to a younger age range. Fans of 'The Secret Seven' will no doubt recognise several reference points here, not least, Jennifer Eccles, a sister who like Susie is keen to join-up.

Latent concerns about the toilet humour can be flushed aside against the vicarious access here granted to a secret society replete with its own covert initiation rituals... Despite its exclusive membership, this is an inclusive romp that developing readers will race through.