ACHUKAREVIEWS...

Oranges In No Man’s Land tells the tale of Ayesha, a young girl whose mother was killed in the war and now lives in a crowded squat along with a host of other fugitives from the fighting.

With her father abroad trying to find work, the key figure in her life is her granny. But when granny’s medicine starts to run out with serious implications, Ayesha has to visit the doctors to restock her supplies.

The problem is that the doctor who supplied them lives on the other side of town, in enemy territory.

This is a book that portrays well the bravery required by those who live in such tragic circumstances and the quick wittedness needed to stay out of trouble.

For adults who grew up on the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew this book redefines those adventures as the stuff of comics. For the target audience it puts any complaints that “life’s not fair” into their real perspective.

There’s been a fair bit of comment about teen books that portray the darker side of life but this book brings the reality of war and displacement home to a much younger audience.

For Sapphy the battle is two-way rather than four, will the earth part of her nature ever manage to control the water elements that long to take her to sea? In Helen Dunmore’s second novel set in the world of Ingo, Sapphy continues the battle that her father lost in the first volume of the series.

With her father gone, her mother has found a new partner and moved the family from the cottage by the cove to the nearby but less hospitable St Pirans.

While her brother Conor is willing to give the new lifestyle a go, Sapphy is less willing. Her reluctance is not helped by the fact that her “friends” in Ingo continue to call her to the Cornish sea.

However, they are not entirely benevolent spirits, danger lurks every time she goes to sea, from sharks and the risk that she become too comfortable in the water. The watery voices are at best ambivalent about the fate of the humans who inhabit the shoreline.

Among the watery beasts are those who would wish the sea to destroy the settlements of man and destruction of the Tide Knot – the complex formation that ensures the tides fall as well as rise – leads to disaster.

St Pirans is flooded and the pair are called upon to go to sea to help resolve the situation as Ingo dwellers realise that the demise of the tides is not all good news.

The Tide Knot is an engaging standalone read but it would benefit a little from having read the first volume as the back story to some of the relationships – notably that between Conor and Elvira – would be useful.

That’s a minor point, however, as the character of the land and its relationship with the sea are at the heart of a lyrical and enchanting book.

For Susanna and Will these challenges are doubly difficult to bear. She is in Shropshire and he is in London, it is 1665 and there is no National Express coach to bring them together.

To make matters worse just as they were about to be joined reunited and married the plague breaks out in London, trapping Will in the festering, sickening city.

And like all young couples, the affairs of love are never smooth, a misunderstanding when they finally meet threatens the whole relationship.

If these were the only challenges this young couple had to face then Ann Turnbull’s follow-up to the Whitbread-shortlisted No Shame, No Fear would still be a tale and a half.

However, there’s a further level of complexity. Susanna and Will are Quakers – dissenters from religious orthodoxy, a vulnerable position in the febrile climate of the mid-Seventeenth century.

Forged in the Fire is rich with details about the sufferings of the Quakers. Will spends time in Newgate prison, a group of Quakers face transportation to the West Indies while on-going persecution is an everyday fact of life.

The climax of the tale coincides with the Great Fire of London and the risk that everything Will and Susanna have worked for will be destroyed.

This is a compelling story of life in uncertain times and an excellent portrayal of life in a minority community for readers aged 12 and over.

Not Exactly Normal is a US tale for nine-year-olds and up. It’s the story about Todd Farrell who is interested in soccer, slightly confused by girls, particularly Leda from California and inspired by a Dead Poets Society style teacher at a slightly quirky school in New England.

That short précis could easily be translated to a British environment and make an equally interesting read but the style and the characters would be very different.

In Devin Brown’s story the characters are more self-conscious and dare I say it more precocious than their UK counterparts would be. Religion is firmly at the centre of community life – not a bad thing in itself – but the way moral points are made seems overtly formal even simplistic.

At an age when their sisters are entering into the weird and wonderful world of Jacqui Wilson, the families in Not Exactly Normal will seem defiantly conventional and well, normal to boys in the UK.

The core of the book is Todd’s quest to write a school report on mystical experiences – not something that features on the UK syllabus. After a poor performance in his previous project he’s determined to do better and resolves to have his own mystical experience.

He makes a lot of notes in the library, he plays a lot of soccer (sic), learns a bit about selflessness and inclusiveness and rescues his best friend from certain death in an icy river. Finally, however, he has his own mystical experience and can report back to his class.

This is a book about ideas rather than fast-paced plotting, a brave move in these days of Young Bond and Harry Potter. A cultural curiosity rather than a must read.

This book tells is the tale of Nancy Wake, one of a select band of female spies parachuted into occupied Europe during the Second World War.

The facts are all there but so too is the humanity and the cost of the Australian’s bravery in taking on the Nazi regime in her adopted homeland, France. This is history told in real time as a story, with conversations and characters that live off the page.

Wake ran away from home at 16, left Australia soon after and blagged a job as a journalist in Paris at an age when most of us have still not left college. While in Paris she fell for well-to-do French businessman Henri Fiocca and married him in 1939.

So far, so fairy tale but as we all know it wouldn’t last. The war was coming and everyone would be asked some difficult moral questions, keep your head down or resist.

Wake was naturally drawn to the path of most resistance particularly as she had been to Austria and she knew what the Nazis were doing to Jews. Now based in Marseille she became involved in the resistance, helping British soldiers escape. Eventually, however, it became too risky and she had to flee.

Once in England she joined the Special Operations Executive and was sent to central France as a secret agent to organise parachute drops for the resistance.

The tale ends sadly at the end of the war when she returns to Marseille to try and track down her husband. Tragically her involvement with the resistance made him a target for the Gestapo and torture.

This is a great yarn made all the more engaging because it is history. You probably wouldn’t believe it if it was fiction.

Clem Martini introduces us to the lore of the crow clans, a clash between strong-willed youngsters and more conservative elders as well as the Chooser, the slightly bedraggled elder selected to guide the flock.

Sadly The Mob – the first part of a trilogy The Crow Chronicles – isn’t one of the happiest meetings as a series of battles with a group of local cats cause chaos and social upheaval that threatens to divide the flock.

The review copy promises Watership Down with crows and it’s a tough comparison, particularly given that fluffy bunnies automatically attract more sympathy than cackling crows.

I finished this book two weeks ago and I’m still ambivalent about the whole experience. Parts of it irritated me intensely but there’s also some fine writing, particularly in the climactic tunnel scenes.

One sign that I wasn’t fully engaged is my annoyance at the fact that all the characters’ names start with a K – all very nu metal and initially at least quite confusing. I don’t recall all the rabbits in Richard Adams’ story having names beginning with R.

I’m also unsure who it’s aimed at. The start of the book is very slow although there’s a burst of crow lurve and some nice touches about how a girl crow observes human behaviour, which might appeal to a female readership. At the same time the end of the book is more violent and action focused and reads as if it’s aimed at a male readership.

Ultimately I feel a potentially good idea hasn’t been served well by the way it’s been published. I recall Watership Down as a chunky read, with pretty small type, a single volume that recounts a series of episodes in the establishment of a new burrow.

According to Amazon there are 480 pages in the current Penguin edition of Watership Down while The Mob is just 236 pages with a fairly hefty typeface and generous leading. It recounts a single eposide in the life of the flock leaving you feeling short-changed by the current vogue for publishing franchises.

I don’t know how long parts two and three of the Crow Chronicles will be but had the whole tale been published as a two-parter or even a single volume then the early slow pace of The Mob might have worked well as the lead in to a more textured story.

Cyrano explains how the pair ended up in this situation. It’s the story of how Roxane was seduced by Christian’s words both written and spoken and how de Bergerac wrote those enticing entreaties to win the heart of the woman he loved for another.

Add in Cyrano’s embarrassment about his rather prominent protuberance, dashing heroism and a sneaky rival in the shape of the Comte de Guiche and all the elements are in place for a classic historical romance.

This is not a tale that has hidden its light under a bushel. Movies in the shape of Cyrano, staring Gérard Depardieu, and Roxanne, Steve Martin, have brought this story to life in traditional and updated environments.

Geraldine McCaughrean’s version is based on the original play by Edmond Rostand and opts for the traditional setting of seventeenth France. It has all the lyrical richness that the tale demands, Cyrano’s swagger is admirably conveyed, Christian is suitably eager and dumb.

The machinations of the Comte provide a darker background for some of the more pantomime moments and everything floats along effortlessly.

It is also book that opens up the debate about the merits of retelling a classic tale: is such a work more valuable than the more “full-on” challenge of inventing your own characters, setting and plot? Is it merely a buswoman’s holiday for McCaughrean?

The marketing team at Oxford University Press won’t care about such writerly concerns, however. They will simply be delighted with the January publication date.

That’s not a reflection on the quality of the second volume in The Archisan Tales merely an acknowledgement of a status quo that even super-sellers like Terry Pratchett struggle to overcome.

It’s unfair because at its heart this is simply a good traditional adventure story: foolish kids put their parents in peril and have to team up with a wayward uncle to redeem the situation. Along the way they pick up new skills, make new friends and save each other and their companions from peril.

Set such a plot in a Peckham housing estate – cue lots of gritty urban realism – and it’d be taken as a tale for our times. Add in a few flying beasties and some giant cargo-carrying centipedes, however, and suddenly the critical acclaim slips away.

However, if you like fantasy then the combination of the intuitive Myunan children, battling first with business-like warlords of the Noran and then with the dunderhead Reisenick and their leader Ludditch is well worth picking up.

The central theme is obviously Gaia-esque: tampering with the spirit of the earth brings chaos. Only if the god of the mountain is reunited with his realm will normality return.

That said there’s a collection of wondrous creatures that London Zoo would cast an envious glance at, a set of rogues who veer towards the pantomime and two engaging central characters on a voyage of discovery that pre-teen and early teen readers will empathise with.

The Myunan’s great skill is their ability to meld and flex flesh and bone so that they can take on any form they like, enabling them to blend into walls, gain wings and fly. As the novel proceeds Taya and Lorkrin gradually develop their ability to take advantage of this extraordinary asset.

Although it’s the second volume in the series it reads simply as a familiar cast of characters getting together for a new adventure, you don’t really need to start with Volume 1.

It all leaves you marvelling at the invention of Oisín McGann. If quietly amusing rather than laugh out loud sounds like damning with faint praise it’s not meant that way – it’s because more often than not I fall into the fantasy-free reading group.

Griselda Gifford’s latest book visits a troubled community battling with the very real challenges of wartime. With German invasion a threat and families split up by the demands of military service, the focus of the story is on Pip and Harry, two young girls who are growing up fast.

And while it contains all the classic elements of horses, rival gangs and nasty adults it also adds a darker edge – the locals’ antipathy to an elderly couple that they believe might be German spies.

The suspense is slowly ratcheted up as Pip and Harry become involved with Max – the grandson of the elderly couple – who is trying to run away. The threat of an adult lynch mob builds cleverly through the book as it heads towards its conclusion.

Interwoven with the main story, the reality of living with the war – Pip and her mother are evacuees – and the uncertainty of life and relationships when you literally are under attack is well illustrated.

Michael Cronin has used this idea in Against The Day, Through The Night and now the final part of the trilogy In The Morning. His premise is that Britain was invaded in 1940 and the new book follows Frank and Leslie’s battle for survival in the dying days of the regime. Thanks to American and Soviet success on the continent, the occupiers are being forced to withdraw.

The pair are now experienced guerrilla fighters and the book recounts their attempts to hamper German efforts to depart quickly and efficiently. Along the way they meet a cracking cast of secondary characters including a double-crossing actor, collaborating policemen and British Nazis.

At the heart of the book is the story of the resistance’s attempt to stop the German commander Gauleiter Müller escaping to Germany. The climax comes with Frank held captive by the Careys, a family of rich British Nazis, in Wiltshire and Leslie working with a local guerrilla group who are trying to foil the commander's plans.

Having not read the first two books in the trilogy some of what follows may be unfair. However, In The Morning is being promoted as a standalone novel as well as the concluding part of the story so it’s fair to point out that it feels to this reader as if there are too many loose ends being tied, marring an otherwise enjoyable plot.

The plus points are a succession of fast-paced events that start immediately on Page 1 when partisans blow up a train. If you’ve read the first two books you’ll probably race through it. If not, it might be best to start at the beginning.

He then embarks – no pun intended – on a series of adventures that bring him into contact with the circus, the urban jungle, pirates, slave traders and ultimately to Ashenpeake, the island home of his people.

Cat Weatherill’s tale of Barkbelly’s search for his roots addresses some fairly challenging themes: loss, betrayal and the true meaning of love. Ultimately, however, the action rolls on so fast that most will be swept along for the ride.

There’s a slight sense that Barkbelly is a series of fantastical vignettes populated with wild and wonderful characters rather than a coherent whole. However, the real issue if you’re using the book as a bedtime story may be persuading your kids to wait till tomorrow for the next instalment.