Fiction: November 2007 Archives

In bringing the story of Cleopatra to life through the eyes of Nefret, a young Egyptian girl who is conscripted to work for the royal household, Adele Geras paints a vivid portrait of this extraordinary, sparkling historical figure. The diary entries of Nefret provide a wealth of colour and detail about Ancient Egypt and – through choosing a first-person narrative told by a girl, Geras easily conveys just what an astoundingly inspirational figurehead Cleopatra must have presented.

Cleopatra’s story links Ancient Egyptian history with that of Ancient Rome, both focal areas in the key-stage two, National Curriculum history syllabus. Production values of the book are incredibly high with M. P. Robertson’s lavish spreads that perfectly capture the movement, tone and time of the period being interspersed with photographic imagery of key historical artefacts. Notes are appended at the end about Alexandria, the Roman army, the river Nile and more, providing valuable factual context to this fictionalised account of Cleopatra’s life.

An accomplished synergy of wonderful writing, illustrative innovation and pride in publishing production values make this a venture that is not to be missed. Whether reading for pleasure or for purpose, this is a tome to be treasured. Look out for Steve Augarde’s “Leonardo da Vinci” which Kingfisher have scheduled for publication in 2008.

Following a meeting with his social worker, Mouse bumps into Cat, whom it transpires is a petty shop-lifter. The two of them form an alliance and are able to relate parts of their past to one another.

Together the pair help Mouse’s mother re-establish the Phoenix Centre, the drugs rehabilitation centre in the ironically named ‘Eden Estate’, following its destruction in an arson attack. Cat and Mouse become convinced that the vicious circle the estate is trapped within can be broken and so they embark upon carrying out vigilante style retribution. Whilst this is, in part, successful, it throws them into the arms of the police whereupon the secrets they have kept concealed from one another are revealed with huge consequences.

The phoenix motif in the novel is particularly apt to this story about rebirth and regrowth. Cathy Cassidy has paired the importance of responsibility against the essential nature of self-expression in this heart-warming, life-affirming tale.

“The Snow Goose” follows the plight of Philip Rhayader, an artist living out a solitary existence on the Essex Coast. Blighted by a physical deformity that distances him from the society surrounding him, his tenderness and love find purpose only through nurturing injured wild-fowl back to well-health.

An injured snow goose brings the feisty young Frith to Rhayader, and together the two of them nurse the creature. The other-worldly aspect of the Great Marsh is purged by current affairs as news of the war and the situation facing soldiers in Dunkirk spreads. With this, human devastation infiltrates the ebb-and-flow of the natural, wild environs of the marsh.

Rhayader resolves to sail his boat across to Dunkirk whereupon he plans to rescue the soldiers stranded upon the beach. From this point, the remainder of the story becomes piecemeal, gathered from a variety of sources and puzzled together arriving at a conclusion laced with pathos, unfulfilled desires and things unsaid.

The salt-sting of the sea air and its desolation are captured brilliantly by Angela Barrett’s majestic illustrations which evoke the wild untamed, atmosphere of the book with a raw, untamed power and grace that proves entirely equal to this haunting tale.

Following the life and thoughts of Rachel Riley through a series of diary entries, the novel is similar in form and in feel to the Georgia Nicholson series by Louise Rennison. A distinction exists, however, in that a more coherent thread of storylines and plots courses beneath the self-conscious, though rarely self-aware, diary entries of the protagonist.

Resolved that the current year truly will be her most dramatically tragic yet, Rachel is so focused upon this aim, she is unaware of the more irregular and surreal aspects of her life. Ascorbic and probing, writing so sharp and so pointed should carry a safety warning!

Narinda Dhami has a definite ear for dialogue and a keenly astute eye for social interaction resulting in prose that is witty, wise and a genuine delight. Analogies between changes that have affected past and present generations and an ability to reach a resolve for past misdemeanours and misconceptions make for a thought-provoking and satisfying read.

Following the separation of his mother and father, Kyle has become socially withdrawn. Embarking upon a class trip, the train that Kyle and his peers are on is de-railed and hangs precariously between safety and danger, life and death, for all those on board.

One of the few individuals conscious on the train, Kyle finds that he is able to experience at first hand the dreams – and thereby the fears, guilt and neuroses – that his fellow passengers are subject to…

Large questions regarding, faith, belief, reality, truth, preordination and psych-kinesis are stimulated and are constantly brought to the fore as the narrative pace races through a total of thirteen nightmares told in a frame-setting.

Blackman depicts horror at its most chilling and efficacious through drawing the shades of darkness from sources identifiable to the everyman. The personal base to several of the dream described makes this a brave work, its considered nature and seriousness of intent ensuring it is, at once, in equal parts worthwhile.

Keen to see David with others of his own age, his grandmother insists on his attending an egg hunt over Easter. Caught in a reverie, David instead begins looking the woods and finds an egg in the mouth of what he believes to be a dead body.

Through a series of false-starts, trust and mistrust, David is befriended by the thirteen-year-old Primrose who has no dad and a neglectful, eccentric, fortune-telling mother. Realism and surrealism interweave to concoct a heady memorable rites-of-passage narrative whereby neither David nor Primrose feel complete, happy or entirely understood and supported.

Spinelli’s understated narrative brings the two together as friends whose bonds are robust and rigorous. A moving account of the way we each of us depend upon others even at those times when we endeavour to assert our independence most stridently.

Orion Children’s books have produced a bind-up of “The boy with magic numbers”, where a gift from his father enables protagonist Billy to predict number sequences with remarkable proficiency leading him to solve numerous numerical conundrams and ultimately to become embroiled in trying to rescue son of a millionaire, Walter Minks Junior, from kidnappers. Positive attitude and furthermore the desire to utilise skills responsively build through a succession of twists, turns, plots and sub-plots to a thoroughly heartening climax.

Flipping the book provides readers with the opportunity to read the story of “The Invisible Boy”. When Sam’s parents win a trip to the moon., the appropriately named Mrs Hardbottom, the family’s nextdoor neighbour, offers to look after him. This allows Gardner to achieve one of the archetypes of children’s literature, the child alone, conquering adversity. Salvation from the harsh treatment Sam suffers at the hand of Mrs Hardbottom arrives in a salad-spinner in the form of Splodge, an alien, whose patch makes Sam invisible, thereby initiating a series of... and reversing the adage that children should be seen and not heard.

These are sedate stories feeling almost as though they are from an age ago, in spite of these, or more properly, because of this, they retain a sense of wonder, magic and awe that makes life feel fuller and more flavoursome. Sally Gardner taps into the dream consciousness of children – and adults(!) – everywhere in these two timeless tales.

What makes these books so special and so clever is the sense in which they are thoroughly recognisable and set in an everyday environment that readers are instantly able to feel an affinity towards. Whilst magic influences gives levels of guidance to the child protagonists that lie at each story’s centre, that magic is skilfully utilised by Gardner as a means for developing a resilience and an increased sense of engagement with the world that surrounds them.