ACHUKAREVIEWS...

Thankfully, the hand-to-mouth living described in The Poacher’s Son will be utterly remote from most modern readers’ personal experience. Arthur becomes increasingly alienated by the rigid social and moral structures of the time, failing at school (his sister thrives there, but her prospects are absolutely defined and limited by her background). Instead, he is utterly absorbed by the natural world; it is this solitude that allows Arthur to become completely himself. It is a shock when the narrative lurches into the First World War and towards its bleak conclusion. Anderson allows Arthur as the narrator to seem much more eloquent than the younger self he describes; this imbues him with dignity, but it also has a distancing effect on the reader. A subtle, sombre book.

Girl, Missing works best when read as a thriller/ suspense novel. It has an intriguing and unusual premise that was inspired by a real-life missing child case. However, I think that it also taps into one of the enduring archetypes of children’s literature, of the perilous quest that reveals secret identities and a hidden heritage/parentage. A stronger sense of place would have added another dimension to this story; more could have been made of Lauren’s journey from England to New England in search of her family. Lauren is not a particularly sympathetic character, but is probably more plausible because of this (some of the plot devices I found less plausible!). However, the descriptions of Lauren’s instinctive kindness towards her little sister were genuinely touching, and left me wanting more insight into her emotional development.

This is the first book in ‘The Clouded World’ Series.

This book is being explicitly marketed at fans of the fabulous Philips (Reeve and Pullman) and it does indeed touch upon some of the themes explored in their books. As in the ‘Mortal Engines’ series, Armory presents a re-imagined, scavenged world that has diverged dramatically from our own (technology is the catalyst in Mortal Engines, while here it the branching of human evolution) resulting in a deeply divided society and an incipient ‘class’ war between its highest and lowest tiers. Armory also alludes to the abuse of religious dogma, a theme that is explored so dazzlingly in ‘His Dark Materials’. However, I think that The Fledging of Az Gabrielson does have an appeal of its own; the story taps straight into that atavistic human desire to fly and there are some intriguing, ambiguous characters (I loved Mr Mordadson) who are often beautifully named (Ramona Orifielsdaughter Enochson!). It will be interesting to see how Amory takes this story forward and whether he chooses to distance himself from the inevitable comparisons.

I absolutely loved this book, having already relished the earlier titles in the series. Reeve’s exceptional fondness for his characters frees them to behave in complicated, inconsistent and often misguided ways, and the relationships between the characters are similarly complex (Hester and Shrike being the most poignant example). This is writing of much greater emotional subtlety and empathy than is suggested by the muscular ‘steampunk’ setting. A Darkling Plain is not as unreservedly fast-paced as the earlier books; despite the dreadful thrill of the escalating hostilities between the Traction Cities and the Green Storm, the narrative is interspersed with strange little episodes of introspection, as the Stalker Fang explores her inimical dual personalities, and Tom contemplates his rapidly failing health. Moreover, the conclusion of the book is simply astonishing and alters the reader’s sense of everything that has gone before, through an extraordinary shift of perspective. I could go on…

The Black Paw is the first book in the Spy Mice series. This a very light read; the characters are affectionately drawn and the story is entertaining and well paced. It will appeal to younger fans of the ‘Spy Kids’ movies and similar. However, it’s all a little bit too cute for my tastes. It reminded me of Michael Hoeye’s stylish Hermux Tantamoq series, where the fastidious portrayal of the mouse characters similarly veers between whimsicality and tweeness.

Despite being the first book in a five-part series, Gregor and the Rats of Underland is sufficiently well written and structured to make a satisfying stand-alone read. Suzanne Collins uses classic elements of the ‘quest’ narrative (e.g. the prophecy, the drawing of lines of allegiance, temptation and betrayal) with enough originality and complexity to satisfy most readers. The relationship between Gregor and Boots is sweetly portrayed but manages to avoid being overly sentimental. I particularly enjoyed the archaic speech patterns of the Underlanders and was quite charmed by the noble and self-effacing characters of the cockroaches Tick and Temp!

On some levels, it’s very tempting to compare this book to Philip Pullman’s ‘His Dark Materials’ trilogy and to view headstrong, courageous Mosca as a literary ‘daughter of Lyra’. However, far from being an imitator, Frances Hardinge has the confidence and skill to tell her story in a voice that is delightfully idiosyncratic, witty and humane. You cannot fail to appreciate the sheer relish with which Hardinge uses language, conveying how dangerous, seductive and wonderful words (and books) can be. There is also a strong sense of genuine affection in her depiction of humankind in all its weirdness and whimsicality. Characters that are variously terrifying, ridiculous, magnificent and pitiable are all described with equal care and conviction.

A very impressive debut!