Drowning in my Bedroom, by Steve Cole, illustrated by Orion Vidal, published by Barrington Stoke, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart

           

       Set in a fast-developing catastrophic typhoon in Manila, this short novel is told alternately by two eleven-year-old children, each of them leading difficult lives. They have noticed each other on the street, each feeling pity for the other, glad they aren’t like that other child, each of them hating being noticed and pitied by the other.  

Gayla has a form of cerebral palsy that makes movement difficult. That, along with her stubbornness and bad luck, means that she is soon alone in a residential centre for children with disabilities as flash floods trap her there, threatening to drown her. Jajun is a beggar child whose shack home is washed away, and, in desperation to find medicine for his sick sister, he goes to steal medicine from the centre. The two of them need to overcome their previous thoughts about each other and work together in order to save themselves, Gayla’s clever idea enabled by Jajun’s bravery. 

This exciting story demonstrates the power of empathy and teamwork. It also shows and explains something of how the disaster is precipitated by human action and politics, and global warming. A story to warn and to empower children. 

Illustrated with dramatic energy in graphic novel style by Oriol Vidal. 

Who reads introductions? by Joan Lennon

Eugene de Blaas The Introduction (1883)

(wiki commons)

I'm nearing the end of the first draft of a non-fiction book for 8-12 year-olds, and I'm running out of excuses. I have to write an introduction, because non-fiction children's books have introductions. It's expected. But expected by whom? Who reads the wretched things? 

My guess is: kids - no; teachers, librarians and parents - yes. Same answer as to who buys (usually expensive) non-fiction children's books.

So while I'm hoping my 8-12 year-old readers will be flipping ahead into the good stuff, I need to convince their adults that that is a worthy idea. That my book is something they want their children to read.

Do I need to convince them that my book will help their kids pass exams, write essays, look smart?

Is it like a trailer? Do I want to spoil the best bits by waving them like shiny objects in the hopes they'll be hypnotised and buy? (You can tell I'm not a fan of trailers.)

I know it's nice if you have some sort of personal anecdote to explain why you wrote the book in the first place and to make you seem nice and approachable. 'I thought it would be interesting' doesn't really tick that box, but that's what I've got - and it has been really, really interesting!

How about 'I like the book! I like it a lot!' But then I would say that.

Any thoughts/tips/tricks on writing introductions gratefully received - from humans only. AI can get on with writing its own books.

Hey ho. Wish me luck - I'm going in.

(And I'm not even thinking yet about writing the blurb. I was maundering about those as far back as 2017 - That Blurb Word - as a way of avoiding writing them for the books I was finishing back then.)

Joan Lennon website.

Joan Lennon Instagram.

Non-fiction for 8-12 year-olds by Joan Haig and Joan Lennon, illustrated by Andre Ducci: 

Talking History: 150 Years of Speakers and Speeches pub. Templar Books 

Great Minds: 2500 Years of Thinkers and Philosophy pub. Templar Books.

Going cuckoo - by Lu Hersey

 For various reasons (mostly the time of year), I've become cuckoo obsessed this month. So here's something about cuckoos and cuckoo folklore which doesn't even touch on the subject of how they manage to replicate exactly the eggs of the different bird species whose nests they lay their eggs in. (There might be a scientific explanation, but it looks like magic to me...)

The arrival of the cuckoo in April traditionally heralded the coming of summer - to the point where it was popularly believed that the bird actually brought summer with it. At Towedneck in Cornwall, a cuckoo feast was held on the Sunday nearest 28 April, as that was the date the cuckoo supposedly brought the summer in.

According to the Cornish folk tale, one very cold, wet spring, a farmer threw a log on his fire on 28 April and a cuckoo flew out. The weather immediately changed to warm and sunny - and so that became the date of the fair.

At one time cuckoo fairs were held over much of the country, possibly the most famous being one at Heathfield in Sussex. Here, the old woman supposedly in charge of all the cuckoos bringing summer is known as Dame Heffle, and she lets a cuckoo out of her basket at the annual Heffle (the old name for Heathfield) fair . The fair was started in 1315 when the Bishop of Chichester obtained permission to hold a weekly market and an annual fair, and was only recently cancelled because of the pandemic - hopefully to be revived in the near future. Anyway, it was said that the number of cuckoos heard during the summer after the release of Dame Heffle's cuckoo would depend on how grumpy (or not) the chosen Dame Heffle was feeling that day...

In Wales, it's considered unlucky to hear a cuckoo before 6 April, but very lucky to hear it on 28 April. To hear it after midsummer's day is a possible death omen (there were so many possible death omens in country lore, it's amazing anyone managed to stay alive...)

Having said that, all over Europe the cuckoo was regarded as a bird of omens, both good and bad, depending on when you hear it and what direction you heard it - and this varied from region to region. However one commonly held belief was that it was a good idea to have coins ready in your pocket, so when you heard the first cuckoo, you could turn them over to bring you luck for the year ahead.

People didn't fully understand bird migration until relatively recently, and had various ideas (depending on local tradition) about where the birds went when they disappeared. Some believed they roosted in rotten logs, and some believed they flew into fairy hills and burrows. A widely held (and surprisingly persistent) belief was that cuckoos turned into hawks for the winter - even though Aristotle dismissed the idea over 2000 years ago.

As most of us live in urban environments these day, you might not hear a cuckoo from one year to the next. But I'd recommend getting out to the countryside to listen out for one - a sure sign that summer is coming. Probably around 28 April is a good time... :)

Lu Hersey

Patreon account: Writing the Magic

Twitter/X: @Lu Writes

Retreating from reality – Rowena House

Driving home after marking the 90-year milestone of my dad’s well-lived life which, tragically, is now sunk into the horrors of Alzheimer's, I made a sudden – but also not-so-sudden – decision to return to the beautiful southern French town of Castillon-la-Bataille on the banks of the Dordogne to reprise last year’s energizing, restful, magical writing retreat at Chez Castillion with the inimitable Jo Thomas, hosted by Janie Millman and Mickey Wilson. 

On Twitter or their website you can find more photos of their historic sandstone townhouse and the azure swimming pool in their courtyard garden. The colours are just as crisp and exotic in real life. The interiors are a mix of cooling mosaics, eclectic furniture and artworks, nothing pretentious, all homely and dreamy.

I took the decision to return to this paradise while parked up in the rain about 4 pm yesterday. We catch the ferry this evening. The course starts tomorrow. I am overwhelmed by the privilege of being able to repurpose money at the last moment to fulfil this dream, but life is precious and can be snatched away in so many different and cruel forms. In his heyday, dad would have approved of my choice.

I really hope everyone can snatch back agency and joy from time to time. I think I’m going to cry if the swifts are screaming over the pool as they were in the evenings last year. Meanwhile, here is the link to their website and also to Manda Scott’s recent Accidental Gods podcast which in part prompted the decision to escape the ocean of tears for a week.

https://www.chezcastillon.com/

https://accidentalgods.life/how-do-we-live-when-under-the-surface-of-everything-is-an-ocean-of-tears-with-douglas-rushkoff-of-team-human/

 

Rowena House Author on FB where I’m sort of journalling the C17th witchy work-in-progress

@HouseRowena on X/Twitter 

 

PS If you're a writer who wants to be published, please read Anne Rooney's piece on the economic realities we all face. I'm very aware my writing is another expression of privilege. Here's the link:

https://awfullybigblogadventure.blogspot.com/2024/04/how-can-it-ever-work-anne-rooney.html

 

 

 

Where do I come from? (Part 1) by Lynne Benton

This month's blog was originally published in 2021, but there could be some out there who never saw it then who might enjoy reading it now.  And even if you did read it first time round, you might enjoy reading it again.  I hope so, anyway.

While wondering what to write about, I came across a thin book, almost hidden among fatter volumes on my bookshelf, called The Observer Book of Books.  Published in 2008, some of the gems inside are somewhat out of date – but others are still fascinating and totally relevant today.  Although some articles are more concerned with books for adults, this particular item is specifically about children’s books – which inspired this blog.

Where do I come from? concerns the origins of children’s fiction, and tells of the background to several famous books.  Since there are ten in all, I’ve decided to write about five this month and leave the remaining five for next month’s blog.  They are listed in chronological order – at least, in order of the year of their publication.

The first book is one everyone will have heard of and most will have read, possibly many times, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll, first published in 1865. 

As most people know, Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) was an Oxford minister who told his original story to, and based its heroine on, his young friend Alice Liddell.  However, what is not quite so well-known is that several real people appear in the story as nonsensical characters, such as Dodgson himself as the Dodo, Disraeli as Bill the Lizard, inventor Theophilus Carter as the Mad Hatter, and artist John Ruskin as the Drawing Master.

The second book is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by Frank L Baum, published in 1900.

This was possibly intended to be more political fable than fantasy, since Baum was sympathetic to the Populists, a socialist alliance of farmers (Scarecrow) and industrial workers (Tin Man).  Both were sent down the Yellow Brick Road (the gold standard) along with the Lion (the natural world), braving the Wicked Witch of the East (Wall Street) to see the Wizard (the president), who was an ordinary man of illusory power.  Baum’s books give over the rule of Oz to the commoners, while Dorothy (folk wisdom) returns to Kansas.  Now, having read all that, I’d rather like to see the film/read the book all over again!

Next comes Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie, published in 1902.

Peter sprang from several sources: JM Barrie’s brother, who died at the age of 13 and would therefore never grow up (or “remain a boy forever”), the five Llewelyn Davies boys whom Barrie befriended, and perhaps Barrie himself, who was only 5 feet tall.  Another young pal, six-year-old Margaret Henley, called Barrie “my fwendy”, and became Wendy.  The Roman god Pan gave Peter his surname and mischievous persona.

Following that comes number four: The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, published in 1908.

Grahame invented this tale for his son Alastair.  Blind in one eye and an only child, Alastair was prone to rages (he committed suicide at 21).  Mr Toad’s preposterous behaviour matched Alastair’s, providing a welcome but controllable disruption into the Riverbank’s orderly Edwardians.

And the fifth and final book in this selection is Winnie-the-Pooh, by A A Milne, published in 1924.

The book was modelled on Milne’s son, Christopher Robin, and his toys.  The bear was called Winnie after London Zoo’s Canadian black bear, and Pooh was the name of a swan.  Christopher Milne, who struggled with his legacy (as anyone who saw the film “Goodbye Christopher Robin” will appreciate) later recalled his mother Daphne as the one who invented stories about toy animals.

I found all this information quite fascinating, and I hope you do too.  Five more next month! 

Website: lynnebenton.com

Comfort Reading by Sheena Wilkinson

I'm one of those people -- I suspect many writers are -- for whom whether to read isn't a choice. The only choice is what to read.   I read every day, and can't think of a single day when I haven't. But of course there are times when life gets in the way, and there are only certain things you fancy. 

I remember once talking to a friend's elderly mother, who had been widowed and understandably lost her reading mojo, which bothered her. She explained that she didn't want to read anything new as she didn't think she could get into it and it might be upsetting. So why not try an old friend? I suggested, being a re-reader myself. She looked at me in disdain. Oh no, she said: she couldn't possibly read something she'd already read.

It seems contrary, but I sort of understood. Sometimes you want something familiar but not too familiar -- the latest book from a favourite and trusted writer is always ideal. Though when a lot of your favourite authors are long dead that's not so easy -- unless someone like Persephone or Dean Street Press publishes a forgotten masterpiece. 

Recently I had cause to think about this as I unexpectedly had to have a minor surgical procedure. Not having been in hospital since I was six, and never before having had a general anaesthetic, and being, moreover of a catastrophising and over-imaginative turn of mind (I'm a novelist for goodness sake!) it did not seem minor to me. I thought of Ginty in my beloved Antonia Forest books who thinks, when she is accused of making a mountain out of a molehill, Yes, that's all when it's not you it's happening to. 

I knew I would need some books to see me through. It all happened quickly so I was already in the middle of The Priory by Dorothy Whipple (the mid-century novelist who got me out of my Covid reading slump) which was ideal. But what next? I knew I would be resting and therefore needing some comfort reads for at least a week -- something for in between old episodes of Call the Midwife. (Given the nature of my indisposition it was odd that I could fancy CTM but who can fathom the contrary ways of humans.)

I had Covid last summer and had binged all my Malory Towers and St Clare's books. For reasons I shall reveal very soon on this blog, I have been in a vaguely school-storyish mood for some months.  

I thought about the Chalet School -- 59 of them, all neatly ranged in the bookcase on the landing. But I know them too well -- not only what happens, but often the actual wording of sentences. Besides, I wanted to read on kindle, so I wouldn't need my glasses and didn't need to worry about switching on the lamp if I woke up in the middle of the night.

Elizabeth Jane Howard came to my rescue (not for the first time) with her wonderful Cazalet saga, about an English family before, during and after the Second World War. I know them well enough for the characters to feel like old friends, but not so well that I remembered every detail. They are accessible but beautifully written. And Elizabeth Jane Howard is the most accomplished 'head hopper' I know. This makes her sound like a headlouse: what I mean is that she can shift point of view with incredible deftness, mid-scene, even mid-paragraph. I know I could never manage that, but I read her as a masterclass in what can be done. Because of that, and because I am writing a novel set during WW2, I also felt like I was doing a tiny bit of work at the same time. 

I'm glad to say that I'm fine now, with one book still to go! 

What are other people's comfort read go-tos?

Lilac Mood Board by Lynda Waterhouse

The lilac blooms in a patch of polluted ground. The land had been used as a battery dump during the Second World War so flagstones were laid. My neighbour first planted the lilac in a raised bed but it did not thrive so she lifted up one of the flagstones replanted it in the ground. It thrives there.

The magpies have been squabbling over the small twigs they have tugged from the lower branches to weave into their nests.

Mixing memory and desire,

Stirring dull roots with spring rain.

(T.S Eliot, The Wasteland)

The Great God Pan made his first pipe from lilac wood and whoever hears his music is changed forever.  A note of spring.

At night the heady perfume sweetens my dreams.

Even before love knows that

It is love

Lilac knows that it will blossom

(Helen Dunmore, City Lilac)

The bloom will only last three short weeks at most.

 So make the most of their display. Beware of bringing lilacs indoors lest you lure the faeries into your home. That powdery sweet smell also has the power to transport humans to fairyland. Or does their cloying smell cover up a sickness in the house? Does it evoke a Victorian deathbed? Could these warnings be merely tales told by gardeners to save the lilac?

There are perfumes containing a lilac fragrance ; Idylle by Guerlain, En Passant by Frederic Malle, White Linen by Estee Lauder and Fleurs d’Interdit by Givenchy.

Now, as the flowers are on the wane, and are stained with brown, a gang of birds have moved into the garden: a sparrow family, a straggly robin, two blackbirds, a tiny wren and a mob of blue tits. We all try and ignore the upstart parakeets.

O were my love yon lilack fair,

Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring,

And I, a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing

(Robert Burns, O were my love yon lilack fair)