Campaign for the Book (3)

Just imagine! There I was in a classroom sitting next to Linda Newbery, with Frank Cottrell Boyce and Beverley Naidoo rushing in late (and without a reservation, I believe), sitting down at what they soon named the ‘naughty table’. In fact, Frank continued looking slightly naughty throughout the session with our ‘teacher’ Bali Rai. Our workshop had the fancy name ‘The Importance of Identity and Race in Young People’s Fiction’, but Bali called it Diversity. I’d like to think that our room was so crowded, because it was the best of the workshops.

I was somewhat dubiously placed, sitting right underneath a photo of the recently departed President Bush, but then Obama was there, too, and Yeltsin was nearby with Gorbachev. I’m full of admiration for Bali’s powers. When the session began it started raining fairly heavily. Before long we had a full-blown storm with thunder and lightning and rain cascading down from the gutters outside the window. Very dramatic. It ended when the workshop was over.

As so many people on Saturday said, Bali reckons he wouldn’t be where he is now without the library. Books were a precious thing for someone growing up in a one-parent family with little money. If he’d asked for pocket money he would have had to go without food instead.

Bali feels that to get ‘minorities’ to read you have to start by putting them in the books. When he talks about minorities he doesn’t just mean poor immigrants; it covers anyone who is different in some way. One of his most favourite books recently was The Curious Incident, so he and I are clearly on the same Aspie wavelength.

His local library in Oadby, Leicester, is ‘brilliant’, and seems to do all that Bali wants from a library. He tells of the father who comes in to use the computer, and whose daughter learns to look at books while her dad goes on the internet. So in effect the girl becomes a reader simply because they don’t have a computer at home. The reverse can also be the case; with library staff putting adult books near parents who bring their children in for various child sessions. It’s a case of catching people where you find them.

Libraries need to shout ‘we are here!’, so prospective users can find them.

Another thing Bali has noticed is that as soon as you have a book about a single parent, they are immediately labelled ‘issue novels’. He himself  has a book on a recommended reads list for schools, which he is pleased about, but also annoyed, as it comes under ‘reading about other cultures’, when Bali has written about life in Britain. So if it’s about people with another skin colour it automatically turns into ‘other cultures’.

He also mentions schools which shadow the Carnegie, where books on the shortlist can be too inaccessible for keen but less able readers. There needs to be alternate lists of books.

Bali’s most recent novel is a mirror image story, about a white boy who is in minority, and is bullied by a group of coloured boys. His next one is about non-white British soldiers in World War I, something that comes as a surprise to people who think that British soldiers always are white.

Publishers need to adapt and publish more ‘minority’ books or they will soon not have any readers left. And it could be a good idea for bookshops not to treat prospective customers as hooligans just because they are young, male and non-white. They might just still want to read, and even buy, a book. Or two.

Campaign for the Book (2)

Thank heavens for people like Alan Gibbons. Someone who not only thinks that things are wrong, but who does something about it. I have barely had time to take in all his emails and newsletters this winter, let alone act on them. Just imagine how busy Alan has been; writing, digging, travelling. Possibly even doing some writing for himself once in a while. Must find out.

So, after the lighter introductions, we settled down to more serious things. Question Time with the politicians, except we ‘only’ had Ed Vaizey and Richard Younger Ross, because Lyn Brown had been promoted to the Whips office during the week, and in this mad world that means she can no longer say in public what she thinks about a subject she is very interested in. A lot was said by those present, but whether any of that will ever happen is anybody’s guess. The panellists had reasonable ideas, but they would, considering the circumstances. The audience had lots of questions and ideas, and we could have gone on forever.

After lunch it was time for two wonderful talks by the librarians who have been in the centre of the storm, so to speak. Clare Broadbelt, who was made redundant when her school library was closed, spoke eloquently on what it had been like both before – when things were normal – and during the period leading up to the closure. It was a good thing to hear how many of her pupils had spoken up. They had started petitions, only to find them torn up and told they were rubbish. And the reading room that had been promised in place of the library has not materialised.

The second talk was by Cath McNally, librarian from the Wirral, where they have an awful lot of millionaires, but also a great deal of child poverty. If all librarians can speak as well and as touchingly as Cath did, then we have much to be proud of. She cried at the end, describing how ‘her’ children had recommended books back to her, which just goes to show how much influence the library has had. I wonder if the suggested small stock of books in the GP’s surgery will have quite the same effect?

Gillian Cross spoke about her use of the mobile library, both forty years ago, and now, noting the changes in needs. The difference is the internet and as she said, the old ways won’t be coming back.  Miranda McKearney from the Reading Agency and Marilyn Mottram from the UK Literacy Association spoke about their findings from experience and research. According to Marilyn there is plenty of money out there; we just need to look for it in different places. Martyn Coles, head teacher at the City of London Academy, is unusual in his love for libraries in schools, and he reckons that architects need to be pushed in the right direction by caring head teachers, if new schools are to be built with sensible libraries.

After a number of smaller workshops, the day finished with Beverley Naidoo and Frank Cottrell Boyce. Beverley spoke movingly about her own early experiences from South Africa. Post-Sharpeville Beverley learnt to look at things in new ways, and she was introduced to other types of books than those she’d been reading. She mentioned a number of books that have helped her and inspired her. She was saying how wonderful it would be if our taxes were spent on books instead of on bullets and bombs, and her vision of planes dropping books instead is a powerful one. She told a Nigerian friend about coming to this Campaign for the Book conference, and her friend was shocked that we in the UK would need a conference like this. Beverley quoted Susan Sontag,  ’libraries are a precious treasure chest.’

Frank Cottrell Boyce told a long and funny tale about his daughter’s tin whistle ‘lessons’, which was a random way of describing how anything that is good should be taught. You share, rather than teach. He had had a recent bad school visit, which convinced him of how books should not be treated in schools. As Frank pointed out, his own father had taught him a love of football by playing it with him, not by turning it into lessons. One of Frank’s daughters who is not into reading, had been given Northanger Abbey on her iPod. Apparently Austen doesn’t work so well on shuffle, however; you just don’t know who is married to whom or for how long.

Alan Gibbons finished by saying that he is in this for the long haul. He wants more names on his petition, and he wants us all to organise many smaller local meetings like Saturday’s conference. He’d like authors to adopt an area as their own. ‘A library without a librarian is no library, but a room.’

Campaign for the Book (1)

As I usually seem to do, I ran into Fiona Dunbar in the Ladies at the start of the proceedings of the Campaign for the Book. Since this was held in the impressive King Edward School in Birmingham, which is a boys’ school, we have to be grateful for there being facilities for us girls at all. And while in toilet mode, I may as well admit to ending the day in the Gents, where the lone male customer was showing considerable courage in the face of so many women invading.

Having spent a whole day looking into the future of libraries in schools there is a lot of stuff to tell, so let the number one in the title be a warning that I will not disclose all right now. In actual fact, having begun by not being serious, I may as well continue not being serious. I had a surprisingly easy journey, only getting a little lost cutting through Birmingham University. That is despite the great help from that super-organiser Jean Allen, librarian at KES. Beautifully visible in cerise, and with a beautifully audible voice – so many people whisper, you know – Jean masterminded a first class event. Lots of food. Good food. Things worked.

I have always wanted to write the words stone mullioned windows. There! I have done it! They had them, you see. Great Hall. The school’s Chief Master (what a title!) spoke. He’s a former pupil, along with his mate Lee Child (who I distinctly remember saying a few years ago that he had had an ordinary English school background…), and he was suitably amusing before leaving in order to stop his son setting fire to their house. Or maybe that was a joke.

It’s fascinating with events where the authors are mainly in the audience. I have only listed the ones I know and recognise, although the list provided had more people on it. (From an alibi point of view I don’t want to state that X was there, in case he wasn’t.) Was pleased to discover Theresa Breslin was on the list, and worked hard at deciding what she might look like. She was, of course, the one sitting to my left.

Alan Gibbons is the driving force behind the whole campaign, so he was there. Celia Rees had a speaking role, and so did Gillian Cross. Steve Skidmore kept people in order during one discussion, and Beverley Naidoo and Frank Cottrell Boyce ended the day.

We had two sittings for lunch, and if I say that I first lunched with Theresa Breslin and later with Fiona Dunbar and Lucy Coats, you’ll wrongly assume I ate twice. I just didn’t leave when I should have, since it was so nice to finally meet Facebook friend Lucy.

Most of the 200 conference goers were librarians and others similarly occupied. And not a single Gudrun Sjödén stripe in sight. With so much on the programme I was amazed to find we finished on time. I had done a little autograph hunting during the day (my bag would have been a lot lighter with fewer books carted round), and then I finished off the day’s hunt by catching Gillian Cross and Beverley Naidoo as they were leaving.

The Haggis-knee played up on the way back through the university, so some hobbling was engaged in, and I was overtaken by loads of librarians. Like the famous tortoise however, I caught the train and they didn’t. Ticket issues, I believe. Found Beverley Naidoo again at New Street station, where I was also offered a Malteser by polite young Muslim man. All in all, very nice.

(Sincere apologies for being such a very dreadful photographer.)

Father figures

I wish parents, though mostly mothers for obvious reasons, wouldn’t clam up on ‘little’ things like who your father is. No need to make a long speech about it, because a sentence or two will do for the child’s needs. Trying to avoid that feeling of pain or embarrassment makes for more mountain than molehill in the end.

Linda Newbery seems to understand this. Her new book The Sandfather is all about Hal who doesn’t know who his father is, and it’s causing him problems in more ways than one. He’s excluded from school for a week, and sent to stay with his Mum’s aunt while his Mum is in hospital. Various father figures turn up for Hal, and it’s important for him to understand what makes a Dad. His Mum also needs to understand that Hal has needs, and that they are not the same as her needs.

I like the characters Linda writes about. She has put together a wonderful story about young teenage angst, and the reader gets so frustrated with stupid but well meaning adults, who simply have no idea what Hal needs. “Not yet’, is not the right reply.

Set in a seaside town in October, The Sandfather is a very English story, with lots of atmosphere. At times the sea is wild, and at times the seafront is sunny and warm. Typical British half term weather, which fits in well with Hal’s state of mind. And there is a solution, after all.

Try this new writer

When I’d read two chapters of The Traitor Game by B R Collins, I emailed Ian at Bloomsbury to tell him how good it was, as though the man wouldn’t know. I usually wait until I’ve finished a book to say stuff like that. But anyone who has been tortured by Linda Newbery and Malorie Blackman must be good.

Sorry, that should be tutored. Bridget (that’s who B R really is, and I think J K R is enough, so no more of this initials rubbish) went on an Arvon course with Linda and Malorie, although Linda says Bridget had already written The Traitor Game by then, so won’t take any credit for the book.

Did anyone notice me saying what a good book this is? Sometimes I despair a little when the jiffybags keep coming (I’m grateful, really) and I see book after book I’m not desperately keen on reading. This time, however, the book spoke to me immediately, and I just knew it’d be good. Must be the witch in me.

The Traitor Game is about Michael and Francis. They have a secret fantasy world, which takes on a life of its own in this story. So, part of the book is fantasy, but most of it is boy problems in and out of school. Bullying and being gay, are right up there with betraying your best friend. This is set in a private school, so the background is “nice”.

And speaking of nice; Francis is very nice. It could be that real boys aren’t like him, but I do hope they are. I love him. Funny and intelligent and just wonderful. And his “twin” in the fantasy world is almost as lovely. It is a little weird with the fantasy elements, but I believe they helped make the story stronger in the end.

I hope boys will read this, whether or not it was written by a female. That must be what this initials game is all about. We all read Harry, so why not this?

Author cats

I don’t mean that cats write books. At least I don’t think so. There’s no knowing how much input authors’ cats have where books are concerned. Let me know.

A while ago I was on a cat thread, and threatened to offer more on cats. While I’m searching for an elusive picture book (could it be we don’t actually own a copy?), I’ll have a go at those who make the books happen, instead.

I’ve noticed that writers very often write a lot about their cats on their blogs or websites or wherever. I feel I may know more about authors’ cats than authors’ children, which is as it should be. Children should be left alone, and not be embarrassed further, unless they are mine.

Authors are more cat people than dog people, or perhaps that’s just how it seems. There are the lurchers belonging to Cathy Cassidy and Meg Rosoff. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have known what lurchers are like at all, when one turned up in Linda Newbery’s Flightsend. I can’t recall any other literary dogs, right now.

Lurcher in her book aside, I believe Linda is a cat person. And Cathy Hopkins keeps her fans updated on her cats. As do countless others. Nick Green even seems incapable of being photographed without one. I get the impression that the cats are the bosses, and any writing of books has to be arranged around the cats and their comforts.

With Nick as the exception, I think it’s only female writers who talk about their cats. Or dogs. Why?

Please write in and tell me. And if you happen to own an axolotl or anything else interestingly different, do let me know. I’ll continue the search for that cat book.

Flightsend

Flightsend by Linda Newbery is a summery book. Linda often does summers, and she does them well. I just can’t decide whether I would have liked to read Flightsend in the winter, when I could have dreamed of summers in the countryside, or if it’s better now that it is summer – supposedly – and I can get in the mood. But I don’t have the weather and I don’t have the countryside, and I mind. Dreadfully.

This is an old new book, i.e. it’s just been re-issued, which is a good thing, as I didn’t read it before. There’s a nice, soothing, calm feeling to Linda’s stories. Not much happens, in a way, but it doesn’t need to. In this case it’s about Charlie and her Mum, who move to the cottage called Flightsend, out in the country, just before Charlie sits her GCSEs.

They’ve had some bad things in their lives recently, and this is a new start. They adopt a stray lurcher, and Charlie finds a part time job. She deals with her Mum’s problems, and with some of her own. Things work out in the end, though not necessarily quite as you expect. I’m very grateful that the pond didn’t cause what I thought would be inevitable, as I was mentally holding my breath.

It’s a day-to-day kind of story, told in a charming way.

Selina Penaluna

What an interesting name! And it makes for a good book title, too.

Linda Newbery emailed me months ago to say she had read this new book by Jan Page, and she thought I would like it. She pointed out it wasn’t so horribly mermaid-ish as the blurb might suggest, and Linda’s right. It’s about a young girl in Cornwall during the war, who thought she was a mermaid.

The story is told from several points of view, and in the present as well as in the past. Twins Jack and Ellen are evacuated from London to Cornwall, and their lives are changed forever.

It’s an interesting story, but I’m puzzled as to why anyone feels this is a children’s book. It’s not scary or complicated, but I would not expect most children or teenagers to have the patience required to read it. Personally I feel it’s an adult book, which just happens to deal with young people in the past. Think Rosamund Pilcher, or similar. Much of the tale is seen from the point of view of a woman of 77, looking back, and also about her problems with young people today. Adult, I think.

Finns

No, not the people who live in Finland. Those others, who keep popping up in fiction. What’s with the name Finn? It tends to be a certain type of fictional character who’s called Finn, or Finnigan. I wonder why?

My most recent example is Finnigan in Sonya Hartnett’s Surrender. He’s a real wild one.

Linda Newbery has a mysterious, if older, Finnigan in her new book Nevermore.

And the free boy in What I Was by Meg Rosoff is called Finn.

I’m fairly sure Celia Rees has a Finn in one of her horror books, set in South West Wales. Again, a sort of free spirit.

I love the name, but find it strange how it gets used. I wonder about the thought processes that determine what name an author gives their characters. Is it along the lines of “I’ve got this outsider type, romantic character, so let’s go in the Celtic/Irish direction and name him Finn”?

Even Kian in Cathy Cassidy’s Scarlett has the same ring to it. What other romantic names of this kind are there?

What authors say

Just as I expect Francesca Simon’s guests on Thursday evening could manage to be both happy for her success and envious that their own sales aren’t quite as good, it’s interesting to observe authors and see and hear what they say, or don’t say.

Some only talk about their own work, and don’t even seem to be too modest to say how good they believe they are. Thankfully not many are like this. And there’s Henning Mankell, who as I pointed out the other day, doesn’t even recognise his own work when he sees it.

Many authors go out of their way to suggest other writers and books that they think I’d like. Sometimes they are wrong, but often they are quite right and I’m grateful for ideas. Linda Newbery has been known to send emails with suggestions.

Tim Bowler spent ages during a school talk some years ago “selling” Melvin Burgess’ book Doing It. I think Tim almost forgot his own books while explaining quite how hilariously funny and worthwhile this controversial book of Melvin’s is.

Adele Geras is also very helpful and recommends books she likes in her website newsletter. Meg Rosoff is forever pointing me in the direction of her friends’ books. Do you people think I have unlimited time for reading?

Then we have Son’s “party trick” of asking every author he meets what they think of Philip Pullman. He even has me do it for him if he’s not there. Whether the authors he asks are always honest I don’t know, but they tend to have good manners, so will usually say something positive. And I’d say that most of the time it sounds as if they mean it.

When Lionel Shriver got the Pullman question, her answer was of the more unusual variety. She said “Who?”