Bookwitch

My calendar boy for the month of April is Philip Ardagh. Spent Monday’s dinner agonising over what I might do with April 1st, but luckily Philip is amusing enough for this tricky day. The calendar photo shows him clutching a Japanese translation of one of his books. I forget which one, as it just looks like Japanese to me.

At least it’s not the dead fox.

Serious blogging will, possibly, be resumed tomorrow.

I’ll call it temporary thickness, but it took me a while to work out that Philip Ardagh’s The Not-So-Very-Nice Goings-On at Victoria Lodge, Without Illustrations by the author, is a story. At first glance I’d taken it to be Philip’s re-written comments to each individual picture, only. The pictures being borrowed from The Girl’s Own Paper from the 1890s.

But, it’s actually a story of mystery and intrigue, albeit a short one. It’s sixty pages, with only a brief comment on each page to go with Philip’s chosen illustrations.

It’s a funny story, too. I’d particularly like to know what the satellite dish strapped to the heroine’s back really is. It looks like a satellite dish.

I would guess this isn’t a children’s book. Though you can never be sure with Philip Ardagh. Daughter giggled her way through it quite happily.

Philip Ardagh; I love you. Again, or still, or whatever. Philip Ardagh’s Book of Absolutely Useless Lists for absolutely every day of the year (phew, got there at last) was out yesterday.

Just reading the inside of the dust wrapper made me smile. The corners of my mouth went up to at least well above my ears. After browsing through the book for a short while I had tears streaming down my cheeks. And not because it’s a bad book. The headache that had been with me all day was almost gone, so no, it’s not an entirely useless book either.

Looked up the dates for our family’s birthdays. The Resident IT Consultant and the witch got very short lists, whereas both Son and Daughter got really long ones. Unfair. Son got a list on art. He hates art. Hah.

I’m a listwriter myself, but only of the kind that says clean house, buy food and mow lawn. Things you tick when done. Philip’s lists can go on and on, with no ticking required.

Is there no limit to how funny Philip Ardagh (the very lovely one…) can be? This is a great book (yes, quite big too) and would make a very good Christmas present. And if you suspect nobody would think of buying you a copy, get one for yourself.

The footnotes are almost better than the lists.

When we met yesterday I had a lot of fun with Philip Ardagh. So it’s not just reading his books. He is a particularly nice man. And funny.

Philip seemed surprisingly intrigued by this idiot who started reading Eddie Dickens at the wrong end, and who is then blundering about the books in a totally haphazard order. The current one I’m on has a large amount of snow in it, and it felt quite un-British. Turns out Philip wrote Terrible Times in Stockholm, which makes much more sense. Swedish snow. That’s more like it.

Philip’s way with children is fantastic and is only equalled by his way with adults. I lead a very boring life, and it was a long time since I grinned so much in one day. I’ve never had any deeper thoughts on second hand underwear or stuffed stoats, but I can see how relevant they are. And funny.

Philip delivered the, to my mind, best Philip Pullman quote/observation for Son’s benefit to date. Interesting that both the Philips are Moomin fans. They can come and watch our original language videos any time. Though, I do wonder how Philip P could make out a Moomin tie, any tie, behind all that beard?

He is seriously cool, too, having a past travelling on trains in Sussex with Keane, who only spoke to him because he has written a book with Paul McCartney.

Philip has other books, apart from the two Eddie Dickens trilogies, which incidentally sold like hot cakes yesterday. There’s a funny one where somebody dies on page one. Just what parents want for their young.

And Philip writes his own amusing comments on Victorian magazine pictures. One of his other favourites is the Japanese translation of his book on hieroglyphics. I don’t read as many fact books as I perhaps should, but Philip’s ones look so tempting. And one of them even has a Pullman quote on the back. Unfortunately the publishers had put it on the wrong book.

Philip Pullman covets Philip Ardagh’s Moomin tie. The bookwitch understands PP gazed longingly at PA’s tie when they met.

The two Philips are both big Moomin fans. Well, PP is big, but PA is bigger still. And he does own the tie.

I’ve been having fun with Philip Ardagh recently. And that’s without meeting him in person. For a while I had sort of assumed he was funny, but that maybe he’s more of a little boy’s author. I’m definitely not a little boy. But now I’ll call him a bookwitch sort of author too.

I started at the wrong end. Liking well organised reading I would normally have started reading the first book about Eddie Dickens. On the advice of someone who hadn’t got a clue I started with the sixth and last book instead. Didn’t matter in the least. I think. I didn’t understand much of what happened, but had such a lot of fun while not understanding, that I think it’s fine.

The way Philip treats the English language is marvellous. If he gets little boys reading his books, then I have great belief in the future. (I have a galvanised bucket in my house. It will never be the same after I read Final Curtain.) And don’t get me started on Mad Uncle Jack and Even Madder Aunt Maud. MUJ and EMAM.

If I hadn’t had date with Philip later this month (he doesn’t know that yet) the cover illustrations alone would have kept me from starting on his books. They have most definitely not been designed with middle aged women in mind. I’ve said this before, and I suppose soon I’ll have learnt not to judge a book entirely by its front cover. Perhaps.