Bookwitch

No, that’s not an author, it’s a book title. Meg Rosoff has a new picture book out, and this is not it. Trouble is, not even Meg has a copy of the new one yet, so I’ll go for the old one.

When I bought Meet Wild Boars a couple of years ago, I wasn’t sure what to make of it, until Daughter read it to me. Then it made sense. Well, you know, not sense, but it was as it should be. It’s easy to forget when the children get so old that they don’t have books read to them, that sometimes that is exactly the point of some books. And picture books more than others.

So thanks to Daughter I learnt that Wild Boars has to be read out. But not necessarily to a young child. Boris, Morris, Horace and Doris are pretty awful. They’re boars, and I’m guessing invented by or for Meg’s daughter. They have their uses, those girls.

The illustrations by Sophie Blackall are not pretty, but intentionally so. The information on the book jacket about Meg and Sophie, is at least as good as the book. And I found one review saying the book was so awful they threw it away. Don’t believe it.

Last night Daughter, feeling a bit depressed, started reading Wild Boars to me again. She had forgotten that Meg had signed the book to her, so coming across that very friendly greeting, cheered her up considerably. So to jump to the purpose of having books signed; that could be one. Making the signee happy.

This sounds so awfully worthy that I’m almost ashamed. The Resident IT Consultant forced a copy of the New Scientist on me the other evening, saying I might want to read the bit on books.

They had talked to a number of scientists (what else?) about books that inspired them when they were young. Quite interesting, in a quirky way. Only the women dared mention anything vaguely childish in the way of books. Whether that’s because the men never were childish, weren’t inspired by children’s books or didn’t think it right to mention, will remain a mystery.

Alice in Wonderland, Doctor Doolittle, and Tarzan will have to count as children’s choices. Not sure about A Mathematician’s Apology, The Art of the Soluble, One Two Three Infinity, or The Mind of a Mnemonist. Wow. Heartily approve of The Foundation Trilogy.

Having got this far, I’m beginning to suspect that you won’t let me finish without giving you mine. It will have to be Five On A Treasure Island. And I refuse to blush. After that it could be many others, but perhaps I wouldn’t have those if I hadn’t had the Blyton to begin with? You wouldn’t be sitting reading this drivel if it weren’t for the Five. Makes you think, doesn’t it?

This isn’t MY cover picture, which I couldn’t find. Couldn’t even find my book to take a photo… But this is nice enough.

Another newsflash, so to speak. You were so good with the pink comments last week, that we have moved across to the Guardian today.

I found this on Sara O’Leary’s blog, and immediately needed to copy her. I also tried to print it out for myself, and failed utterly, because it’s rather big. So I might not be able to have it as a poster, after all.

But it reminds me of why reading is so wonderful. Don’t know why I need reminding, but it’s always good to see this kind of thing, and Quentin Blake’s illustrations are always lovely.

I think this link might take you somewhere where you can print your own, or not. Does anyone have a mega printer?  Even my Apple teacher says he hates printers, and you’d think he would know how to get round any problems.

Here is the new address for anyone wanting to donate to Siobhan Dowd’s Trust.

The BBC had the good sense to turn to Simply Books for a piece on the You and Yours programme on Good Friday. They spent fifteen minutes discussing children’s books featuring disability, which is about time. It seems that publishers think stupid thoughts like “there’s already a book out there which deals with disability, so we don’t need another one”.

They visited the shop and met up with some of the young reviewers there, who had each been given a book to read. It’s good to hear how well they spoke about their thoughts on the books. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time was one (obviously) and it was given to someone who’d never have considered the book otherwise, as it looked too young.

Among other books recommended I was pleased to find Siobhan Dowd’s The London Eye Mystery. So that we don’t equate disability with Asperger Syndrome; has anyone got suggestions for really good disability books?

The programme can be heard again for the next week on the BBC website.

The witch rarely makes it to such exalted neighbourhoods as Mayfair, but there are exceptions, and Wednesday night was one. I was about to say that it was that nice man David Fickling who invited me, but it was more the lovely Nina Douglas. Anyway, it’s rare to be invited to anything, and that’s quite understandable, really. This time we got together to mark the publication of Siobhan Dowd’s third novel, Bog Child, and also to be reminded of Siobhan’s trust to help children read. I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating; send some money to Polly Nolan at the trust. Please!

David Fickling, Polly Nolan, Geoff Morgan, Rachel Billington and Tony Bradman

The venue was very elegant, and the drinks and nibbles were wonderful. As you know, or have long suspected, the witch is next to useless at mingling and stuff, but it went surprisingly well. I talked to people I know and was also introduced to new and interesting book people. Also at last got to talk to Siobhan’s husband Geoff in person.

I arrived too early, which is unacceptable even to a Swede, and a hasty manouvre to the ladies room brought me face to face with Fiona Dunbar, and I have insulted her in some pink way, but we will work on this. I hasten to add that Fiona was as friendly as always. Lee Weatherly was there, too. Not in the ladies, though. Anthony McGowan even recognised me, and Meg Rosoff made a late appearance after traipsing round Mayfair for a bit.

To prevent this looking like a shopping list, I will refrain from mentioning everyone else. Some of the conversations will no doubt be useful here later on. My head is buzzing with ideas and gossip, but with a memory like a grapefruit (or should that be goldfish?) you can never be certain it won’t get forgotten.

You can always hope.

It was good to see Sue Arnold in the Guardian on Saturday recommending the, by now, oldish unabridged reading of His Dark Materials. Unlike many “plain” readings, this is better still. Philip Pullman himself reads the story, with actors reading the dialogue. This is where we, at least, have formed our opinion of how Lyra should speak. And the audio Iorek is far superior to the film Iorek.

We first listened to this in the car driving to Scotland for Christmas about eight years ago. It was just right for the trip north and the return home again. The very last bit had to be finished as we unpacked the car. It also taught us not to underestimate our seven-year-old. We had assumed that she was too young to understand or enjoy the book. When she insisted on catching up with what she missed when asleep taught us the value of audio books. They really make books very accessible.

The trip I made to Oxford the other week has finally resulted in another interview. Put down on the computer screen, I mean. The interviewing all got done on the day. Mary Hoffman was kind enough to spare some time to see me over pots of tea at the Q I Building in Turl Street. That counts as Pullman territory, so felt just right.

My other reason for travelling to Oxford, apart from enjoying a day out, was to meet Lowebrow, of blog fame. I first came across Lee on Dina Rabinovitch’s blog last year, before she ventured over here for a look. So, in effect, I did what I wasn’t too keen on Son doing a couple of years ago - I went to meet someone I’d met on the Internet.

It was a good day, and lovely to meet several interesting people. And thanks to Mary, Lee and I had a great Lebanese dinner. It could easily become a standard watering hole for the witch.

When I woke up yesterday I knew I was going to blog about my helicopter ride. I felt it was the kind of thing you would appreciate. This was until it dawned on me that it was a dream. So no helicopter blog. Sorry.

I’m glad to see Terry Pratchett is still doing OK and writing books. Fast. He’s a big favourite with Son, and the news about his illness a few months ago, was met with dismay. I like him too, but haven’t got the time to read, let alone re-read, too many Pratchetts. I’m very fond of The Truth. Maybe it’s because it’s about writing.

Wonder if Stockport library still has a ban on under sixteens reading Terry Pratchett? It’s one of these surreal things you hardly believe can be happening. I love librarians. I really do. So why do so many of them still say such strange things?

Son has countless Discworld quotes for every situation. I have one, but it’s a good one; “Road Works Ahead”. And it didn’t. It was all dug up.