Tag Archives: Chris Riddell

Eight I’ve read

At last. A list I’ve read. I’m beginning to like Daniel Hahn even more. Clearly great minds think alike.

For the Guardian Daniel has chosen eight of the best YA novels, suitable – indeed highly recommended – for adults. And I’ve read them all, which I suppose isn’t so strange, really. I thought when I saw the list that they were all recent books, but YA hasn’t been around all that long, so it’s understandable.

I probably wouldn’t have chosen exactly that list, but I could have.

And I realise I should never have absolved Daughter from having to read The White Darkness. She asked, only a week or so ago, whether she still had to read it, and I said no. It is such a tremendous book. (Is it too late to force her now?) Fancy Daniel picking Revolver by Marcus Sedgwick! Very good choice. Henry Tumour by Anthony McGowan. That was a long time ago now, and I almost didn’t consider it a death/cancer novel, but I suppose it is.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, of course. The odd thing is that when I read it, I was – almost – not keen on Chris Riddell’s illustrations. I thought I preferred Dave McKean’s. Well, a witch can change her mind. Siobhan Dowd’s A Swift Pure Cry; the book I thought I might not like because I had set notions about that ‘kind of plot’… What an idiot I was. But it’s a testament to Siobhan’s writing skills that this ‘kind of plot’ can be marvellous.

Kit’s Wilderness by David Almond is the one book I remember less well. Possibly because at the time I read several of David’s books in quick succession. Patrick Ness gets three books in, as Chaos Walking is a trilogy, but you can’t have just the one part. For me they are books that have grown in stature over the years. And finally, Mal Peet’s Life: An Exploded Diagram. One of the best. And now there will be no more.

I know that I tend to preach to the converted here on Bookwitch, but I hope that a few of today’s readers are doubting adults, who would never dream of reading YA. Until today. Because this is such a good start to a new life of reading YA books.

Lucky you.

Cartoons

I won’t even pretend to understand what’s going on in France, but it can’t be ignored.

Cartoons are something you tend to remember. Pictures stick in your mind longer than a novel might, and any accompanying words will stay with you longer as well. But generally you don’t need words.

There are old cartoons that I still ‘take out’ and think about every now and then. Like the (humorous) one of new Swedish prime minister Fälldin in 1976, greeting a surprised Fidel Castro. Or the one of the grounded Russian sub and its defecting sailors in the south Swedish archipelago in 1982.

And the heart-rending one by Steve Bell after Dunblane in 1996. It’s very hard to forget.

Below are a few I’ve seen on facebook this week, by Sarah McIntyre, Chris Riddell and Albert Uderzo.

Sarah McIntyre

Chris Riddell, Je suis Charlie

Albert Uderzo, Moi aussi je suis un Charlie

Goodwill, to some

Before we all succumb to Christmas cheer and goodwill, I can’t resist mentioning this, to anyone who didn’t already read it in last week’s Guardian Review.

I love Lucy Mangan. I have, for some reason never managed to like Russell Brand. I have worried – probably unnecessarily – that I’m being unfair in this. I really like Chris Riddell and I have a strong admiration for Neil Gaiman’s work.

I envy Lucy’s power as a Guardian reviewer (although, where is she most of the time? I miss Lucy!), and the fact that when I want to be mean on Bookwitch, I run it past Thumper’s mum first, and then usually resist my urges. You can always say nothin’ at all.

So, it cheered me immensely to find Lucy writing this about Russell’s new book: ‘Chris Riddell’s tumbling, vigorous, plentiful illustrations give the book a beauty it does not deserve and a coherence the text does not deliver. It pains me to think how often he must have had to read the thing…’

I agree that illustrating Neil’s new children’s book was most likely a more satisfying task. I don’t know what The Sleeper and the Spindle is like, however. For some reason I receive very few books from this publisher, and after considerable email exchanges last year about Fortunately, the Milk, I ended up buying a copy. I feel sufficiently raw after that experience, that I will not mention this new book to the publisher.

It must have been something I said. This time I consulted with Thumper’s mum and she reckoned it was all right to write what I’ve just put in this blog post. But I’ll stop here.

Lizday

At 9.59 there was considerable panic among Horrid Henry fans. Parents were seen running with their children across Charlotte Square, and then back again a minute or so later. It’s also known as ‘I didn’t need the toilet before but now I do.’ The event started at 10.

Liz Kessler

Francesca Simon

My first – literary – port of call was with Liz Kessler. I then had half an hour in which to take pictures of her signing, run across the square to see if I could catch Francesca Simon still at it, and then get myself to my second event with Gill Lewis. That’s when I remembered I had a book I wanted Liz to sign, and being a popular sort lady she still had a long queue and I wasn’t anywhere near the front of it. So I thrust the book at her publisher Fiona Kennedy and asked her to see to it that Daughter got an autograph. Surprisingly, Fiona seemed to know who I was.

Gill Lewis

Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell

After Gill’s event I had slightly longer, so had time to take pictures of her, and to dash across the square for Chris Riddell and Paul Stewart in the other signing tent. Had to remember to go back to base and get my hopefully signed book back. Then I went to meet Caroline Lawrence, whose Saturday event I had been forced to miss, but who very kindly sacrificed some of her time on me today.

Norse monster

Norse monster

Norse monster

Kate O'Hearn

We decided there was time for an ice cream – because we both carried spare food in our rucksacks, so didn’t need lunch – and we exchanged news and discussed what’s hot and what she’s working on now, and then she ran on to hear Kate O’Hearn, whose rather fantastic team of Norse monsters were a sight to behold. I caught up with them in the bookshop an hour later, where they chatted to babies (who will never forget this early literary experience) and posed and were generally rather unsusual.

Michael Rosen

Meanwhile I had found Michael Rosen signing across the square, talking to his young fans with his normal charm and performing facial acrobatics. He too had caused a late rush on the toilets, so that seems to be a hazard with young fans.

Simon Armitage

‘Backstage’ I found Carol Ann Duffy and I saw Peter Guttridge at a safe distance from sleeve-tugging. Again. While I waited for Simon Armitage to come to his photocall, Kate O’Hearn and her monsters returned, and thanks to Chris Close I got another opportunity to snap these fantastic creatures.

Kate O'Hearn

Elizabeth Wein

Elizabeth Laird

Chris Riddell

My final event this book festival was another couple of Elizabeths; Laird and Wein. I even had a few minutes during which to take photos of Liz and Liz, as well as of Chris Riddell who was still signing away an hour after his Goth Girl talk, before I ran off to find a tram to the airport. It was high time to collect Daughter from her Californian adventure.

Goth wins Costa

Chris Riddell, Goth Girl

Congratulations to Chris Riddell for winning the Costa children’s book award with Goth Girl and the Ghost of a Mouse. Both Ada and the poor little mouse deserve this. And so does my favourite political cartoonist author.

(I have to admit I suspected Chris would win when I saw that Josh Lacey had reviewed the book for the Guardian on Saturday.)

Winning such an award is no less than you would expect for a book that has ‘shiny purple sprayed edges … foil endpieces, … ribbon bookmark, … footnotes in the margin.’ It is not just a pretty book. It’s an intelligent one, as well. It is a book that makes for a good read whatever your age. And in times of need you can always stroke the sheer purpleness of it.

Chris Riddell

It would be very nice indeed if Chris could go on and win the ‘full Costa’ on 28th January. More power to children’s books!

Learning and playing

For the very young Nicola Killen has written two new boardbooks on Noises (as if children need help with that!), and on Opposites. Both books have liftable flaps which makes it a lot more fun. The Noises book is fairly obvious, inviting parents to roar like lions. You know the drill. The Opposites are more varied, and it’s not only small versus big.

I am increasingly realising Offspring were deprived at that stage.

Nicola Killen, Opposites and Noises

As the readers get older, or maybe just more capable, you can move on to alphabet books. Kelly Bingham and Paul O Zelinsky (they almost manage the A to Z with their own names…) have written a slightly different one; Z is for Moose. Yes, quite.

It is slightly crazy, with a moose who is impatiently waiting for his letter ( and I bet the mouse was too), and then trying to slip in wherever he can. Queen Victoria wasn’t amused.

Kelly Bingham and Paul O Zelinsky, Z is for Moose

Counting Sheep by Kathryn Cave and Chris Riddell isn’t exactly your normal bedtime book either. Here you have a boy who doesn’t settle for counting sheep and then falling asleep in an obliging way.

The book is a little like a board game and there is so much happening I’m not sure anyone will be sleeping. Learning to count might well be a success, however. Although, once you’ve looked at all the fantastic detail in Chris’s illustrations you could possibly feel a little sleepy.

Kathryn Cave and Chris Riddell, Counting Sheep

More adventurous games for readers in Kristina Stephenson’s Charlie Stinky Socks and the Tale of the Wizard’s Whisper. It’s a bit of a wild goose chase, actually, but all is well in the end.

Kristina Stephenson, Sir Charlie Stinky Socks and the Tale of the Wizard's Whisper

Fortunately, the… whatever

Guinea pig?! I felt more like a cow. (No, don’t say it.)

Unfortunately I had been reading about cows on my way in to Manchester, on a most unwitch-like train, i.e. one that didn’t leave hours in advance. I felt so little inclination to go and hear Neil Gaiman yesterday afternoon, that I cut it finer than one should with British style rail travel.

Unfortunately, that was totally fine. I arrived at the Dancehouse theatre with 15 minutes to spare and thought it was going swimmingly. After which thought we ended up penned in rather like cattle, waiting forever to be allowed in. Stairs and reception and café filled up with eager Gaiman fans, plus a few small children (whose event this really was).

I decided that if things got any worse I’d just go home again, wondering why I’d come in the first place. I like Neil Gaiman. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like crowds, and he collects them. But I can put up with crowds if treated humanely. I wasn’t alone in waiting it out on the other side of the doors, near the toilets. Fortunately, once we were allowed up the stairs, my number seat was the right number seat and so I was allowed in. (But we still had to wait for everyone to be seated, and the whole event was train-like in running half an hour late.)

Why was I not keen? Everything about this book has gone not to plan. Publisher didn’t send me a copy. I had to buy my own when that became evident. The complimentary ticket for the event didn’t materialise, so I had to buy my own at the 11th hour. The crowds, as I said. The fact that there is no way I’ll stand in a queue for three hours to have a book signed. The fact that I’m old and grumpy. And a cow.

You could say that the whole thing was threatening to curdle. I decided not to get my camera out. I’d just sit there and ‘not be on duty.’

But, you know, once Neil came on stage he worked his usual magic. He is a born entertainer, and he does events so effortlessly that even I started to feel all calm and relaxed and almost happy. His voice is nice to listen to.

Neil Gaiman

(This is a photo of Neil. Try to imagine a red curtain in the background, and that his hair doesn’t hang down across his eyes quite so much. In which case he almost looked like this.)

He said we’d be guinea pigs. He wanted to test read a longer piece from Fortunately, the Milk… than he usually does. Lying in training for Westminster on Tuesday, when he has to read it all.

As for himself he is obviously a goldfish. Or two. He’s the dad who was exchanged for two goldfish. In a way the milk book is simply a continuation of the goldfish book, and an attempt to come up with a positive book for dads.

Neil talked about his very young book, Chu’s Day. Cute pandas who sneeze, apparently. Only, I didn’t hear – didn’t know – the title, so when he asked what we thought the next book would be called, I felt Wednesday seemed appropriate.

Btw, I didn’t take notes.

He recounted how it came about that Chris Riddell would illustrate Fortunately, the Milk…, this the shiniest book in history. And Neil is about the only one who doesn’t find the charicature of himself all that amusing.

Then it was question time. Say what you want about his fans, but they ask good questions. Not all of them were fans, however, so a pattern developed where the person doing the asking qualified how fan-like they considered themselves to be.

One question was about Terry Pratchett, and in the end we all felt we were privy to some personal secret (and I don’t mean ‘when Terry slept with Neil,’ which he did, when they were both younger and poorer and didn’t buy the hotel first if they had to stay somewhere), and that’s a great skill to have. Neil even made the last rather pedestrian question sound exciting, because he was able to make the answer really special.

At the end of all that, ‘we will do some signing.’ Though Neil reckoned it would be best if he signed, until his head fell off, and the rest of us waited patiently in line.

Well, I didn’t do that, so I have no idea how long his head stayed put. Here is a photo someone took earlier, showing what Neil looks like when signing.

Neil Gaiman

‘Did you enjoy that?’ said the adult to the small child behind me. Small child said nothing. This was not a small child event, whatever the organisers say.

Now me, I did enjoy it. In the end. Neil always delivers. But I’d be happier without the crowds.