Tag Archives: Mal Peet

2 x Mal

Mal Peet

I’ve been sitting on a couple of lovely pieces about Mal Peet. You’ve probably seen them already. There was a hashtag – I think – which I can no longer find.

David Fickling on his pride at ‘ripping the arse out of Mal’s book.’

Anthony McGowan remembering his first meeting with Mal.

There will be plenty more like that, but I didn’t stack them all up, so you’ll have to look for them yourselves. If you didn’t already, of course.

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.

Farewell to Mal Peet

Football. Who’d have thought I’d like novels about football quite so much? The answer is that I obviously wouldn’t, had it not been Mal Peet who’d written them. And now Mal Peet has died, which is not only a dreadful loss for his family and friends (one of whom was thoughtful enough to let me know how things were, only a week before Mal died), but for his readers.

Mal Peet

Lots of people write very good books. Only a few manage what Mal Peet did, which is to write exceptional books. I remember the buzz on Facebook among his peers, last September when the proofs for The Murdstone Trilogy became available. I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite so much admiration, or read so many quotes, as I did then. And they were right. Murdstone is a marvellous take on fantasy literature, executed in a way only an expert could.

I felt then that it was really quite autobiographical in many ways, despite Mal -sort of – saying it wasn’t. And when I re-read the ending of the book just the other day, it felt even more as though he had put himself in there.

Mal Peet

Mal didn’t have hundreds of novels published. There wasn’t time for that. I don’t know if he wrote hundreds. That wouldn’t surprise me. I believe I’ve read all the published ones, and they belong to the category of books you just don’t get rid of. The Keepers. And now that I knew Murdstone was going to be Mal’s only adult novel, I simply had to go and move it from the adult section, to join its siblings on the YA shelves. It didn’t seem right to have poor Murdstone sitting there on his own, as it were.

I only met Mal a few times. First when he won the Guardian prize in 2009. And then at the Edinburgh Book Festival in 2010 and 2011. I introduced myself again, but it seems he remembered me. Mal even allowed himself to be taken out to ‘the tree’ for a photography session.

Mal Peet

Thank you for everything.

(I must add the link to Meg Rosoff’s tribute to her dear friend in today’s Guardian. I will be discreet and not ask who she’d like to see dead instead.)

The tributes are piling up, as are old interviews, so here are a few more links: Guardian obituary, Tim Wynne-Jones, BookBrowse, Achuka. And on Open Book with Mariella Frostrup.

The Murdstone Trilogy

I am very grateful to Mal Peet. He may have written a novel bearing the title The Murdstone Trilogy, but it isn’t. A trilogy, I mean. And he has the sense to point this out in a message from the author, so the reader can relax and settle down with his bleddy fantastick nobble. (What’s more, this nobble from David Fickling Books is an adult nobble, which is interesting for someone you connect with children’s books. But DFB can do what they like, and they clearly like this book, and so do I.)

Mal seems to have set out to write a non-fantasy story. But for an anti-fantasy writer (if that’s what he is) Mal knows a lot about fantasy. (Btw, he claims it’s not autobiographical, but I was unable to read it without visualising Mal as his hero Philip Murdstone.)

Mal Peet, The Murdstone Trilogy

More than one recent novel claims to deal with the publishing world, but I haven’t seen anything that does it quite like this. What do I know? But it seems so very true. Why should the author Philip Murdstone keep writing worthy books about brave children, when his agent needs him to write a bestselling fantasy?

This non-trilogy trilogy (I mean it is a trilogy, in that it’s divided into three parts. But it’s all there, which is more than one can say for Mr Murdstone) is like nothing else. My online social circle of literary people kept going on about Mal’s book as though it’s the best thing since sliced bread, so I had to ask to be allowed to have a taste, and it is. People were falling over each other to quote the best quote from the book. This is really very rare, even for people who will – rightly – praise each other’s work.

You can’t describe it, and if you could it would serve to ruin the experience for anyone else. Let’s just say that Devon is over-run by weird stuff happening . Maybe that’s normal there. What do I know? But Philip Murdstone ends up living his fantasy, which is the book, the trilogy, he must write. It’s enough to drive anyone over the edge.

(I was there when Mal won the Guardian prize. I sincerely hope he hasn’t been Murdstoning about the countryside with gremlins and people with interesting accents since then. He deserves better. Let him not write fantasy. If that’s what he wants not to write.)

Writing Children’s Fiction

The trouble with a book like Writing Children’s Fiction: A Writers’ and Artists’ Companion,  is that it makes someone like me believe that they can write a children’s book. It is that good, and it is above all, that inspiring.

(So avoid at all costs if you don’t want to sit down and write a book just now.)

Linda Newbery and Yvonne Coppard provide loads of good advice for the budding author, based on how they themselves go about writing. Linda, for instance, began by wanting to be Monica Dickens. (Makes a change from all of us who thought we were Enid Blyton.)

Along with their own tried and tested methods, they have invited the cream of British children’s authors to share their thoughts on what to do. Or not to do. Many of them started off making beginner’s mistakes. Now that they have done it for you, your own path will be that much straighter.

I was pleased to learn Mal Peet made Marcus Sedgwick concerned with his flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants technique. A little more worried by Meg Rosoff decking an interviewer for saying writing looked easy. Tim Bowler was a child prodigy if he’s to be believed, and Mary Hoffman has had a lifelong love affair with her muse, Italy.

Once inspiration has you in its grips, there are workshops on every possible aspect of writing books. And because these ladies don’t seem to doubt that my (your) book will get published, there are links to useful consultancies, blogs and how to get a school visit arranged.

And how could you fail? There are so many tips, not to mention inspirational tales in Writing Children’s Fiction, that you will be absolutely fine. Anne Fine, who has written the foreword, wishes she had had access to this kind of guide when she began, instead of doing it the hard way.

I will try to refrain from embarking on a book, but will be happy to review yours when it’s done. Always assuming you have followed the advice and made it a good one. But you will.

Call Down Thunder

It’s good. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect that Call Down Thunder is one of the best books I’ve read this year.

Written by Daniel Finn, who is really Will Gatti, and whose books I had quietly ignored after we met four years ago at the Bolton award. Not that I didn’t trust him to be good, but you know how it is. Very grateful that Will/Daniel suggested I might like this book.

Daniel Finn, Call Down Thunder

Call Down Thunder is not like other books, but a little Mal Peet-y if I have to describe it. Set in some Latin American country – I think – real, or made up, doesn’t matter. It’s got the right feel.

Young fisherman Reve and his sister Mi have been living with Tomas in the small fishing village Rinconda since their father was murdered and their mother disappeared. Mi suffers from weird fits, and has taken to living in a wrecked car on the beach, while Reve tries to be a good boy and friend and brother.

After a couple of bad things happen in Rinconda, Reve and Mi go to the big city to find their mother. More bad things happen to the two country teenagers who have never been out of their village before. It’s a tough and violent life, and a poor one, but with Mi’s second sight, and Reve’s hard work and courage, they eventually ‘arrive somewhere’ and can go on with living.

Daniel/Will has packed a lot into 300 pages. There is absolutely no waffle, and the dialogue is in some sort of dialect, which curiously enough doesn’t grate on the reader’s eyes. It’s just perfect. There’s a whole cast of fascinating characters, and so very believable.

You must read this. It’s yet more proof that the best books aren’t necessarily written by the best known writers.

The Penalty

Sometimes I stop and ask myself how I can be sure that a book is good. When I am already reading it, is what I mean. If it flows easily and is exciting or romantic or whatever. Does that alone make it good?

And then along comes a book like Mal Peet’s The Penalty and there is no need to wonder, because you just know you are in the presence of greatness. Even when it’s a book – partly – about football.

This was the one I missed before, and I was wondering what to do about it when I discovered that Walker are re-issuing Mal’s older novels to fit in with the oh so gorgeous design of his new one, Life: An Exploded Diagram. I had worried in case it might be wrong to read the second Paul Faustino book last (I began with the third and then went on to the first), but it was fine.

Mal Peet, The Penalty

The Penalty is a book about two things. First there is the football, featuring a new and very young star player, El Brujito. Journalist Paul Faustino happens to be in his home town soon after the player mysteriously disappears. The second topic is African style religion, which isn’t voodoo, but was probably inspired by it. The reader is introduced to the ancient slave trade, and there is a mix of the now with the then, and the setting of San Juan being the thing in common.

Neither is your ordinary YA topic, and the question here is how do we know it is a YA book? With the exception of meeting some of the characters at age 14, they are all adults. But you sort of know it’s a YA novel. Latin America, football, politics, religion, and all written in a grown-up way, but still…

It all ties together quite neatly, and the end is… well, it’s different.

I like Paul Faustino, and I like Mal Peet. This is what good is. In case I wonder again.