Children’s Literature and Bereavement

What I’m doing in this post is doing something that I hold very close to my heart. You may be aware that I have a couple of reading lists that I host on this blog. They cover topics that I’ve got a particular interest in or strength of knowledge or topics that I want to research further. They are lists that are constantly growing as I add to them anything I find that comes under their respective headings, titles that I’ve read or heard about or been recommended. And they’re editable by anyone, so please do feel free to add anything you think I’ve missed.

Here’s my one on gifted and talented characters in children’s literature.

Here’s my list of  titles in children’s literature that reference menstruation.

It’s now time to add a third. I’ve always had a strong interest in the healing power of books – the bibliotherapy side of literature. I’m fascinated by the way that books help us to cope with the shadowy, inevitable darknesses of life. (Here’s a heartbreaking and wondrous Storify about the healing power of YA literature, for example)

So, because of that, and because of many other reasons to personal to elaborate at this point, my third list is one on bereavement in children’s literature.

What I want this list to be is simple. I want it to cover titles that explicitly address loss. That deal with the process of grieving – of sadness. I don’t endorse these books in any way. I do not guarantee them, nor explicitly recommend them. I am not a professional counsellor in any way and that needs to be noted due to the topic of the list.

But what I do hope is that at some point, when questions are being asked that you may not know how to answer or even if you can, that one of these books may be able to help.

Period.

I read a lot of children’s literature but I don’t read that many that feature periods. Menstruation. That time of the month. Call it what you will, but it’s not an unusual phenomenon. I was reminded of the scarcity of periods in children’s literature after reading this blog post from 2010.

The thing that struck me after reading that was that I don’t think much has changed. I mean, I certainly remember discovering Runaways and swooning with love that it actually mentioned periods. It made that series instantly so much more real to me. And feeling like that was – and is – a rare occurrence  Were it not for Judy Blume and Paula Danziger, I’d be struggling to name authors and titles who acknowledge menstruation. Lord knows it certainly doesn’t occur in my great love of girlsown where the girls magically grow up in a sort of splendid glass-housed isolation.

When puberty came, with its lumps and bumps and hairs, me and my friends found solace in Just Seventeen (and were we from today, I think we’d be weeping with joy over Tumblr). And now that I think of it, we also found a lot of solace in Lady Chatterley’s Lover but that was for, um, slightly different reasons…!

But I digress. I’m looking for recommendations of titles to read – children’s books, picture books, comics whatever. Let me know if you’ve got any ideas where I should start. And I promise to collate the titles together as a reading list which I’ll archive somewhere (here! - Menstruation in Children’s Literature)

PS – I’ll also be updating my list of books featuring gifted and talented characters in the near future – additions always welcome

2012 rewind! The best books I’ve read this year

I’m very lucky in that I have access to an amazing children’s literature library. It’s one of those places that make you skip along the shelves and want to just stroke the spine of every book on the shelf. Even the ones that have been there a little too long, those ones who have gone pale in the sun, have a peculiar appeal. It’s an addictive place to visit. It’s a place that has sourced my best reads of this year. And it’s a place that I know is going to continue to inspire me next year.

So here’s to the best reads of 2012! You’ll see not all of these books were published in 2012, but they are the best books I read this year.  I spent 2012 surrounded by books I liked, and books I loved. And some of those books bordered on utter perfection.

In no particular order, we have:

My David Almond phase with a look at the incredible My Name is Mina and My Dad’s A Birdman. These two books defined the end of the year for me and have had a massive impact on me.

The other author who appears twice on my best of 2012 is Sita Brahmachari (who, if you get to hear speak, is ridiculously charming and coped very well with my geeking out in front of her – sorry Sita ) and her books Artichoke Hearts and Jasmine Skies. Magical, evocative books both.

Patrick Ness’ multi-award winning piece of perfection A Monster Calls appears on my list and to be honest, is in a class of its own. The pairing of Patrick Ness’ spare, elegant text with Jim Kay’s illustrations is world-class.

Another award winning book that’s on my best of 2012 is The Unforgotten Coat by my book Yoda Frank Cottrell Boyce. A gorgeous, sharply heart-breaking, and beautifully produced book.

Then there’s the newcomer (to me!) Guy Bass with his reminder that good things come in small packages. The adorable Stitch Head was superb, moving, and a reminder of all that can be good in children’s books.

I came back to my other book Yoda – Michelle Magorian — and rediscovered her beyond perfect A Little Love Song. Magorian is so superbly gifted, and this book is a gift. She’s one of those effortlessly heartbreaking (and rather amazing) writers.

And finally, I read an amazing picture book and a graphic novel. Alex T Smith dazzled me with the epic and hysterical glory of Claude on Holiday. If you’ve not discovered Claude and Sir Bobblysock, hop to it because you won’t be disappointed. Graphic novel wise, I read a lot of good stuff but loved discovering the work of Gareth Hinds and his magisterial version of Beowulf in particular.

And here’s to 2013!

In pursuit of perfection

I’ve been thinking about the act of reading itself, how sometimes I long for it and need it, and I’ve been wondering why that is. In a way, it’s a sort of hunger. I’ve spoken about it previously on this blog, but I sort of think that reading is a form of addiction. It’s a never-ending search for the heartblow of perfection, delivered when you least expect it.

My highs? I remember them. My catalysts. My talismans. My addictions. The things that started me on this road.

The first ‘death-bed’ scene that made me fold, lose myself, and break down? Gay Lambert at the Chalet School. Here’s my review. EBD’s oeuvre is in one way based around the death-bed scene, but there’s something about the one in this book (spoilers sweetie) that gets me. Breaks me. Always.

The first panel that got me into comics? This. It’s from Note from the Underground and shows the moment after Buffy’s basically gone Super-Slayer and is experiencing an intervention from her Slayer sisters. The Wikipedia precis makes this sound like a hideous book, but it’s truly not. These panels are perfection; they take the Slayer stereotype, what Buffy’s been doing since the book began, and they flip it. Just like that. It’s elegant, simple, and delivers a whole  level of redemption for Buffy herself. It’s beautiful.

1. S: “Welcome Back”
2. B: “I never really went anywhere-” S: “Didn’t you?” B: “Well, if you mean to the “angry place”, then I guess I did”
3. B: “You guys wanted me to chill, huh? We all learn – sooner or later – while we’re alive or after we’re dead … we all learn it’s not about slaying…”
4: B: “It’s about saving…”

The bit of writing that made me love Lorna Hill forever and forgive her all her rubbish later books? This. “I felt that she’d have been even more pleased with my arabesque could she have seen it today. The beauty all around me did something to me inside. I can’t describe what it was, but it made me want to turn my arabesque into something better than it had been before. I wanted to express in my dancing the lovely effect of the sunlight flickering through the trees in the wood, the delicate green of the larches, the grace of the foxgloves growing on the Roman Wall that marched side by side with the road just here.” A Dream of Sadlers Wells (1972:87)

The first stories that made me? Magic, myth, and history. I remember being sat on my dad’s lap, and listening to him read aloud Roger Lancelyn Green’s entire back catalogue. King Arthur and his knights, Odysseus of Troy, and Robin Hood. Learning my stories, my myths and your legends, grounded me and gave me roots. It pushed me onto Robin Jarvis and his awesome Wyrd Museum, it pushed me to Adele Geras and her superb sagas of womanhood – Troy, Ithaka, Dido, it pushed me onto finding Richard the Lionheart’s tomb, and it pushed me to running round the city walls of York and seeing Saxons

So thanks. Thanks for getting me this far. Thanks for making me who I am, thanks for making me be able to chat about Noel Streatfield to complete strangers, to stand on the side of a lake in Austria and nerd out to immense levels, thank you for making me able to reccomend Alex T Smith to strangers, thank you for letting me stand in the bookshop and fall into discussions over the joy, the utter joy, of Herve Tullet.

Thank you.

Here’s to the high.

An esoteric and distinctly biased list of 50 children’s books you probably really should read (part five)

Yay, we did it! This is the final list of my fabulous fifty titles chosen with no rhyme or reason save their general awesomeness! And here (part one, part two, part three, part four) is where you can see all the previous posts that got us to this point. Now, on with the show!

Little Women – Lousia May Alcott

There’s something very eternal about Little Women and I think it’s one of the rites of passage for any reader, and one that remains particularly acute for female readers. Whilst certain elements may be skippable (I’ll never have any issues with anybody who switches off during the Pilgrims Progress shenanigans), there are other moments in this book that lock you to the page.

Similar to : Eight Cousins

Mr Galliano’s Circus – Enid Blyton

Enid Blyton gets a bad rap these days and I think that’s a bit of a shame. For every ‘Six Bad Boys’, there’s a Mr Galliano’s Circus. I always sort of wonder if she was more comfortable about writing about animals then people. There’s a delight and a freshness to this story that remains appealing.

Similar to : Circus Shoes (Noel Streatfield)

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll

This book is epic. There’s a perpetually late rabbit, potions, bitch-Queens, and a stoner cat. And much, much more. It’s epochal.

Similar to : Peter Pan

The Giraffe, and the Pelly and Me – Roald Dahl

Possibly the funniest story about windowcleaning *ever*, this book is an utter joy. It’s one of the Dahl titles that doesn’t seem to be as well known as some of his others, but it happily stands on a par with them. It’s ace.

Similar to : Spike Milligan’s nonsense poetry

Crank – Ellen Hopkins

Written in crystal clear and jagged free verse, this is a very unique book. It’s the story of Kristina and her slow fall into drug addiction. Hopkins writes with painful heart and truth, and actually based a lot of this book around her own daughter and her addiction to crystal meth. A hard, painful, real read full of hurt.

Similar to : Melvin Burgess

Henderson’s Boys : The Escape – Robert Muchamore

The Henderson’s Boy series form backstory behind the amazing CHERUB books by the same author. The Escape is the first in the series and a genuinely brilliant title. It’s almost violently readable and incredibly addictive.

Similar to : the CHERUB books

The Railway Children – E Nesbit

E Nesbit was pretty amazing. This book is stunning. And it’s got a part in it that makes me crumble and cry every time I read it. Plus, Bobbie is one of the most fascinating female literary heroines probably ever.

Similar to : The Famous Five

Tom’s Midnight Garden – Philippa Pearce

If you’ve not read any Philippa Pearce, here’s the place to start (and start you must). She was a very quietly brilliant author and this novel is stunning. Tom is sent away from home to live under quarantine with his Aunt and Uncle. Whilst in his new home he discovers that the house itself and the garden has a whole new side of it come midnight…

Similar to : Charlotte Sometimes

And Tango Makes Three – Justin Richardson

Adorable, gorgeously illustrated, and full of love; ‘Tango’ is the baby penguin adopted by Roy and Silo two male penguins at the zoo. It’s based on true events and is, in a very quiet way, rather amazing.

Similar to : Nothing. This is very gorgeous.

So what’s going to be number 50?

Well, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m not going to put a fiftieth because I sort of have a theory that the best book you’ve ever read is yet to come. That’s the joy about reading books – there’s always something really rather magnificent out there and it’s just waiting for you to find it. So what are you waiting for? Off you go …