Dark Delights

From Tots to Teens, StarMag, 22nd July 2007

MY SWORDHAND IS SINGING
By Marcus Sedgewick
Publisher: Orion, 228 pages
(ISBN: 978-1842555583)

I’VE been trying to remember what it was I used to like about vampires and vampire novels. Of course, I still think Bram Stoker’s Dracula is one of the best gothic novels ever written, but it’s been a while since I called myself an Anne Rice fan. Was I ever in love with Louis, the central character in her Interview with a Vampire? I think I might have been!

In a recent article about Stephenie Meyer’s vampire trilogy, teenage readers gush about Edward Cullen, the heroine’s vampire boyfriend. There are online forums dedicated to him. One girl, in a review posted on amazon.com, describes him as “one of those male fictional characters like Mr Rochester you can’t help but fall in love with”.

In the article (published on Arizona State University’s website, www.asu.edu/news/stories/200705/20070504_prom.htm), a professor discusses how teenagers are drawn to vampires because they identify with these characters and the conflicts they face.

A vampire is an outcast, an outsider, and teens often feel similarly misunderstood and alienated. Vampires are also often depicted wrestling with their conscience and trying to decide between right and wrong – again, just the way teens are.

Finally, vampires are usually drop-dead gorgeous and most of us (girls, especially) find handsome, mysterious men irresistible. Throw forbidden love into the mix and we’re sold. Until, that is, we grow up and realise that handsome mysterious men (non-fictional ones, anyway) are usually just hiding something (usually a girl friend) and will, invariably, want to borrow large sums of money.

Personally, I’m tired of the recent spate of novels about well dressed, immaculately coiffed teenage vampires. I like vampires to scare me, not make me stress about my mismatched wardrobe. The vampires in Marcus Sedgewick’s My Swordhand is Singing (Orion, 228 pages, ISBN: 978-1842555583) are bloated corpses who tear out their victim’s hearts and couldn’t give a toss about the latest Parisian fashions. They scare me. Silly.

The book is set in a small village at the edge of a vast forest. In the first chapter, a man is being pursued by another through the trees. Through the haze of his fear, he realises that he is being hunted by someone who is dead.

It is winter, a few days before St Andrew’s Eve, which the villagers believe is the start of the dark time of the world, when evil walks freely. The woodcutter Tomas and his son Peter, however, do not share in the old beliefs and superstitions. Tomas is an abusive drunkard with a past he hides, obsessively, from his long-suffering son.

Peter is lonely, raised a cynic but naturally curious. He is in love with Agnes, the daughter of the village draper; her father recently died but, it is whispered, he returns nightly to visit his family.

Unfortunately, Agnes is chosen to be the bride of a recently murdered man (a ritual that was once practised in Transylvania). As the bride of a corpse, she has to spend 40 days in isolation, mourning for her husband. This, of course, makes her easy prey for vampires and forces Peter to consider that the stories he has been raised to scoff at are not entirely a load of poppycock.

As Peter tries to separate fact from myth, sense from superstition, a band of gypsies arrive and reveal the truth behind his father’s past.

In his “author’s note”, Sedgewick describes how he researched his story, even travelling to Eastern Europe to learn more about the region’s superstition and folklore. Apart from the supernatural elements, Swordhand probably comes close to describing the life in a typical 17th century village Transylvanian village.

Although it’s unlikely that vampires ever roamed the forests of that land (Transylvania actually means “land beyond the forest”), belief in them was strong and real. So, while we can read Swordhand knowing all along that it is merely a spooky story, the author so successfully conveys the terror experienced by a community that believes in the possibility of falling prey to the undead that even the most sceptical of us might still experience shivers and goose bumps when reading this book.

And while there are no moody, mysterious and devastatingly handsome vampires in My Swordhand is Singing, Peter’s not to be sniffed at either. These days I prefer my men (even fictional ones) alive and kicking.

Lost and Found

From Tots to Teens, StarMag

PETER PAN IN SCARLET
By Gerladine McCaughrean
Publisher: Oxford University Press
(ISBN:978-0192726209)

WHEN dreams begin leaking out of Neverland into this world, Wendy Darling believes that there must be something wrong and proposes a visit to Peter Pan’s home so that the problem can be found and fixed.

But many years have passed since Wendy flew with Pan. She is a grown woman now, with a daughter of her own. Her brother Michael has perished in the war and John is a husband and father, as are most of the Old Boys – who were once Lost Boys, until they were adopted by Mr and Mrs Darling when they returned from Neverland.

Only children can fly to Neverland, though, and so the adults don their children’s clothes and become young again. It’s a case of clothes literally making the man ... and child. And it is a theme that is repeated throughout Geraldine McCaughrean’s official sequel to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan, released worlwide on Oct 5.

Although I have always enjoyed McCaughrean’s books, I didn’t count on liking Peter Pan in Scarlet. However, I was spellbound from ... no, not the first page, but very soon after.

The story builds up slowly: We meet Wendy and the Old Boys and learn a little about their lives post-Peter; our memories of Neverland (red-skins and mermaids, crocodiles and cutlasses) are stirred; we are taken on an expedition to Kensington Park; babies are stalked and a fairy is caught. (It is possible that the fairy, Fireflyer, might just be even more annoying than Tinker Bell.)

The book blossoms once the “children” take off and head for Neverland: “second to the right and straight on till morning.” How things have changed though: Neverland has lost its eternal summer foliage and is now an “ocean of golden orange, and scarlet trees”; Peter wears blood red Virginia creeper and maple leaves, and has forgotten Wendy. He is “dying of boredom”; Tinker Bell has “run off”; the Lost Boys (those who came after the original gang) are all culled for “breaking the rules”.

But with Wendy once again in Neverland, the boy is raring to go, while Wendy and the others, now that they are once again children, forget why they have come back in the first place. Fixing problems is the last thing on their young minds; adventures and quests are uppermost!

And so, The League of Pan go in search of thrills and spills and the story unfolds to reveal secrets and wonders, horrors and terrors, dark deeds and deep disappointments. (By the way, if you can, re-read Peter Pan, the novel, and marvel at the way a seemingly minor although evocative detail at the end of the book has been developed into an important and powerful part of Scarlet’s plot.)

This stunning book celebrates and honours Barrie’s original work by staying true to his ideas and voice. It is also a triumph of McCaughrean’s imagination and inventiveness.

Like Barrie’s tale, this one is magical and exciting, full of action, suspense and danger, high jinks, fun and frolics. But it is also suffused with sadness and anger, resentment and regret.

The best of the action centres around an intriguing new character, the ringmaster Ravello, who comes to work as Peter’s valet when his circus is torched to the ground. He proves to be the key to the mystery of the changes in Neverland, and he himself is the greatest mystery of all. When all is revealed, don’t be surprised if you actually hear the pieces clicking satisfyingly into place.

As for the ending, it is one all mothers (or mothers of Mrs Darling’s ilk, at any rate) will love McCaughrean for. Think reunions and resolutions, closure and comfort. Think a book that is destined to be a classic. Barrie would be proud.

Between Angst and Boredom

From StarMag, 2nd July 2006
Byline: Review by DAPHNE LEE

ENDYMION SPRING

By Matthew Skelton

Publisher: Puffin Books, 352 pages

(ISBN: 0-141-32035-4)

WHILE browsing the shelves in an Oxford University college library, 12-year-old Blake Winters is “bitten” by a book. It is an old volume, with an unusual silver clasp shaped like a snake’s fang – it draws blood! Etched on the cracked leather cover is the name Endymion Spring, but inside, the book is completely blank.

However, as Blake gazes at its finely-veined pages, a verse appears on the paper before him. Intrigued, he decides to find out all he can about the book and soon realises that there are others who are also interested in it and who will stop at nothing to possess it.

Just who or what is Endymion Spring?

Well, in the beginning of the book, we learn that it is the name of a boy who lived in 15th century Germany and was apprentice to Johannes Gutenberg, the man credited with inventing moveable type. In this book Skelton suggests that it is Gutenberg’s patron, Johann Fust, who inspired the story of Faust, the man who sold his soul to the devil.

Historically, Fust sued Gutenberg, effectively bankrupting him. Opinions vary as to whether Fust’s actions were justified. Skelton simply adds supernatural elements to the bare facts, turning Fust into a power-hungry tyrant who has stumbled upon a book that contains the secrets of the universe. Trouble is, not only does the book choose to whom it wants to reveal these secrets, without the blood of a child to feed on, its pages will remain blank.

Endymion Spring unwittingly causes writing to appear in the book and hundreds of years later, Blake finds himself in the same powerful and dangerous position. At first the book is a welcome distraction: His parents aren’t getting on and his mother, an American academic, has “escaped” to Oxford (with Blake and sister, Duck, in tow) to do some research. Blake misses his dad and is angry as hell and bored to tears.

Blake’s first encounter with the book piques the reader’s interest, no thanks to the cheesy bit of doggerel that magically appears on one of its pages. But once he starts actively looking for clues, the whole exercise starts reading and feeling like a chore. Maybe it's because the reader is never ever convinced of Blake’s interest in the book. He’s intrigued, yes, but he’s snooping mainly out of boredom and, partly, to spite his mum.

The subplot, which deals with Blake’s relationship with his mother and the way he copes with separation from his father, is really quite tedious. Did Skelton decide that his hero needed to deal with some personal crisis to make him more believable and sympathetic? The way Blake handles his family problems simply makes him look like a resentful, unreasonable kid who has no intention of trying to understand what’s going on with his parents.

This is probably an accurate portrayal of a typical tween stuck in a place like Oxford University (“What? You mean the Bodleian doesn’t have a Playstation?!”), but it left me really disliking the brat. After all, children’s fiction is full of bratty individuals (Lyra Silvertongue for choice) who still manage to inspire affection and admiration. Not Blake though. His sister, Duck, is even more annoying, and most of the adult characters, who appear in the present-day parts of the book, are no better.

In fact, halfway through Endymion Spring I found myself thinking, “If only Skelton had stayed put in the 15th century.” The story of how the book comes to be and Endymion Spring’s escape from Fust is much more compelling than Blake’s adventures.

Certainly, Fust is a considerably more convincing (even fascinating) villain than the character who is finally revealed as Blake’s arch nemesis. Her transformation from merely slightly sinister to downright devilish is so abrupt and extreme that she might as well have been given cloven hooves, horns and a pitchfork.

By the time Blake’s quest comes to a contrived and hurried end, I was no longer interested in the lad. However, I did want to know more about young Endymion. What secrets did the dragon skin reveal to him and how did he resist the temptation to use the knowledge selfishly? Skelton needs to write another book and, this time, focus on the right boy.

Saving Time

From StarMag

Review by DAPHNE LEE

THE NEW POLICEMAN
By Kate Thompson
Publisher: The Bodley Head, 409 pages
(ISBN: 0-370-32823-X)

I WISH there were more hours in a day.” I say that at least twice a week, usually while doing an uncannily good impression of a headless chicken – running to and fro, wings (arms) flapping, chest heaving.

Most of us, with jobs, lives, children and hobbies, know what it’s like to run out of time. We face this situation on a daily basis, dashing from day care to the office to the pharmacy and back again.

Most of us like to talk, fondly, a little sadly, about the good old days, when we were little and it took forever from one birthday to the next. Now time seems to go quickly for children too. What with school, tuition, music class etc, etc, our kids have less and less time to play, do nothing, and just be kids.

In The New Policeman, the people of the Irish town of Kinvara find that they have no time at all to spare. The old folk say that it’s because there is too much to do. It never used to be like this. The middle-aged Kinvarans, recalling their not-so-distant youth, agree. And the children wonder, “Is this really what life is all about?”

Just how and where does one find more time?

Fifteen-year-old JJ Liddy is tired out, having to juggle school, chores and his social life, which includes fiddling at the dances hosted by that his parents. Music is everything to the Liddys (JJ plays the fiddle beautifully) to the extent that his grandfather, and namesake, is believed (by some) to have murdered a priest who believed that jigging was an evil pastime! As a result, the Liddys have always been treated with reserve, if not suspicion.

Until recently JJ always assumed that it was because his parents weren’t married. Then Helen, his mum, tells him the story of the supposedly murderous JJ Liddy senior (of course, she insists, he didn’t really do it), and throws in the tale of how her own parents never married because her father simply drifted into town one day and then merrily drifted out again, leaving her mum pregnant. It’s then that JJ realises that his fiddle used to belong to his mysterious and absent grandfather.

Helen’s revelations touch a chord in JJ, somehow strengthening the bond between mother and son. Suddenly, it’s terribly important that he do something for her, so when she says that time is all she wants for her birthday, he promises her some. At first, this merely means pitching in a lot more round the house and on their farm, running errands and the like.

Later, JJ is told by a family acquaintance that it may be possible to get his hands on some actual time and he is shown the way to Tír na n’Óg, a parallel world, and a land of eternal youth, inhabited by the Tuatha de Danaan – gods or fairies or just humans with a bit of magical ability, depending on whom you ask.

Tír na n’Óg is, literally, a timeless place – eternally summer, sunny and bright, with no illness and no death. However, in the last 50 years or more (it’s hard to tell since there are no calendars or clocks in this world), the locals have noticed the slow but unmistakable movement of the sun, the passing of minutes, the passage of time.

Is there a leak in the “skin” that separates Tír na n’Óg from the outside world, a leak that is draining all the time from one place to the other? Obviously, having time (or the lack of it) means very different things, depending on which side of the skin you are!

JJ is determined to find the leak and seal it, but he finds himself increasingly distracted by Tír na n’Óg’s music, its people and its ... goats. The latter pop up here and there, in guises alternately hilarious and downright terrifying, and are the most obviously magical things about the place.

I like that about the book. I like that the magic isn’t laid on with a trowel and that there is a distinct lack of strange worlds, apocalyptic prophesies, mysterious sorcerers and rampaging mythological creatures.

Fantasy novels are all the rage these days, and many of them just overdo it. To make things worse, there’s often not a single original thing about these books. Hands up everyone who’s tired of reading about young heroes on whose shoulders rest the fate of the world!

The New Policeman’s hero may ultimately be saving time for all mankind, but his motives are refreshingly selfish and his problem so, so real. Finally, a quest we can all relate to, no matter how mundane and boring our lives are!

I really like this funny, inventive book with its lively, memorable characters, and interesting settings. I especially like JJ, who is a lovely combination of typical moody teen and generous, sensitive artist. Kate Thompson’s descriptions of him playing the fiddle are so vivid, I could almost hear the tunes and see the dancers jigging!

Thompson happens to have a MA in Irish traditional music and her knowledge and love for it has enriched the book and given it authenticity and heart. Each chapter ends with sheet music for an Irish ditty and I’m dying to know what these songs sound like.

According to the Tuatha de Danaan, all Irish tunes come from them and if you think you’ve made one up, you’re actually just playing “fairy” music that you’ve subconsciously absorbed when it “leaked” from their world. Now, that’s what I call truly magical!

P.S Kate Thompson's The New Policeman won 2005's Whitbread children's novel award.

Getting a Grip on Reality

From StarMag, 29th January, 2006

Review by DAPHNE LEE

Getting a grip on reality

ITHAKA

By Adele Geras

Publisher: David Fickling Books, 416 pages

(ISBN: 0-38560-391-6)

WHAT do the wives and children, and mothers and sisters of heroes do while these brave warriors are off slaying monsters and overthrowing villainous rulers? Storytellers tend to focus on the action and the excitement, while ignoring the lives of those who must sit and wait and wonder.

But years, even decades, might pass before the return of a wandering hero. In the meantime, it is unlikely that his loved ones are doing nothing except twiddling their thumbs. Believe it or not, life goes on no matter how much a man, even one as glorious as Odysseus, is missed!

Ithaka tells the tale of those left behind by Greek mythology’s most cunning conqueror when he goes to fight the Trojans: There is his wife, sad and lonely Penelope; his son, Telemachus, who craves the love and guidance only a father can offer; Antikleia, his mother who, unable to bear the grief of losing her son, ends her own life early in the novel.

Like Antikleia, many fear him dead, but Penelope has been told by the goddess Pallas Athene not to despair. Her husband’s life is literally in her hands, bound up with the threads she uses on her loom. So long as she continues to weave her tapestry, telling the story of his long journey home with her coloured wools, all will be well.

At the very centre of this tale is Klymene, the granddaughter of Odysseus’ old nurse. She and her twin brother Ikarios are Telemachus’ playmates, but her feelings for the young prince are changing.

Love makes Klymene acutely aware of everything about her, and with maturity and her growing awareness, come the ability to see and recognise the gods and goddesses who walk the streets of ancient Greece, meddling with lives of man according to their whims and fancies: Fishy-breathed Poseidon promises calamity for the royal household, ostensibly in revenge for Odysseus’ treatment of his son, the cyclops Polyphemus; Artemis rewards Odysseus’ faithful hunting dog, Argos, by keeping him alive despite extreme age and injury; and Aphrodite causes Penelope’s loneliness to escalate into lust for a boyhood friend of Odysseus’.

Yes, there’s never a dull moment in Ithaka. Throw a band of horny and violent oafs into the mix and you have a soap opera ready to be screened at prime time on HBO! Most of the action is seen through Klymene’s innocent eyes and so life in Ithaka is only as wonderful, fearful or tedious at it may seem to an awkward, impatient and moody, yet courageous and compassionate teenager who is just getting to grips with the world around her.

Then there are the other adolescent characters: petulant Telemachus; love-lorn Ikarios; flirty, back-stabbing Melantho; and sensitive, sweet Mydon. Really, Ithaka could be subtitled The OC, B.C! This isn’t as bad as it may sound (to some): Ithaka is, after all, a young adult novel. So the story is rightfully presented from an adolescent point of view and Klymene and company’s very natural, hormonally-driven hopes, fears and preoccupations give it a touch of realism, making it relevant and interesting to a young audience, even one that may not be attracted to tales inspired by mythology.

Interestingly, Geras makes the reader care so much about the people whom Odysseus has left behind that, when he finally appears in the book, you really couldn’t care less. It’s the others whom you are anxious for and curious about and it’s Klymene whom you wish the best for.

Ithaka is her story. And, while Penelope and her husband claim their “happily ever after” at the end of the book, the young handmaid is left on the verge of womanhood, facing the endless possibilities life has to offer. If only Geras would give us a more of this brave, bright, loving girl. If anyone deserves an epic of her own, it’s Klymene