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.

Short on Plot, Good for Snorts

From StarMag

Review by DAPHNE LEE

THE SILLY SIDE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES

By Philip Ardagh

Publisher: Faber and Faber, 64 pages

(ISBN: 978-0571227587)

THE NOT-SO-VERY-NICE GOINGS ON AT VICTORIA LODGE

By Philip Ardagh

Publisher: Faber and Faber, 64 pages

(ISBN: 978-0571223572)

Philip Ardagh has produced two books that I recommend to anyone who occasionally enjoys being rather silly and frivolous. Both are filled with pictures irreverently captioned by Ardagh and both made me snort, quite piggishly, with mirth. I came across The Silly Side of Sherlock Holmes first, although it was the second to be published. This volume comprises the original Sherlock Holmes illustrations from The Strand Magazine.

Ardagh has strung these pictures together to make a story, of sorts. There’s no real plot and no point (except to make the reader giggle). Holmes is made out to be quite mad and his relationship with Watson is presented in a rather dubious light. It’s all in the captions, but it also helps if you have a bit of sick imagination.

The other book, which I demanded from the publisher after reading Silly Side, is The Not-So-Very-Nice Goings On at Victoria Lodge. Here the illustrations are from The Girl’s Own Paper, chosen and arranged to tell a ridiculous, but nevertheless intriguing murder mystery.

I’d never really noticed how grim the people in Girl’s Own Paper illustrations look until I read Victoria Lodge. Everyone looks grave or disapproving, insulted or just plain miserable.

This makes the pictures ideal for the sort of silly nonsense Ardagh creates.

I’ve read both books several times and laughed a great deal each time. You can race through both in less than half-an-hour. So, no, you shouldn’t pack them to read on a long flight. Just have them ready for those times when you are in dire need of a laugh.

Silly Side and Victoria Lodge may also inspire you to hereafter caption every picture you see.

Magazines and the dailies will be full of your scribbles and your friends will be in hysterics over the most boring and mundane news photographs, thanks to your witty captions.

Or ... you may be told not to quit your day job. Well, if that’s the case, another peek into these books will cheer you right up!

From

A Love Story

From StarMag

Review by DAPHNE LEE

THE MIRACULOUS JOURNEY OF EDWARD TULANE

By Kate DiCamillo

Illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline

Publisher: Candlewick Press, 208 pages

(ISBN: 978-0763625894)

EDWARD Tulane is a china rabbit, finely dressed, trimmed with real fur. He has jointed limbs, leather shoes and a gold pocket watch. He doesn’t sound very cuddly, but he is an exquisite object, specially made for a little girl named Abilene.

Abilene adores Edward and Edward ... well, Edward thinks he is “an exceptional specimen”. The rabbit never ceases to “be amazed by his own fineness” and takes Abilene’s love totally for granted. Why wouldn’t she love such a beautiful toy?

His feelings are unusual. Toys in books are normally totally devoted to the children they belong to, but Edward is content to be loved and admired. When he is thrown overboard a ship and separated from Abilene, his first thought is, “Is my hat still on my head?”

I felt Abilene’s anguish at losing Edward but there was no pity for the toy. I realised, as I read the book, that I didn’t really care very much for Edward’s fate, but instead became involved in and concerned about the humans around him. In a way this was a relief.

Stories of lost, forgotten and abandoned toys usually affect me terribly. I would be absolutely horrified if it were proven that dolls, teddy bears and other playthings felt miserable if they were thrown away or neglected. I don’t think my conscience could cope!

As it is, I weep copiously whenever I watch that scene in Toy Story 2 when the doll Jessie sings about the little girl who loved her then forgot her. And as much as I loved Russell Hoban’s The Mouse and His Child when I first read it more than 15 years ago, I have put off rereading it because the young clockwork mouse who longs for a family just breaks my heart.

And so I approached The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane with trepidation. I actually read the last chapter first: Ahhh ... a happy ending.

However, I knew from the cover-blurb that things would get much worse before they started getting better. Still, I wasn’t prepared for just how miserable the book would make me.

It was not Edward Tulane’s misfortunes that upset me most. As the story progresses, the proud rabbit learns to open his heart and care for the humans around him, but each time he is separated from someone he has grown attached to, it was their loss I felt more than his.

Normally, toys in fiction are so terribly pathetic because the authors depict them as though they are living, breathing flesh and blood creatures.

It is their fate to be at the mercy of humans, much the same way that a helpless infant is at the mercy of his parents or carers.

Illustrations add to the pathos of a toy’s suffering as it is often given human facial expressions and body language.

Edward Tulane’s countenance, however, is unchanging. He stares ahead, blankly, out of eyes painted a brilliant blue. Unlike many of his fellow fictional toys he cannot move on his own accord. The illustrations show him in many situations, but whether he is decked out in lovely silk outfit or in grubby rags, his eye are always empty, his body either limp or posed by human hands.

But the people whose lives Edward becomes a part of are unforgettable and their stories compelling and powerful.

Because the reader is privy only to what Edward sees and hears, there is much about these lives that is implied and left to speculation, but the characters are so fully realised that it there is always the desire to know more. Edward’s fairytale ending offers satisfaction and closure only to a very limited degree.

There are still several lives that continue to haunt me, even after more than a month since I completed the

book.

Although Edward goes through a lot of hardship, things happen to him, he moves on and, eventually, finds love and happiness. Even his bleakest moments in the book cannot compare with the heartbreak that is faced by some of the other characters.

The fates of the siblings Bryce and Sarah Ruth, for example, are unspeakable and in this instance, I wished for a miracle for them and Edward Tulane be damned.

It was the illustrations that initially drew me to this book. They are by Bagram Ibatoulline and are beautiful, mysterious and, in some cases, disturbing. The picture on the cover is intriguing and rather bizarre.

The image of a little rabbit, walking upright towards the lighted doorway of a large house provokes many questions. Is the rabbit Edward Tulane? Does this scene depict the start of his miraculous journey or the end? Does the door lead to a good or bad place? What lies behind it?

Edward looks very small and vulnerable. Interestingly, although you can’t see his face, this picture shows him at his most expressive and sympathetic. This is probably because it is the only time you see him “moving” on his own.

There is purpose and courage in his carriage and so, despite his insignificant stature (or perhaps all

the more because of it), you cannot

help but feel admiration for the little rabbit.

Ibatoulline’s richly tinted and detailed pictures work very well with DiCamillo’s simple writing.

He is faithful to the text and, apart from on the cover, illustrates quite literally what DiCamillo describes.

The result is a moving and realistic portrayal of life as something filled equally with beauty and horror, joy and sorrow, tragedies and miracles.

All things considered, a toy that showed more emotion than Edward does would probably have made this story too mawkish for comfort.

But a toy that showed more emotion would also have seemed, to me, more deserving of the happy ending Edward gets.