The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Last night my family and I went to see The Hobbit. It was a fairly big deal – we’ve not been to the cinema together since Prince Caspian (sensing a theme?). I love the humour of The Hobbit’s narration and knew the film would raise some laughs but was intrigued to see how they‘d stretch the story out over 3 full length films. 

And that was the sticking point; I couldn’t shake off the sense of the story having been over-stretched. I tried to sit back and enjoy it- but I couldn’t ignore the fact that it took over half an hour for Bilbo to leave his hole. As enjoyable as the dwarf songs and slapstick humour was, it ruined any chance of Bilbo’s exit feeling rushed. His panic is integral to the story, and without it the plot lost momentum and purpose. 

The action scenes were drawn out and shot so quickly as to mostly be a blur. I’m pretty certain my Dad dozed off for the majority of the fighting scenes without missing much of the plot. As he pointed out, with the exception of the tree/wolves scene, there’s very little character development that takes place during the high-adrenaline scenes. 

It felt like the story was being moulded into a cookie-cut adaptation in order to appeal to an imagined, short attention-spanned audience. Peter Jackson doesn’t pull it off because the fighting scenes are so frequent and drawn out that they loss their tension. It’s blinding clear that all the characters will pull through. I can't help thinking that newcomers to the story will lose interest and Tolkien fans will only notice the inconsistencies. 

I won’t pretend I'll avoid the next two films, but I’m not convinced they’ll be worth the admission cost. It’s ironic that a film about greed has been ruined by an attempt to prioritise revenue over quality. Yes, The Hobbit is a jam-packed book to adapt. But dragging it out over 3 films has meant a lack of direction, tension and purpose. Not to mention losing that satisfying sense of a story well told. This hobbit is unimpressed.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The Night Circus arrives without warning. Yesterday there was a bare field, today there is a circus. Nobody knows where it came from or how it arrived. Everything about it is a mystery, even to the performers. Opening only at dusk, the Night Circus attracts droves of customers like moths to a flame.

To those watching, the performers seem to be perfectly in control. They perform their acts with ease and charm their audiences. But beneath the polished acts lie dark secrets. Chosen as the venue for a dark challenge between two young magicians, the fate of the circus is tied to their fate.

Demonstrating their skill, each player begins to to make intricate additions to the circus. As the connection between them strengthens, the pressure of the duel begins to take its toll on the circus. Suspended in this unearthly game, the circus members begin to lose touch with reality. When will the challenge end? Who will be declared winner, and what will this mean for the circus?

This is such a delight to read. The imagery used jumps right out of the page, until you almost feel like running off to the circus yourself. Erin Morgnestern conveys such a physical impression of the circus that despite the supernatural events the circus seems touchable, real. Her knack for using myriad details and weaving these together continuously throughout the book must have taken an impressive amount of planning.

The best thing about the novel was the way in which the circus kept growing, kept being discovered. Each new tent is described with such originality and freshness. Here's one of my favourites, The Cloud Maze:

'The tower itself is a series of platforms swooping in odd, diaphanous shapes, quite similar to clouds. They are layered, like a cake. From what Bailey can see, the space between layers varies from enough to walk straight through to barely enough to crawl. Here and there parts of it almost float away from the central tower, drifting off into space.

And everywhere, there are people climbing. Hanging on edges, walking through paths, climbing higher or lower. Some platforms move with the weight; other seem strong and sturdy. The whole of it moves constantly, a light movement like breathing.'

Part of the reason Erin Morgnestern is able to conjure up the circus so vividly is that we view it through so many different eyes. We're pulled along by the playful twins Poppet and Wiget, guided by their awestruck new-found friend Bailey, and educated by the detail-loving, clockmaker Friedrick Thiessen. All these experiences combine until the circus becomes the most concrete and known character of the book.

This concentration on the setting and the episodic structure of the chapters, which switch between scenes and time periods, meant that I couldn't quite get a hold on any of the main characters. Some disappear for pages and pages, only to surprise me with how little I missed them on their return. But maybe that's not a bad thing. There is so much else to concentrate on in this book, so many senses being evoked that I was left with only scant attention to pay the characters.

What was unmissable was the tension between the two dueling magicians. Erin Morgnestern builds up the chemistry between these two until it's almost unbearable. I loved it, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

This is a fantastic, inspiring read that'll worm its way into your head.

Me Before You by JoJo Moyes

 Life affirming isn't a phrase you'd expect to describe a novel about a quadriplegic fighting for his right to die, but it fits in this case. Me Before You is a dangerously compelling account of the relationship between a paralysed former city slicker and his inexperienced but resolutely chirpy carer.

Lou Clark never set out to become a carer. In fact, most of what's happened to her over the last few years has been unplanned. Her sister is the one with the big plans for university and beyond, Lou just...drifts. So when her priced job at the lively Buttered Bun tea shop comes to a sudden halt Lou's options are scarce. Threatened with losing her unemployment benefit, Lou applies for the 6 month care position in a local wealthy private home. 

Embittered by his constant discomfort, pain and poor quality of life, Will Traynor is initially irritated by Lou's naivety and her eager attempts to please. Within a matter of weeks however, they begin to warm to one another and develop an engaging and authentic dialogue. 

'It's not the bloody carrots that upset me. It's having them sneaked into my food by a madwoman who addresses the cutlery as Mr and Mrs Fork.'

'It was a joke. Look, let me take the carrots and-'

He turned away from me. 'I don't want anything else. Just do me a cup of tea.' He called out to me as I left the room, 'And don't try and sneak a bloody courgette into it.'

Nathan walked in as I was finishing the dishes. 'He's in a good mood,' he said, as I handed him a mug.

'Is he?' I was eating my sandwiches in the kitchen. It was bitterly cold outside, and somehow the house hadn't felt quite as unfriendly lately.

'He says you're trying to poison him. But he said it - you know - in a good way.'

I felt weirdly pleased by this information.

The interaction between the two main characters is the bloodline of this story. It's what kept me reading until 3am one night. JoJo Moyles has created two such bright, lifelike characters that they seem to exist outside of the page. Even after I'd finished the book, I could easily still conjure them up. I started imagining different scenes without intending to, so strongly are their personalities and characteristics painted. This is a book which is very hard to shake off.

It wasn't often laugh-out-loud funny, but there are many light moments and the constant sparring between Lou and Will made for a humourous read. There's something of classical Hollywood in the way that their insults bounce off each other and bring them closer together (I'm trying so hard to avoid the word banter here). There were other characters, some more worthy of note than others (Lou's tumultuous, loving family spring to mind) - but to be honest they paled in comparison to the vividness of Lou and Will.

The concentration on their relationship keeps Will's paralysis from being the be-all-and-end-all of the novel. It's an issue which is still in focus, but it's weaved naturally into the comings and going of their everyday lives. Plus, Will is such a strong character that it's impossible to define him by his condition.

There's a lot of sadness in this book, but it's not the instant tear jerker that the synopsis might suggest. The novel has a lot more depth to it than that. If I had any criticism it would probably be that it's too easy to read, and that the plot was so compelling that I ended up rushing hastily towards the end instead of savouring it. Enjoyable, heartwarming and authentic. 

Blood Red Road by Moira Young

Beside a dried up lake in a futuristic, dusty world live a family of four. A bitter father, withdrawn since the loss of his wife, two grown twins, Saba and Lugh, and the lively nine year old Emmi scrape out an existence. With their father still immersed in grief, losing his head in the distant stars, Saba and Lugh are forced to battle the desert conditions to keep the family alive.

In their eighteen year, the restless Lugh begins to dream of leaving the dead-end farm. When their father is shot dead trying to stop a mysterious gang from capturing Lugh, Saba vows to track them and rescue her twin brother at all costs. Accustomed to following Lugh like a shadow and distrustful of others, Saba is determined to find him alone. Despite her lack of social graces, Saba's knack for picking up friends means that she unwittingly becomes the leader of a rebellion.

For a petulant king rules this world with a vice-like grip. Previously unchallenged, he crushes resistance with a steady supply of a sedative-like drug and the blood-thirsty spectacle of cage fighting. Fixated with the need to find her brother, Saba couldn't care less about the King. That is, until he gets in the way of her search. And though he might not know it yet, Saba is not the type of woman he should get in the way of.

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I'm sure it's not just being in the U.S this week that's making me draw comparisons between this YA action-packed novel and the Western genre. The dry, arid setting, horses, the theme of leaving a homestead, duels with 'shooters' and puffed-up gang-like leaders with hired lackeys. It's a quality which differentiates the book from the ever-present 'Hunger Games', which it's often compared to. Like many apocalyptic stories, the futuristic setting resembles more closely an older world to that we live in. The lack of modern convenience and communication in Saba's world has made her grow self-sufficient and tough-both qualities popular to young adult fiction. The author's also created a landscape which lends itself really well to an old-fashioned adventure, with hugh rocks, sandstorms, mountains and flash floods.

Saba is an opinionated protagonist with a big personality and a strong will. The characters and events she's thrown amongst during the course of this tale force her to question her opinions and actions, but the author doesn't spend a great chuck of prose on these revelations. Instead the change in Saba is shown by the way she responds to the various challenges she's faced with. Without the stalwart support of her twin brother, she ends up initiating new friendships, slowly opening herself up to the idea of relying on others. So there's a fair bit of character development going on here and Lugh's absence in the story is central to this. Whilst I can see the motivation for this, I couldn't help thinking that story could have been richer and fuller if it had also been told from Lugh's point of view.

My only other bug-bear was the style of writing. The lack of punctuation left me confused as to who was speaking and I was baffled by Saba's intermittent italicsised monologues. The kooky spelling and childish grammar means that Saba's voice is distinct and strong, but it felt a little twee at times.

That being said, the prominence of this style faded as I got pulled deeper into the story, and the self-conscious poetic element of the first few chapters was replaced by drawn-out action and suspense-filled chapter endings. I was also captivated by the sexual underpinings of Saba's interactions with a wandering rebel named Jack and the dark, brooding guard to the king, DeMalo. Moira Young recreates perfectly the insecurity, excitement and fear involved in an adolescent crush. It's fairly clear from the book's end that Young has written this with a sequel (if not a trilogy) in mind. Whilst this means that the ending can't truly be described as satisfying, I can comfort myself with the fact that Saba's likely to turn up again soon.

Video review: After My Own Heart by Sophia Blackwell

Crewel by Gennifer Albin

Born into a perfectly ordered world, 16-year-old Adelice has a rare and powerful gift. She can physically weave the fabric of life to control space, time and matter. Having been brought up to respect the mysterious Spinsters that wield this power, you'd expect her to be ecstatic when she finds she can join their ranks. Instead, her first experience reeks of frustration.

Aged eight, Adelice's distress at finding an abandoned bird's nest unearths her ability: 

'As I watched, the golden strands of light flickered slightly, and I realised they were slowly moving forwards, away from the moment in front of me. They weren't simply fibres in Arras's tapestry-they were lines of time. Tentatively, I reached for one of the golden fibres. Encouraged by its silky texture, I took it and yanked it hard, trying to force the time bands back to a moment when the mama bird was guarding her precious babies. But the strands resisted. No matter what I did, they kept on creeping forward. There was no going back.' 

 It's a hard lesson: controlling the world around her doesn't guarantee the safety of those she loves.

Adelice's talent is valuable and those in power will stop at nothing to control her. Once they have her there's no going back. Having been whisked away from her family, Adelice is faced with a terrible choice: work for those that tore them apart or be killed. As her training continues she realises the extent of the Spinster's control over the public. But what exactly does the powerful Guild need Adelice for? And how much leverage does this afford her? Can it keep her own family safe, or is it too late for that?

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 I loved Gennifer Albin's concept of the world constantly changing and being woven around us. The idea of the delicate balance of life being visible and tangible really appealed to me. It's refreshing to picture a completely new type of perception and reminded me of how limited our human sight is in terms of the colour spectrum. This also led to some touching imagery of individual lives being intertwined and woven together. 

Like many novels featuring totalitarian societies Crewel raises the age-old question: should you sacrifice free will for the security of crime-free authoritarianism? Albin's twist here lies in the originality of how that security is created and physically maintained. I also liked Adelice's determination and ability to appear cocky in the face of danger. She's sharp witted and seems to have an enviable knack for banter especially with her nemesis, Guild Ambassador Cormac Patton:

'But they know more than they let on,' I press. His cologne's heavy musk is making my head swim, and I can't hold back the thoughts I've locked in since my arrival.

'They do,' he admits, 'but I have so much more power. It's easier to share little secrets when you're in charge.'

'And you are?' I ask him pointedly. 'Then why tell me? You have no more reason to trust me than they do.'

'No, I don't,' he says, 'but unlike them, I can have you killed.'

'And I thought we were finally becoming friends.' 

Cormac laughs a deep, barking cackle. 'You are delightful. I do hope I don't have to kill you.'

'Finally, something we can agree on'.

Despite these perks, I found I didn't quite root for Adelice the way I have for other YA heroines like Katniss and Hannah Baker. At times she came across as a little too superficial and flirty, without Katniss' steadfast fire and hatred of the enemy. Whilst it could be argued that this makes Adelice a more realistic teenager, I would have liked to have felt that her resistance to The Guild was fueled by universal humanitarian concern rather than self-interest. This alienation was exacerbated by the fact that she struggled to strike up friendships with the other Spinster recruits. Adelice isn't short of potential boyfriends, but she sure could a have done with a few more friends.

Having said that, I couldn't help but respect Adelice's courage, survivor instinct and wit. Gennifer Albin has woven a quirky, imaginative plot throughout this novel and I'll eagerly be looking out for the sequel.  

Crewel is due to be published in the UK by Faber and Faber in October 2012

Fever Crumb by Philip Reeve‏

Fever Crumb has been born into a futuristic world still reeling from the overthrow of the ruling Scrivens (or 'homo superior' as they like to term themselves).

This is London; but not as you know it. Commuters carry Oyster shells, instead of cards, and travel by wind tram or sudan chair. What we call modern society was destroyed by a dark period referred to as the ‘downsizing’; hence most of outer London consists of empty buildings and overgrown, useless roads. Technological advances such as flight and electricity have been lost and anyone with an interest in science is considered odd. The violence of Scriven rule is still fresh in the minds of Londoners and the city is buzzing with distrust and mutiny.

A small corner of reason remains in an abandoned monument. In a head constructed to represent the former Scriven king Auric Godshank, a band of engineers reside. Protected from the mayhem of the city they quietly beaver away at their experiments, rejecting any form of emotion as a distraction. An anomaly in a society of men, Fever Crumb was found abandoned as a baby and subsequently raised by a kind engineer named Dr Crumb.

Having been brought up in a reasonable manner, the young Fever Crumb reacts calmly when she is required to leave the engineers to assist the kooky archaeologist Kit Solvent. Solvent's rag-tag children and quirky ways baffle Fever Crumb. But that's nothing compared to the bizarre illusions Solvent's work seems to evoke in her. She's left frightened by her reaction to a visit to Godshank's former residence:

"Try the door,' said Kit, and held his lantern up to light the lock.

Weird feelings of déjà visité flooded through Fever. Memories of yesterday mingled with memories of other yesterdays which could not possibly be her own. Pain was beating again at the base of her skull. She began to wonder if she were still inside her dream. If she climbed the stairs again and went outside would there be lights in the unbroken windows of Nonesuch House?"

The city grows more and more restless as Fever begins to question her own sanity. Soon her piercing odd eyes and unusual manner evoke aggressive suspicion from Londoners. 'What are you?' is the constant refrain that Fever herself cannot answer. Why does she appear to have memories that she doesn't own? What is Kit Solvent hiding from her? And can he keep her safe from the unruly and angry crowds?

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This was my first Philip Reeve read, but I’m certain it won’t be my last. I really admire his ability to create such quirky, intriguing scenarios and characters. He plays with your familiarity of London with places names such as ‘Hampster Heath’, ‘B@ersea’, and ‘Eefrow’ and hints at religious legends involving the worship of prophets such as ‘some old-world prophet, ‘Hari, Hari! Hari Potter!’Such details make up part of the intricate world that Reeve has created. Reeve shows a delightful interest in building the world of this Mortal Engines series, layer by realistic layer. Without having to take in much detail, as the novel plays out you naturally absorb a sense of the workings of the setting.

Fever Crumb, Dr Crumb and Kit Solent are all fresh, likeable and fleshy characters with believable quirks and motivations. The dialogue moves the plot along and also provides countless moments of humour. I especially loved how the pantomime-like villain Ted Swiney was drawn:

"Ted Swiney suddenly reached across the bar and lifted him up by his coat collar. His amiable act had ended. He growled softly into Charley’s ear. ‘Anything the old cloot finds, I want to hear about it. You understand?’

Charley nodded eagerly, and Ted dumped him on the floor, grinning round at his customers to show he’d just been having a bit of harmless fun with the boy. His smiling cheeks were red and round as two wax apples. He leaned over the bar to straighten Charley’s coat and pat his hair flat. ‘Now hop along. Don’t keep Master Creech waiting."

Clearly a lover of language, Reeve has created for characters such as ted Swiney a winsome fusion between cockney and 21st century text-speak. In short, this is a multifaceted, fast-paced, charming novel that has plenty to tempt older readers, young adults and the young-at-heart.

The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge

13-year-old Maria Merryweather has an uncanny knack for making friends. Almost everyone she meets in this old-fashioned tale falls for her frank and cheerful nature and boundless energy. Uprooted from her luxurious London home after her father's death, Maria, her governess and their pampered pooch are forced to seek refuge with her strange, distant relative Sir Benjamin Merryweather on the windbeaten coast of the West Country. Despite her faults (she's headstrong, argumentative and vain), Maria's charm soon sees her surrounded by a protective circle of adult and animal guardians. It's well she is, as the magical residence of Moonacre is not as idyllic as it first appears.

Maria soon begins to unweave the secrets of Sir Benjamin Merryweather's picturesque residence. But the facts of the past still evade her. How did her childhood friend Robin come to be here? Who was the mysterious woman that last slept in her room and rode her horse? Who are the dark men that stalk the nearby wood and deny the village access to the sea?

Published in 1946 and set in 1842, The Little White Horse merges legend, magic and adventure with old-fashioned morals and lashing of afternoon tea. The folklore influence and the inclusion of eccentric characters such as the ferocious chef Marmaduke and his all knowing, literate cat Zachariah, add to the offbeat feel of the book. Despite this originality, Elizabeth Goudge‏'s description of the landscape, the village and Maria's interactions with her beloved friends come across as a trifle twee. The benevolent Old Parson springs to mind, instated in his picture-perfect cottage, tending lovingly to his flock. Helpfully, after each Sunday service the Vicar stands at the door of the church ready to reveal and reprimand each villager's sins. It's hard to tell how a 1940's child would read this but it struck me as overtly sanctimonious and judgmental.

 Despite Maria's strong influence over the residents of Moonacre, she's often scolded for not acting as submissive as her gender dictates. It's incredibly frustrating to read! Seen through a modern day lens, Maria's childish brand of feminism grates - especially as she's considered old enough to marry. The implication seems to be that girls, women and brides should be suspended in a state of ignorant innocence. The Old Parson vehemently enforces this view whilst holding Maria in a 'grip of steel'. He advises, 'excessive female curiosity is not to be commended either. Nip it in the bud, my dear, while there is time.' Whilst it could be argued that Elizabeth Goudge‏ is accurately representing 1800 opinions, this view of femininity is repeated often enough as to be deliberate.

That all being said, Maria is ultimately a decisive, outgoing character. Her natural curiosity, sense of humour and passionate temper keep her from coming across as sanctimonious. In The Little White Horse Elizabeth Goudge has created a beguiling set of characters, and set them in a charming, idyllic English countryside with an intriguing and magical plot.

Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge

'Words were dangerous when loosed. They were more powerful than cannon and more unpredictable than storms. They could turn men's heads inside out and warp their destinies. They could pick up kingdoms and shake them until they rattled. And this was a good thing, a wonderful thing...'

Frances Hardinge's debut novel draws us into a dark, eighteenth century inspired society rife with highwaymen, rival royals, thieves, and one very aggressive goose. Amongst all this pandemonium lies a plucky young girl named Mosca Mye. Unlike the majority of her female peers, Mosca was taught to read by her father before he died. Now 12 years old and fiercely independent, Mosca is determined to leave her callous Aunt and Uncle and the damp, claustrophobic village in which they live. Having been mesmerised by the verbal dexterity of a travelling storyteller and conman named Eponymous Clent, Mosca rescues Clent from the clutches of the local magistrate and together they flee the village.

It's the beginning of an unlikely partnership, based more on the desire to keep alive than out of loyalty. Mosca's decision to hedge her bets with Clent, despite being aware of his slippery tongue and nature, shows her willingness to disregard social expectations in the pursuit of knowledge. Her love and respect for books is matched only by her affinity to Saracen, the goose that aided her escape from the village. Mosca senses the force of words and knowledge, and she thirsts after the power and freedom that they offer. What Mosca doesn't anticipate is the far-reaching consequences of her search. Together, Mosca and Clent tumble through a madcap series of events, eventually coming to the attention of the very highest, powerful members of their society. 

The plot winds unexpectedly, as does Mosca's loyalty and trust of those she meets. As a reader, this kept me constantly on my toes. Hardinge refuses to install any sort of absolutes in the novel, other than that of the desirability of free speech and education. This makes Fly By Night a refreshing intelligent, multifaceted young adult novel. There's a fair bit of humour to be found in her writing too, much of which is caused by her penchant for kooky names. She pokes fun at religious rites with her description of devout offerings: 

'They were passing a cluster of shrines. As she watched, a troop of grateful citizens trooped past the shrines, dropping different thanksgiving offerings before each icon. A biscuit for Goodman Blackwhistle. A mackerel for Goodman Sussuratch. A shiny coin for Goodman Greyglory.' 

Far from just religious-bashing however, Hardinge also intelligently dissects power, greed and the desire to crush dissent in politics, trade unions, and the royalty. This is a true gem of a book. Read it!

Moonfleet: A classic tale of smuggling, based on the novel by J.M Falkner (Usborne Young Readers series)

This dark tale explores the 18th century world of Britain's seaside smugglers. Adapted to form a chapter book for young readers, the book is illustrated with charming pencil sketches by Alan Marks. I don't make a habit of reading chapter books as they fall into that middle ground between easy-to-read picture books and all-too-easy-to-love young adult fiction. But something about the whimsical title and the muted style of this cover caught my eye.

The story features the young John Trenchard and describes his foray into the secret world of smuggling. Whilst not naturally crooked, circumstances contrive to lead John into a life of crime and he is soon forced to take to sea to avoid capture.

I can remember as a child being spellbound by the incredible tales set around the sea, like the famous five's smuggling adventure and that Swallows and Amazons where the children sailed out to sea by mistake. It was as if there was something about the incessant pull of the sea that attracted adventure. For a landlocked child, the sea will always represent freedom and the danger it presents only increases its appeal.

Rob Lloyd Jones has made Moonfleet accessible without attempting to update the tale. By staying true to the original the book retains an air of archaic charm, gently drawing the reader in to that period. There's enough intrigue, crime and danger to spark the interest of even reluctant young readers, although the strong moral running through the tale could offset this. Against the strong plot, the young narrator fades away somewhat, probably due to his indistinct personality and unquestioning acceptance of the bizarre situations he finds himself in. To be fair, the age of the intended audience does explain the simplification of John's character but even so, his actions and thoughts sometimes came across as wooden and illogical. This is nothing compared to the one-dimensional representation of his love interest, the ever-patient and forgiving Grace, who is barely able to speak for herself at all.

Although this tale does have charm, I thought the narrative style could have been much more engaging and the dialogue more natural. However, the illustration style felt refreshing - perhaps because I'm new to the age range - but I felt that the sketches made for intriguing character representations with hazy, hard-to-read expressions.  I'm sure the smuggling theme would hold appeal for young readers and there are twists and turns enough keep competent readers interested.

StoryCloud: The Hoopoe Bird by Emma King and Ross Collins

Illustration by Ross Collins

 Browsing through the Discover Children's Centre website tonight I happened upon the StoryCloud project, an online interactive library created especially for the London Festival 2012.

Here's the site's description: 

StoryCloud is an online story library featuring twelve brand new exclusive stories from award winning and up-and-coming authors and children. Each story is accompanied by a brilliant illustration. A new story will be released each Monday of the Cultural Olympiad until 3 September. The ninth story is now live, The Hoopoe Bird by Emma King and illustrated by Ross Collins.

The Hoopoe Bird is a simple little tale about a cruel magician and an exotic bird that he holds captive. Caught by the magician after a bold rescue mission during which some half-starved dolls are set free, the Hoopoe is chosen to star in the magician's performance show. But the Hoopoe bird has other ideas, and refuses to sing. What follows is a battle of wills between the man and bird.

It's a short and to-the-point tale with few major twist or turns and a strong overall moral. But what really sets this story about is its method of telling.

The story comes to life in the mouths of the fantastic child narrators on the available audio track. They bring warmth and depth to the tale with their tone and timing, and humour through the emphasis on words like 'dark' in the opening line, 'there was once a evil magician who did dark magic.' Whilst the style and tone of their delivery mimics traditional storytelling, the simplicity of the story kept the experience fresh.

I say they because I found it difficult to tell how many different voices I was hearing. There's something automated about the audio production that echoes the text-to-speech Kindle voice, and it certainly sounds like the recording has been heavily edited.

But there was still something about the actual process of being read to that really captivated me. It reminded me of Dr Jane Davis' essay 'The Reading Revolution' in the Stop What You're Going and Read This Vintage collection, where she describes The Reader Organisation's Get Into Reading programme as a 'read-aloud' group. In this essay, Davis describes how magical the process of reading literature aloud can be. She recalls being unexpectedly handed an emotive poem to read in a meeting, 'John had handed me some sad powerful magic, and I'd set it off by reading it aloud, a sort of spell.' It's a beautiful way of pointing out what we lose when we stop being read to as children. 

The Get Into Reading read-aloud groups are primarily focused on bringing the restorative aspect of communal reading to children, the elderly, youth groups, office workers, the mentally ill and many more. (You can find out more here: http://thereader.org.uk/get-into-reading/) 

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

'There's just no such thing as silence. Not here, not nowhere. Not when your asleep, not when yer by yerself,  never. 

I am Todd Hewitt, I think to myself with my eyes closed. I am twelve years and twelve months old. I live in Prentisstown on New World. I will be a man in one month's time exactly.'

Tired of their broken and warring planet, a band of religious settlers travel through space in search of a simple life. Despite their best intentions, things don't exactly get off to a great start when they arrive. Because this new planet has the uncomfortable effect of making your thoughts audible and this doesn't exactly make for harmonious living. 

Todd is born into this New World in a cruel dead-end town full of bitter and broken men thinking bitter and broken thoughts. The women and girls of the town were killed off by the same virus that revealed their thoughts and the only bright spots in Todd's life are his two guardians Ben and Cillian and his daft dog Manchee. On a relatively quiet farm outside the town, the family of three scrape out a bearable living until the day that Todd discovers a mysterious patch of silence. Suddenly, everything changes. The town's sinister elders come for him with rifles and Todd has no choice but to flee. But why won't Ben and Cillian tell him where he needs to go? And how come they already had a bag packed for his departure? What does the silence mean?

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Warning: this book becomes incredibly hard to put down just after the mid-way point. It's a beast of a YA novel, almost 500 pages, and the pace initially took me some getting used to, especially with the cyclical nature of Manchee and Todd's speech. Patrick Ness has positioned Todd's internal dialogue as the narrative voice, and his efforts to represent natural thought processes makes for some repetition and slow going at first. But Ness is also incredibly skilled at creating separate distinct voices which he then weaves into the narrative. And Todd's thoughts naturally quicken alongside fast paced action, in a way that brings the reader right into the thick of the story. The sights and sounds he experiences are vividly described in what feels like real-time, and as the pace built I was truly sucked into the story.

I loved how immersed I became in this book, largely down to the unpredictable action. At one point I was literally repeating 'no!' out loud and committed the sin of skipping ahead pages to make sure I wasn't reading a dream sequence.

Ness clearly has a love of delving into the psyche of dark and creepy characters and some of the most chilling parts of the novel feature Todd attempting to do the same. But at the same time, he has also created other characters that manage to be both likable and multi-dimensional. It's clear that even in the New World, nobody's perfect. I love the fact that there are no perfect heroes in this book as it feels like a much more realistic representation of human nature. In the end, it is hope and affection that sets the characters apart, rather than plain good morals.

So the plot is unpredictable, engaging and shocking enough to satisfy the most blood-thirsty of young readers. It's hard to tell whether the unusual narrative style would put hesitant readers off or engage them. I've been a fan of kooky typography since first reading Jonathan Safran Foer so perhaps I'm biased. But it's definitely well worth a read - I'll certainly be getting my mits on the sequel.

Under the influence

I've been thinking about mind-altering drugs a lot recently. The workings of the brain have always fascinated me and as I've gotten older I've started to think a lot more about how we use our brains. That statistic about only using 10% of your brain has always freaked the frack out of me. I guess I hate feeling like I might not be making the most of what I have. When you're still in full time education your brain is constantly receiving new information and making connections but once you leave I think it's much harder to keep intellectually stimulated, especially if your job doesn't challenge you enough.

I read an article in the New Scientist recently about creativity. Basically the premise was that original thought is linked to daydreaming. The author argued that people who have been wholly focused on an intricate task, during which their mind isn't free to wander, score much lower in creativity tests than others. In the study that backed this, all participates were initially asked to think up creative uses for a brick. After this, they were then spilt into two groups; one of which was given a mindless, repetitive task to do, whilst the other was doing something more complicated requiring full concentration. The interesting part of the findings was that the people who had been carrying out the mindless task and been able to daydream were then able to come up with far more uses for a brick than the other group, despite many of those individuals reporting that they hadn't consciously been thinking about the task. The article concluded that it's the process of daydreaming itself, and the way that the thoughts are left free to meander, that is vital to our creative ability, rather than the content of our thoughts.

If single-minded concentration hampers creativity, the author reasoned, caffeine must act against creativity because it causes most people to focus and concentrate. But does it really? I sometimes find it harder to concentrate on one particular task after having a strong coffee, especially if the task doesn't particularly interest me. My thought processes seem to speed up and dart around, meaning that I get often get distracted easier from the task in hand but am also more able to come up with fresh ideas. If I applied my own experience to this article's findings then I'd say that coffee aids my creative thought process. As a read-a-holic English graduate and a bit of a day dreamer I'd count myself as a fairly creative person. So does caffeine literally just give the brain an indeterminate energy boast like a scattergun effect or does it actually encourage creativity itself? And if it doesn't, surely there must be other chemicals that can? *mind suddenly wanders off into futuristic world where authors are tested for banned substances like modern day athletes*.
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A Very British Coup by Chris Mullin

I've just finished this book and it's left me wanting more. I think this was Chris Mullin's intention. He's created a warped snapshot of what the 1980's could have been. A lefter than left-back Labour government have been flung into office in a landslide victory. Downing Street nervously prepares to welcome an unorthodox crowd. Plans to destroy all American bases on British soil, do away with Nuclear weapons and enforce public control of finance and media are soon rolled into action.

As quick as the new Prime Minister, ideological ex-steel worker Harry Perkins, is to react to this shock win; the 'Establishment' are faster. The city-slickened wheels gather pace and pressure builds from all sides as the the mighty banking, civil service, media, religious and military worlds oppose the government's plans. Once the post-election celebrations die down it's clear that the British public have no control over the information forming their opinions, and they soon turn against Perkins.

First published in 1982 but set in 1989, A Very British Coup feels somewhat topical in light of the Levinson Inquiry, public mistrust of the banks and politicians, unemployment, social inequality and public sector strikes. *insert intelligent comment here on it being set in a future which is now in the past* Depending on your level of cynicism, it could be described as a fantasy or satire. Perhaps it's a mix of the two. Mullin documents Perkin's rise to power but the voting public themselves barely make an appearance. Barring the Cabinet and the trade leaders, you'd be hard pressed to find many Labour voters.  This reiterates the sense that real political power is concentrated into an impenetrable world where a privileged minority control an unsuspecting majority.

The novel weaves between political worlds, circling back less frequently to Perkin's office as his influence dwindles. A frustrated love affair, infidelity and a traitor in the Cabinet combine to threaten his party's ideological fervor. Ultimately I wanted more from this book. The problem is, I still can't decide if was the whole point.

My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece by Annabel Pitcher

Jamie's older sister Rose haunts the family from the mantelpiece in this hard-hitting children's novel. She lives there. She's spoken to, she's offered food and she even manages to buy her family gifts. But Rose is dead. In fact, she was killed in a terrorist attack 5 years previously and Jamie can barely remember her - let alone cry for her. In contrast, Jamie's parents' inability to let her go eventually tears the family apart. Mum walks out, Dad drinks to forget and Jamie and Rose's remaining twin Jasmine are left desperately trying to patch their lives back together.

My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece is an honest and unsentimental portrayal of an imperfect family struggling to come to terms with the death of a child. It's telling that this children's book feels more authentic than the majority of popular adult 'tragic lit' titles (or whatever Waterstones are labelling them as this year). Far from featuring stock, dependable adult characters, in Pitcher's world grief has made children out of the adults and adults of the children.

Jamie is an unselfconscious narrator and he paints a brutally clear picture of the children's neglected state. The faith that he relentlessly places in his mother could distress some adult readers. But the success of this book suggests that children respond well to such a honest representation of a dysfunctional family. And why shouldn't they? Children are on the whole much more honest than adults. And their response to death is usually way more pragmatic than an adult's. In short, Jamie's parents could stand to learn a lot from him.

The book has its sweet moments as Jamie interacts with his sister and his only friend Sunya, (a friendship that Jamie's Dad would definitely NOT approve of). It's clear early on that his chance for happiness rests on these two young pairs of shoulders. I was a little disappointed that the author has made both of the only 2 nurturing/supportive figures in the novel female. I suppose it just felt predictable, especially as the school bully was male, for the parenting void in his live to be filled by two females.

Also the romantic aspect of Jamie and Sunya's relationship didn't really ring true for me. His infatuation seemed to devalue their friendship in the way that it served as a convenient motivation for his continued resistance to his Dad's tyranny. It would have been way cooler if Sunya's personality (which did rock) was the main instigator for Jamie's loyalty rather than an attraction which seemed to border on a fetishness for Sunya's cultural differences. It felt like the crush had been added mainly for the benefit of the adult cute factor and removing it could have opened up the book to more young male readers.

Those issue aside there's a lot to like about this book. I always like books that hand the reins to kids in difficult situations and I really value the honesty surrounding this difficult topic. It's also a pretty funny read too. 3/5 stars.
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Faster, Higher, Stronger than you

Wow. Well the Olympic ceremony definitely exceeded this cynic's expectations. It was all just so...entertaining. The fireworks, light displays and set were incredible but it was that perfectly British combination of self-deprecating humour and optimism that really swayed me. The NHS montage was a bit bizarre but as the music scenes unfolded I started to feel this unfamiliar sense of national pride creep over me.

I've heard argued that the ingrained British physical education ideologies of fair play and 'it's the taking part that matters' have hampered our performance on the world stage. Compared to societies that prize competition in sport from an early age like the U.S.A and China, our more inclusive educational approach supposedly fails to inspire and prioritise those that could become olympic athletes.

I can see the logic of this argument. When I started secondary school in the UK in 1998 I can remember P.E teachers encouraging those that excelled at athletics to compete at annual regional events. The students that broke local records were encouraged to keep competing but there was no structured programme in place to develop their talent. As a state grammar school, the overall message was that entry to university was prioritised over aspiring to being a professional athlete. P.E lessons felt like an introduction to each activity rather than an opportunity to develop your skills. I was one of the best tennis players in my class but didn't feel comfortable asking to be matched with a partner of my ability during games lessons, so just ended up knocking the ball about with my friends while we worked on our tans.

Hopefully London 2012 already has and will continue to change this, both by ploughing more money into sport development and creating visible athletic role models. The inclusion of established, retired and up-and-coming athletes in the ceremony last night reiterated that we are capable of producing brilliant and successful sporting men and women. I'd like to see more of a sense of competition and support for the strongest students introduced to state educational P.E lessons. If the current passion for sport spills over into these sessions come September then encouraging competition is surely a better motivator for less able students than limply congratulating them for taking part. Because if the most able students aren't helped to improve and praised for this, what hope is there for the others?
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