Why Funny Books Don’t Win Prizes – by Emma Barnes

Funny books aren’t taken seriously by prize committees.

This was the point that Julia Eccleshare recently addressed in her Guardian blog, raised by a reader who had been casting her eye over this year’s Carnegie shortlist.  The Carnegie is the UK’s longest established and probably still most prestigious prize for children’s fiction.  It is chosen by librarians – the adult children’s book establishment.  And so it really does matter what kind of books they choose.

As Julia Eccleshare acknowledged, the shortlist featured books about warring states, bereavement, terrorist attacks, poverty and corruption.  There really wasn’t a lot of light relief.

Now, I like funny books.   When I read children’s books for my own delight, it is the funny ones I take down from the shelf.  I defy anyone to feel glum, while reading a copy of The Church Mice Adrift or Dougal’s Scottish Holiday.  Adrian Mole Aged 13 and 3/4 is the title guaranteed to make me split my sides laughing: however flu-ridden, I am likely to end up falling out of bed.

Not only do I like reading them, I try and write humorous books myself.

Intrigued, I went and cast my eye over winners of the Carnegie.  The only recent title that leaped out at me as clearly comic was Terry Pratchett's The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, the winner in 2001.  That’s eleven years ago.  Not that recent, then.

In 1991, Anne Fine – a comic writer of genius, in my opinion - won with Flour Babies.  Only actually that was a rather sombre title about the unfunny subject of parental responsibility (not one of her best, I'd say, and nothing like as good or as funny as the brilliant Diary of a Killer Cat).   Before that, Gene Kemp in 1977 (for the truly wonderful The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tyler) was the last outright funny author to win the award.

As Julia Eccleshare points out, the Roald Dahl award now exists specifically for funny books.  But it was invented because funny books were being excluded from the mainstream shortlists.  And funny books shouldn’t be stuck in some kind of ghetto .  A truly funny book is a joy forever – and more than that, it’s a bloody good book!

Myths about Funny Children’s Books

They don’t have anything interesting to say about political and social issues

Read Adrian Mole – it probably gives a far better impression of Britain in the 1980s, the economic hardships and political debates, than other children’s books of the time.

They are not sophisticated, but all about farts and poo-jokes

Helen Cresswell’s Bagthorpe saga is an incredibly witty series – full of elaborate puns and jokes referencing Shakespeare and other luminaries of the English lit canon.  Or look at Anthony Buckeridge’s Jennings if you want elaborately funny plots worthy of PG Wodehouse. Or Graham Oakley for superbly witty illustrations.

They don’t tackle difficult themes

The brilliantly funny The Worst Children in the World: the Best Christmas Pageant Ever is about (I reckon) poverty, social exclusion and the all-inclusive possibilities of religious belief, all told in the form of a hilarious story about a Nativity Play.  Top that if you can!

They don’t need prizes – they will be popular anyway

That may be true of some - Horrid Henry or Mr Gum - but a Newbury Prize (the American Carnegie equivalent) might have helped the brilliantly funny Fudge books or The Best Christmas Pageant Ever to become better known outside their native land, and a Carnegie might have helped the wonderful Catweazle or Jennings books to stay in print.

(And these days, when authors and series are axed much more quickly if the sales aren't coming through, there is no time for the slow-burn build of word-of-mouth.  Being overlooked at first can mean an author never makes the big time.)

It’s not hard to write a funny book

This is a widely held view about both adult and children’s books.  And wrong.  I’d submit it’s far easier to write a tragic tale than a comedy.  Kill off a child – better yet an animal – you will make the reader cry.  But to make them laugh?  That’s real craftsmanship.  To prove my point have a look at Joan Lennon’s blog where she quotes the master comic craftsman PG Wodehouse.

 Brilliantly funny stories that never won the Carnegie Prize

Crummy Mummy and Me

Hilarous stories about a punk mother and a daughter old before her time.  I especially like the story with the squashed dog.

(Also look out for Fine's wonderful Diary of a Killer Cat series and the Summer House Loon – her first novel, and a masterpiece.)

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing

The first of the hilarious Fudge books.  One of the biggest selling books ever in the US – but could be better known in Europe, where we think Blume is all about bras and puberty.

The Legend of Spud Murphy

Manages to make a story about going to the local library absolutely hilarious. 

Dougal’s Scottish Holiday

How wee Dougie takes the Magic Roundabout gang to Scotland – who knew golf could be this funny?  Eric Thompson's other titles are equally good.

Adrian Mole Aged 13 and ¾

Recently voted by Radio 4 readers as their favourite comic novel – reckon it’s my favourite too.

The Church Mice Adrift

 

Humphrey the mouse lecturing the revolting rats on Etiquette at the Court of King Louis XIV and nearly getting nobbled for his pains – it’s class, pure class.

Catweazle

This started life as a hit TV series about a time-travelling eleventh century magician which still has its fans on DVD - I reckon the book should be much better known.

The Ogre Downstairs

The funniest of all Jones’s fantasies  – but one of the least acclaimed.

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

These are American classics - but hardly known in Europe.  They are side-splittingly funny, and full of heart.

Link to Julia Eccleshare’s article

Emma Barnes's latest book is How (Not) To Make Bad Children Good

Check out Emma’s web-site or follow Emma on twitter or facebook.

BOOKSELLER SUNDAYS: What greater pleasure? – Eve Griffiths at The Bookcase, Lowdham

The second in our new series of Sunday guest blogs by booksellers who work with children’s authors. These guest blogs are designed to show life behind the scenes of a crucial but neglected relationship – the one between a writer and a bookseller. These days, such relationships are more intense and more important, as increasing numbers of authors go on the road to promote children’s books – a goal shared by the booksellers who will contribute to this series.

The Bookcase is a ‘small independent bookshop with a big imagination’ situated in the village of Lowdham, eight miles north of Nottingham. The Bookcase’s proprietor is Jane Streeter (second from right), who runs the shop with a friendly team: Louise Haines, Jo Blaney, myself, Marion Turner and Kendall Turner (pictured left to right above).

Three years ago I (as one of the assistants) began a reading group at our local village school. This coincided with our 10th Annual Book Festival. So, to celebrate, I went in once a month until we had read 10 books. The 12 children read each book and then wrote a review, which formed the basis of a display at our book festival. We read all sorts – from contemporary authors to Enid Blyton and Richmal Crompton – and one poetry book. I have used a few different poetry books, but the first was Carol Ann Duffy’s The Hat, which was very timely as I’d handed it out to the children just before she was announced as the Poet Laureate! We’ve also used Gervase Phinn’s There’s an Alien in the Classroom, and others over the three years we’ve been involved in the project.


Each month I went into school so that we could have a discussion, which made the youngsters feel very grown up!


The idea became so popular that I have been approached by other schools, so this year I am working in four schools – always with Year 6 children. The group is aimed at the more able readers. (The thinking behind this is that so much is done to encourage the less able readers: those who are keen readers need some sort of outlet for their enthusiasm.)


This year, I have found a real difference in ability from one school to another. Not only is the reading ability markedly higher in one school, but the children are much more mature. This makes it harder for me to choose appropriate books, so I’m always keen to hear of the experiences of others who work with children of a similar age.


Michael Morpurgo is, of course, unfailingly popular, but I’ve also had real success with Michelle Paver’s Wolf Brother and Morris Gleitzman’s Once. In both cases, several of the children have gone on to read the sequels. We have offered a discount to reading group members who have ordered sequels.


After Christmas I will be discussing David Almond’s Skellig with two schools and Dogsbody by Diana Wynne Jones with our most able readers and Once with the fourth group.

After reading your blog, I have ordered a copy of Penny Dolan’s A Boy Called M O U S E to consider as one of next half-term’s books. With four schools to visit, I see each group once only per half-term, now. I really enjoy having one poetry book to discuss, and each member is expected to read aloud a poem of their choice. There is always one group member – usually a boy – who chooses the shortest in the book, so they then have to read a poem of my choosing!


One of the greatest joys I have experienced is a group of reading enthusiasts clamouring to tell you how much they have enjoyed a book. What greater pleasure can there be than to have introduced children to a book they love and an author they want to read again!

Please let me know of any really popular choices!

Eve Griffiths, The Bookcase

The Bookcase’s website: http://www.thebookcase.co.uk/

Watch out for Independent Booksellers Week a campaign celebrating independents on the high street, which this year takes place between 30th June and 7th July.

Too Much Writing Wisdom? - Lucy Coats

Sir Terry Pratchett has just won the 13th Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction. This is excellent.  He is, undoubtedly, a very funny writer, and deserves it.  The prize includes having a Gloucester Old Spot pig named in his honour - and doesn't every author secretly aspire to that?

Many people (including some whose judgement I respect greatly) dismiss Terry's writing as mass-market schlock, saying that his humour is infantile and his plots verge on the ridiculous.  They find the covers (of the paperbacks) hideously overfull of bosomy blondes, chunky swords, ugly assorted mythical creatures and posturing musclebound heroes. Others admit to reading him, but undercover (oh, the bliss of the e-reader for allowing one to peruse a whole host of 'unsuitable' books in public!).  Personally, I am an out-and-proud Pratchett fan and happy to tell anyone what they are missing out on (serious subjects and ideas such as the the power of journalism, astronomy, the Gulf War, feminism, high finance and racism are just a few he covers).

However, it's neither the fact that he's won a prize, nor the merits of his work that I want to write about today.  At this year's Hay Festival, Terry described writing as "running down a hill with wings on your back and taking flight, although sometimes you have to run up and down a few hills."  Absolutely true - at least that's how it feels to me too.  There are many such gems of writing wisdom out there (from a myriad authors), for those who wish to look for them, as well as reams of advice on everything from punctuation to publication.  But I do wonder if there's too much.  I wonder if those starting out on this writing journey are now faced with so much material telling them how to write, that they lose sight of the main objective - which is to apply bum to seat and just do it.  In other words, the physical practice of setting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) is worth a million 'self-help' books.

Asked about the best way to write fantasy, Terry advised looking at how the best do it and told his listeners: “do not sit around listening to me, you should be at home typing.”  Absolutely.  When I am asked for advice by children, I tell them I have only two essential pieces of writing wisdom to impart.

1: Read voraciously.
2: Write something every day.  

For all the blogs, books, rules and tips out there, in the end, I believe that is the only writing wisdom anyone who truly has the passion to start on this mad creative rush down the hill really needs, (perhaps in conjunction with Terry's other exhortation to find your own writing voice).   So I'll add in his immortal words:

3. "For Heaven's sake, don't try and write like me. That is suicide."

What do all of you think?

Whatever it is, it's still wrong - John Dougherty

Having overslept a little, I'm just packing to go off to the Wychwood festival in Cheltenham, to hang out in the Children's Literature tent with the likes of Philip Ardagh, Jamila Gavin, and our very own Elen Caldecott & Cindy Jefferies. So today's post is going to be a relatively short follow-on from my last one, with other people doing most of the talking.

The destruction of our library services continues apace, and there have been a number of developments over the past couple of weeks.

For me, the most shocking one is probably the revelation that Surrey County Council, having justified their plan to offload their libraries on to undertrained volunteers on the grounds of cost - "The initiative is part of the county council's aim to keep all 52 of its libraries open despite the fact other local authorities are closing branches across the country due to financial constraints" - have now blithely admitted that it will save no money at all. Not a penny. So why the hell are they doing it? Why have they wasted taxpayers' money on a court case? Why are they trying to downgrade such an important public resource?

It begins to look as if these closures are ideological. But whose ideology? Yes, most of the councils that are closing libraries are Conservative-controlled; but if we put this down to Toryism, how do we explain the disgraceful behaviour of Labour-run Brent Council, with their secretive, heavy-handed night-raid and acts of cultural vandalism?

Perhaps it's not ideology. Perhaps it's idiocy. Perhaps, as Philip Pullman says, our libraries are in the hands of people who simply don't understand them. Or perhaps all our major political parties are now infected by the same stupid, greedy philosophy which says that unless you can see exactly how much money something is making, it has no value.

Whatever the reason, something has to be done before it's too late, and the person who should be doing it is Culture Minister Ed Vaizey. But he's doing nothing. He can't even be bothered to reply to campaigners' letters.

So I ask again - what's wrong with Ed Vaizey?


John's website is at www.visitingauthor.com.
He's on twitter as @JohnDougherty8.

His latest books include:

Finn MacCool and the Giant's Causeway - a retelling for the Oxford Reading Tree
Bansi O'Hara and the Edges of Hallowe'en
Zeus Sorts It Out - "A sizzling comedy... a blast for 7+" , and one of The Times' Children's Books of 2011, as chosen by Amanda Craig

Diamonds are forever ..... by Miriam Halahmy

"It's our diamond birthday," my oldest friend Jean announced to me earlier this year. So me and the Queen - we arrived at the same point together somehow. There was no escaping it. On May 31st 2012 I would join the ranks of old codgers, senior citizens, OAPs, and the worse thing? I won't even get my freedom pass until July 2014.
The only way to cope was to plan a zillion celebrations - just like the Queen. I invited some of my writer friends over for what I called, 'A writer's brunch' in the garden. They loved it! We drank Prosecco and talked about books and I even thought of making a speech. Fortunately I abandoned that idea quickly and read a poem instead. No, I didn't take photos and plaster them all over Facebook. We just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company.
Although I didn't get any diamonds ( because I became one??) I got some great presents. This one could have been from the Queen I suppose. Actually it was from another friend, Liz, who went diamond the month before me. "Its got your dates on it," she quipped.

My lovely husband ( who gave me far too many presents) has discovered that you can get pictures onto mugs. So here is one of his presents ( the patriotic teapot is from my daughter.)

We all went out for lunch and suddenly, after the meals, my daughter says, "Turn round mum." And there was the cake. I was speechless ( unusual for me!)

The waitress was giving me such strange looks so I said, "Don't worry, its my book cover." She smiled with relief.
So if you are about to go diamond here are three tips :
1. Ignore the friends who gasp in horror - they don't mean anything, its just such a big number and everyone wants to be 40 something these days ( yeah, even the 20 somethings - don't ask me!)
2. Have lots of little parties and celebrations, it helps you to absorb the impact coming up to meet you.
3. And make sure you get your book cover on a cake - its utterly amazing!

I'm happy for you to comment, but don't feel you ALL have to wish me happy birthday - there was loads on Facebook and we don't want to clog ABBA up.

Characters Make Stories by Karen King

Writers work in lots of different ways. For some writers the story plot comes first - Stephanie Meyer apparently actually dreamt the whole plot of Twilight, wrote it up and we all know what happened next. For other writers the title comes first - a writer friend of mine finds it difficult to write a story if she hasn't got a title - but for me the character comes first.

I have to know all about my character before I can write my story. I like to know what they look like, how they talk, think and act, what their family is like, who their friends – and enemies are. In a nutshell, I want to know what makes them tick. I think that it's the character that makes the story because different people react in different ways to situations, things that are a problem to one character aren't to another. So you can have the same scenario but would get a different story according to the character you're writing about.


If I can't think of a character for a story I look at some pictures and ask myself questions about them. Take a look at these characters, for example. What do you think their personalities are like? Where do they live? Who are their friends or enemies?

Then I try to place my character in a situation that might cause them a problem. Imagine if each of these three characters met a ghost. How would they react? Would they be frightened? I play around with the idea a bit, imagining all sorts of scenarios until I have a story plot that will work.

How about you? How do you get you work? Do you need to know your character first, your title, your story plot  or do you just start writing and go with the flow?

Visit my website at www.karenking.net

BOOKSELLER SUNDAYS: An invitation to writers from Meryl Halls at the Booksellers Association

This is the first in our new series of guest blogs by booksellers. These blogs are designed to show life behind the scenes of a crucial but neglected relationship – the one between writers and booksellers. Here Meryl Halls shares news of some exciting initiatives and invites writers to participate in the events such as ‘Strictly Come Bookselling’ during the fifth Independent Booksellers Week, which this year takes place between 30th June and 7th July.

My main responsibilities lie in working with independent booksellers, and over the last five years we have established a thriving Independent Booksellers Forum, which organizes events and campaigns for the 1000+ indie bookshops still operating in the UK and Ireland.

I’ve always been a book-lover, and my earliest and most vivid childhood memories revolve around our annual trips from Scotland to visit family friends in Meldreth, near Cambridge. A trip to Heffers Children’s Bookshop was the highlight of every trip (for me, if not for my brother!). I can hardly put into words the excitement of walking through the door and smelling ‘that’ smell.

As a teenager and student, I worked in the local indie bookshop in my small Scottish home town, though it is now sadly long-closed. Whenever I am home visiting family, one of the biggest pleasures for me, my husband and my two teenage children is to visit the wonderful Main Street Trading Company in St Boswells. So, you could say I have the perfect job – and you’d not be far wrong!

At the BA, our umbrella brand for our indie activity is IndieBound, a marketing campaign begun in the USA, which focuses on the importance of shopping locally, shopping independently and creating a strong community. When we introduced the campaign into the UK, it immediately resonated with UK booksellers and it has provided both the BA and our members with opportunities to start a meaningful conversation with customers about how important their consumer behaviour is in keeping retail areas diverse, bookshops thriving and high streets healthy.

We have migrated our IndieBound messages about community engagement and shopping locally into our more recent ‘Keep Books on the High Street’ campaign, which is currently entering a new phase, and is reaching out to authors for support. You can see more here.

We will be back in touch with SAS members about the campaign, but in the meantime if you are interested in providing us with a quote in support of indie or high street bookselling, or – even better – if you are prepared to record a short spoken piece on the same subject, we would love to hear from you – email us here. The American BA has just launched a very similar initiative called ‘Why Indies Matter’, and you can see some of your fellow authors talking about indie bookshops on this link to the US IndieBound site.

The main reason, though, that I’m delighted to be writing this blog, is to bring SAS authors news about Independent Booksellers Week. The Week is in its fifth year, and is designed as a celebration of independent bookshops on the high street.

There are many opportunities for authors to get involved in IBW, which this year runs from 30th June to 7th July and which includes National Reading Group Day on 30th June – we have 310 bookshops signed up to take part this year, a record number, and many of them will be holding events in the bookshop during the Week. They are always looking for local authors to run events, or to participate in our ‘Strictly Come Bookselling’idea, where authors work behind the till for a couple of hours, and create a great bit of local press and PR! Or sometimes just a signing session, or to take part in a reading group discussion.

The 310 shops signed up are all over the UK and Ireland, and you can see a list of the participating shops by visiting our site. Many bookshops also run ‘authorless’ events, such a quizzes or reading groups, but most are looking to involve authors in their plans. If you are an author or illustrator and would like to get involved in IBW this year, check the website above for any UK bookshops near you and get in touch.

You could also use the BA’s author-bookseller service, AuthorBound UK, to connect to bookshops year-round – if you upload a profile, your details will be available to bookshops whenever they are searching for you, or for authors in your area. Visit the site to see more. If f you need help getting set up, then email anna.clarke@booksellers.org.uk

We’d love to work with authors more and more often. In this fast-changing book world we all love, nothing stays the same for long, and the more collaboration and shared creativity we can foster, the better. For a good overview of what the BA is up to, and to get ideas for how you can get involved, here are a few sites to visit:

http://www.booksellers.org.uk/


http://www.independentbooksellersweek.org.uk/


http://www.indiebound.org.uk/


Hope to hear from you soon!

Meryl Halls

Head of Membership Services, Booksellers Association

6 Bell Yard, London, WC2A 2JR

direct line 020 7421 4692 - switchboard 020 7421 4640

http://www.booksellers.org.uk/

Work, Rest and Play by Ann Evans

It's a bit like a busman's holiday being a writer. I mean, how many other professions actually continue to do their job after hours, just for fun?

I don't know about you, but I seem to spend my days in front of the computer - or writing - or reading, it's how I earn a crust. So when it's time to put my feet up, or have a day off, what do I usually find myself doing? Yep, you've got it – sitting in front of the computer - or writing - or reading!

I mean, does a painter and decorator dash home after a day of painting and decorating to splash more paint on his walls? I don't think so! Or does a motor mechanic swop work boots for slippers and then slide under the chassis of his car? Probably not – and certainly not by choice!

So how come writers get so absorbed in the whole world of writing and books that it takes over our lives. (Unless it's just me and I really need to get out more!)

It is nice though when you do find time to do something completely different like going out into the countryside on a warm sunny day and relaxing with a friend over a refreshing drink. Trying not, of course to chat about books and writing.

Then there's visiting the grandchildren – that's always a lovely thing to do. Oh! But what's their favourite pastime? You've got it – reading. So it's either Sam aged 2 perched on my lap while I read to him or Megan and Brennan aged 7 and 5 respectively reading to me. And what's the routine before bedtime – yup! They get a bedtime story each.

Me and my tribe - not reading!

I enjoy trying to keep fit and visit the gym whenever I can or just go for walks. But even before I set out I'm deciding what to think about during my walk or gym session. Exercising, I've found is the perfect opportunity to think up new plots or solve difficulties in something I'm working on. It's sometimes a bit annoying if you find you've arrived back home and you're only halfway through a particular chunk of dialogue though.

Bedtime is my reading for relaxation time, and two great books that I've just read one after the other were Stephen King's Under the Dome and 23.11.63 – which is based around Kennedy's assassination.

Two very long reads, so now my reading time is encroaching on sleeping time, because I just couldn't put them down, and usually only closed them when the book slid from my hands as a nodded off.

Last weekend, I painted the outside brick wall of the lower part of my house. It needed smartening up. I bought a nice big tin of red-brick paint and set to, carefully painting every brick. Believe it or not I really enjoyed it. The sun was shining and I was nowhere near my computer or a book or a notepad. Not even a pencil!

Halfway through I found myself thinking that if I'd stopped and thought was a massive job it was (a bit like writing a novel) I'd never have started. But by doing one brick at a time, and one area at a time, it soon built up. Just like writing a book or a story. Don't be put off by the massive task ahead, just do it a little at a time. Brick by brick.

So even my DIY ended up being connected to writing in a vague sort of way. I'm not complaining though. Reading and writing - I count myself very fortunate that I can indulge in these totally absorbing activities.

But I wonder how other writers drag themselves away from their work – and do they really drag themselves very far from it at all?

www.annevansbooks.co.uk

Hatty's Midnight Yard - Cathy Butler

When I was growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s, most of the children’s books I loved were set in the countryside, in villages or (at most) in small towns like the one where I lived. Yes, there were books set in cities too, but they tended to be the depressing, gritty realist ones, and I wanted adventure - and especially magical adventure. Magic, it seemed, was dispelled by petrol fumes.

There’s a long tradition dictating that the countryside is the natural home of both children and magic, no matter how few children actually live there. Maybe it goes back to Rousseau? Not only that, but in many of the classic books from my childhood there’s a gloomy sense that both magic and countryside are under threat from the creeping spread of urbanization, concreting over our imaginations and surrounding them with chain-linked fences and razor wire.

Philippa Pearce’s Tom’s Midnight Garden (1958) is a good example. In that book, young Tom Long, staying with his childless uncle and aunt in a pokey flat with no garden, finds that he is able each midnight to travel back in time to a period some 70 years earlier, when the flat was part of a grand house, and what is now a back yard containing nothing more than a car on bricks was part of an idyllic garden backing onto fields and a river. There he is able to pass his days (or rather nights) playing happily with the garden's Victorian inhabitant, a girl called Hatty.

It’s a wonderful book, but like many others of that time it’s built on the assumption that the rural past is interesting, luxuriant, and beautiful, while the urban present is dull, sterile and ugly, and likely to become more so. And that, for a child destined to spend most of her life in the future and probably in a city too, was a depressing conclusion.

Things have changed a bit. Since the 1970s a genre of urban fantasy has appeared, written by people as diverse as Michael de Larrabeiti (whose Borribles series were a pre-Punk answer to the Wombles), Diana Wynne Jones, and more recently China Miéville and ABBA’s own Elen Caldecott. It turns out that, like foxes, magic can live quite happily in cities after all. All the same, I want to do something to put the record straight for my younger self. So here, with some small adjustments, is a passage from my rewriting of Tom’s Midnight Garden.

Hatty’s Midnight Yard

Hatty was wide awake. The hands on the grandfather clock had never crawled their way so painfully to midnight. She gripped the starched sheets, hardly breathing lest she miss the signal she longed to hear.

She had always been a sound sleeper, but for the past month – since Mr Wells had been a houseguest with Aunt Melbourne, in fact – her nights had been transformed. While Mr Wells tossed in dream-troubled sleep in the room above, Hatty waited for the moment when the grandfather clock downstairs would chime its impossible thirteenth hour. Then, being careful not to wake Aunt Melbourne, she crept from her room to the hall, past the clock, as far as the door that led to the familiar garden where she had spent all the play hours of her short life. How well she knew every bush and bed of flowers! How heartily she was sick of them!

Yet here was the marvel. For the last few weeks that door had led, not to the garden but somewhere altogether stranger and more wonderful. Beyond the door lay, she knew, a mysterious paved yard, where a man with a ginger beard worked tirelessly on a motorized vehicle. The first time she had found him there she had been too shy to say a word: she had simply watched in fascinated awe as he changed the oil and worked the jack. On later visits, however, they had spoken, and discovered a shared interest in things mechanical. He had introduced her to all the mysteries of car maintenance. Her days were filled with plans for tuning and adjusting, with visions of spanners and screws, while through her slumbers drifted the acrid scent of creosote from the yard fence and the ripe odour of vulcanized rubber.

And tonight – tonight! – he had promised to show her how to strip and clean a carburettor. Perhaps they would even go for a drive, as far as Ely! Hatty’s fingers trembled at the latch. The door swung open, and she saw...

... not the vista of steel and concrete for which she yearned, but only a wasteland of grass, flowers and pointless topiary.

Hatty wept – boundlessly, recklessly, not caring whom she woke. If Aunt Melbourne should find her at that time of night she would be furious; but no punishment Aunt Melbourne could devise compared with the loss of the yard, the carburettor, and the promise of the open road.

It was not Aunt Melbourne’s hand that she felt comfortingly on her shoulder. She turned, to find the moustachioed face of Mr Wells, who had been woken from his light sleep by her cries. “Can I help?” he asked in concern.

She told him everything, then, and found him a ready listener.

“I have a idea that I know what has happened,” he said at length. “I spend much of my time dreaming of the future, and it seems to me that in your desire to build machines your mind may have joined with mine in some mysterious sympathy. Perhaps you have read my story, ‘The Chronic Argonauts’?...”

* * *

“It’s very perplexing,” remarked Aunt Melbourne the next day, after Mr Wells had left for London. “I didn’t think that two words had passed between Hatty and Mr Wells, the entire time he was here.”

“I don’t know why you invited the little oik,” replied her eldest son Hubert, stirring reluctantly from his copy of The Field. “Writes a couple of short stories and seems to believe he’s Jules Verne!”

“Quite. Yet it’s the strangest thing. When Mr Wells left, Hatty ran up to him, threw her arms about his waist and hugged him good-bye. For all the world as if he were a famous novelist!”

Now, isn’t that better?