Book buddying - knots and treasures - by Joan Haig

I've decided to return to my 'book buddies' mini reviews. I like gifting books in pairs. Sometimes I choose books that are wildly different to one another; at other times, I select books for their overlapping themes. As I book swap and buy secondhand books, not all are new releases. Every quarter I will be sharing a book buddy pair here.

These two books are beautiful. They are strikingly orange - perfect for summertime! The Armourer's House by Rosemary Sutcliff, originally published in 1951, invites readers into the Tudor world of nine-year-old Tamsyn who moves from the seaside to London, where unexpected adventure awaits. There's something enthralling about reading historical fiction that is itself tipping into a historical read. As with other Manderley Press titles, this one is expertly prefaced - here by Lara Maiklem, author of Mudlarking. The shoreside theme is a perfect match for Knots and How to Tie Them by Lucy Davidson, which does exactly what it says on the cover. More than this, it goes against the grain of marketing the art of knot tying chiefly to boys. Both books are tactile and filled with skills and story that will broaden young horizons.

The Armourer's House by Rosemary Sutcliff, illustrated by Isabel Greenberg

40 Knots and How to Tie Them by Lucy Davidson, illustrated by Maria Nilsson

Previous book buddies include...

The Race by Roy Peachey
Danny Chung does not do maths by Maisie Chan

Here are two impressive debuts aimed at untangling Chinese people and culture from their stereotypes. I'm not sure Danny Chung's family escapes the stereotyping, but Danny does - and his escapades are bright with wit, charm and (often delicious sounding) cultural detail. The Race is dual narrative, but the voice that dominates is Lili, a young girl already wearied by other people's inability to grasp her identity as British Chinese and adopted. While Chan and Peachey's writing, tone and narratives are nothing alike, both books are about competition, loyalty, classroom antics and grandmothers. They'll make young readers think outside boxes and will leave them smiling.

 

Jack's Well by Alan McClure
Beside the Ocean of Time by George Mackay Brown

In some ways, these books are nothing like each other. (They are certainly like nothing else.) Jack's Well is honest, clever and original and is worthy company for this most unusual and moving novel by Scottish literary hero Mackay Brown. Both are about a boy. Both are about daydreams, fate and building existential narratives. And, as if mirroring the themes in form, both take you outside the main body; there are stories within the story. I'd gift these book buddies to curious teen readers who like a bit of swashbuckling alongside their soul searching.

 

 

 

The Girl Who Lost Her Shadow by Emily Ilett
The Shark Caller by Zillah Bethell

The first two books I am buddying both speak the lyrical, rolling language of the sea. One is set in Scotland and the other in Papua New Guinea. These stories will take young readers on very different but equally ethereal and engaging adventures, while preparing them for (or helping them to) confront painful issues - namely, loss and coping with change. Both celebrate sisterhood. These book buddies are the literary equivelant of sea salt and buttery caramel - a winning combination.

 

 

I hope you've enjoyed my pairings. My next book buddy post will be in Autumn!

The Writing Gift - by Rowena House

 

For December, I want to be festive and positive, despite Brexit and Covid19 and Climate Change. Here, I wanted to say how precious the good things are in bad times. Family. Home. Nature. Writing.

Our new puppy brightens the future and softens the shadows of grief.

Sadly, I can’t force festive positivity today. It’s Monday morning, and the piece I drafted on Sunday is trite, with a naff extended metaphor about writing as a gift. What can I salvage from it?

Writing has been a gift this year. Not the doing of it; that’s been hard for a lot of us. But planning the work-in-progress, however slowly and sporadically, provided the time and head space to investigate and imagine, to analyse and gain perspective.

This Yuletide I’m planning to light a candle to whatever ancestors bequeathed us writers with the genetic code for curiosity of mind, plus the ability and drive to turn thoughts into words.

This quote, attributed to Jack Kerouac, sums up this end-of-year feeling nicely: “One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” 

  

I’m also deeply grateful for the sense of connection with other writers throughout the year. Thank you especially to writer friends for long, supportive phone calls, and to Arvon for Zoom masterclasses. Writers on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter have kept open windows into our world, too. Thank you.

As I blathered on about yesterday (having googled writing as a gift), creativity is also about giving. If the ideas and insights we get from research, planning and plotting are what we receive, it is the stories we create out of them that we give back.

See? I said it was trite. Nevertheless, in difficult times, I find that separation reassuring.

The intrinsic value of writing (the received bits) can stand alone for now; there’s no need to worry about findings readers or pitching to editors; that way madness lies.

It’s OK, too, if the forge of inspiration turns out to be stone cold (to mix metaphors, soz.)  Just stack the ore of the story into a corner; there’ll be time to sift through it one day.

A form of giving that’s been hard to accomplish this year is teaching creative writing. I hugely admire all of you who’ve kept going remotely. Young people need to express their thoughts and feelings more than ever. Congratulations if you gave them that gift.

Ordinarily, I try to develop these blogs into something worth reading, but the puppy needs walking, logs brought in (our central heating boiler died), There are business calls to make, an invoice to be emailed, then we've got to go to my elderly dad's.

The Christmas tree is still in its pot in a quiet corner of the garden where it lives between its short weeks of glory, and for a few more days the decorations will have remain in their boxes.  

Meanwhile, I hope you are better prepared. More festive and positive. Feeling resilient in the face of whatever 2021 will fling at us.

I wish you as happy a midwinter festival as your circumstances allow, and send love to those grieving, sick, fearful, hungry or homeless here and abroad.

May the New Year be a creative, caring time for you and yours.