Master of the currents: pint-sized Bobby is the shy hero of My Teacher Is a Monster!
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Pranksters and ponies: the best new children’s books for summer

What should you pack for the summer holiday?

For children as for adults, the best time to read is during the summer holidays. But what to pack?

Peter Brown’s My Teacher Is a Monster! (Macmillan, £11.99) may bring back fearful memories of school for five-plus, but is an otherwise witty, elegantly expressive picture book from the author of Mr Tiger Goes Wild. There’s a touch of Maurice Sendak in his hero’s discovery that monsters are not always what they seem. We have all been the terrified, pop-eyed Bobby at some point, but beleaguered teachers trying to control a class will welcome his discovery that the fearsomely tusked, green-faced monster who shouts at him for misbehaving morphs into a kind young woman after he rescues her favourite hat.

A perfectly horrid picture book, In One End and Out the Other by Dr Mike Goldsmith (Red Shed, £8.99), will cause howls of rude delight as it goes into the fundamentals of excrement. The flaps conceal useful information (“A plastic carrier bag can take 1,000 years to decompose”) for future citizens, but there’s enough toilet humour to make it irresistible for four-plus.

Philip Reeve’s Goblins, Philip Ardagh’s The Grunts and Cressida Cowell’s How to Train Your Dragon books all have delightful new instalments out this summer, but for the nine-plus football-mad reader, Morris Gleitzman’s Extra Time (Puffin, £6.99) is a comedy with brains and heart. Matt is a teenage football genius, and his struggles are narrated by his younger sister – and manager. Will he rediscover “the joyful spirit of the beautiful game”, or will his academy training destroy it?

David Almond’s Klaus Vogel and the Bad Lads (Barrington Stoke, £6.99, nine-plus) is about a gang whose pranks are fairly innocent until a scrawny, musical kid from East Germany turns up and becomes the focus for the gang leader Joe’s persecutions. Almond has a huge talent for describing the eternal battle between what is vile in human nature and the still, small voice of moral courage.

It is this voice that also comes through in Esme Kerr’s The Glass Bird Girl (Chicken House, £6.99). Edie is an orphan, sent to boarding school to keep an eye on Anasta­sia, the dreamy, vulnerable daughter of a wealthy Russian prince. Naturally, the old-fashioned Malory Towers setting (“You will find, in the end, that it’s a relief not to be in touch with the outside world,” the head teacher tells Edie) brings with it bullying, but what emerges is a web of deception with its roots in Edie’s mother’s past. Sensitively written, this is a cut above most fiction for girls of nine-plus.

An enchanting historical novel for 11-plus is Runaway by Marie-Louise Jensen (Oxford University Press, £6.99). Back from America in Georgian England, Charlotte dresses up as a boy after her father is murdered. She’s friendless and penniless but her love and knowledge of horses win her a job as a stable-boy at a grand house. Jensen’s storytelling verve and eye for period detail make her read like a cross between Black Beauty and Georgette Heyer. Our spirited heroine overcomes a prized horse’s colic, her own tendency to attract trouble (“You fight like a girl,” she keeps being told) and a growing attachment to the young steward who offers her fair employment but fails to penetrate her disguise. With a dash of class war in the brew, it’s an addictive read.

Joanna Nadin’s Eden (Walker, £6.99) is set in Cornwall and has undertones of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. We know from the start that a beautiful house is burnt, and that Evie’s cousin Bea has died. Her grief, guilt and gorgeous narrative voice make this a memorable psychological suspense novel about first love – and first hate – for 12-plus, particularly girls.

Even more gripping is Helen Grant’s Demons of Ghent (Corgi, £7.99, 13-plus). It carries on characters from Silent Saturday, but also stands alone as a modern Gothic thriller that is never predictable. Grant is uniquely comfortable among YA authors with Continental characters and settings, and this story about a Flemish serial killer blends superstition and psychosis with visceral terror as its spiky heroine, Veerle, is pursued by a zealot who believes he is inspired by a 600-year-old painting.

Few teenagers face the problems of Sophia Bennett’s narrator in The Castle (Chicken House, £6.99). Peta doesn’t believe her soldier father is dead, and when a boy rings her to pass on a private mathematical joke, she embarks on a nail-biting quest to find and rescue her dad. Though it’s not published until August, this is one of the best thrillers for 12-plus I’ve read since Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider series. Peta is both a  believable modern teenager and an action heroine of jaw-dropping courage. So, too, is her mysterious friend Jamal, a slave on the Mediterranean island hideaway of a billionaire. This half-starved, intellectually brilliant boy is a Muslim hero who is trying to save not only his own life but his timid sister’s, in an adventure that deserves a sequel or two. Happily there is no tiresome love interest, though there are mild irritants: why make up a pseudonym for Facebook?

Ever since her 2009 prize-winning debut, Threads, Bennett has combined social conscience and emotional intelligence with hilariously accurate depictions of the fashion and pop music scenes. This one is outstanding, and will fill a holiday with zest.

Amanda Craig is a novelist and children’s books critic

This article first appeared in the 02 July 2014 issue of the New Statesman, After God Again

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Inside Syria's unending siege, civilians, not soldiers, are the victims

In Aleppo, civilian strife is just another tool of war.

Maria is a young mother who lives in Aleppo. She missed her opportunity to flee when the Syrian-Turkish border was closed to all but the seriously injured in early 2015. With her two children – Fadi, aged five, and Sama, aged nine – she stayed in the city.

Maria’s husband was killed by a barrel bomb that fell on their neighbourhood in 2014. After that, she took the children and moved in with her husband’s family. Her married brother-in-law asked her to be his second wife. She accepted the offer for the sake of security. This year he, too, was killed when a bomb fell on his shop.

Speaking to her on Skype, I referred to Aleppo as a city under siege and she quickly corrected me. “The city is not under siege,” she said. “We are human beings under siege.” Maria clearly felt offended by my words. She moved the conversation on to the images of a young Syrian boy, sitting in an ambulance, which have appeared on newspaper front pages around the world – a symbol of the human suffering in Aleppo. “What can I say? His silence and shock reflected all the pain of Syrians.”

Tearfully, she described her living conditions. “There are two widows, with three children, who live all together with our old mother-in-law. The good people around us try to give us food and clothing.”

She added: “Before, I used to cook a big meal for me and my family-in-law every day. My late husband was well off.” The children don’t go to school but they get some lessons at home – Maria used to work as an Arabic language teacher at a high school in the city.

The household’s other widow, Safaa, joined our conversation. “Since the first day of Eid ul-Fitr [the festival that marks the end of Ramadan, this year on 6 July], the siege began in Aleppo. There was no food or water. Children cried and could not sleep because of hunger.”

Safaa made food from pulses that she had managed to save, particularly lentils. As the area around the city is rich in olives and well known for producing za’atar herbs, the extended family depended on reserves of these for nutrition. “Al-za’atar al-akhdar [a dish of the herb, olive oil and a few other basic ingredients] has saved the reputation of Aleppo and its people,” Safaa joked, and both women laughed.

Then, suddenly, the Skype connection was lost and they both disappeared.

Another Aleppo native to whom I spoke, Ayham, described his desperation as he finished his engineering degree before fleeing Syria. “I am my mother’s only son, so I didn’t want to do military service, and I left, as I felt so insecure,” he told me. He had been living in Shahbaa, a neighbourhood controlled by Bashar al-Assad’s regime, while completing one application after another to study abroad. Eventually he was successful and he has now made it to a university in Europe.

Ayham’s parents were pushing him to leave because they knew that he was part of an underground anti-Assad protest movement. “There are two Aleppos,” he explained. “One is free and the other is controlled by Assad’s regime. Both are very unsafe . . . Living hungry was easier than living under threat.”

There are roughly two million people in the city, most of them women and children. Since the second day of the siege, there have been no fruit or vegetables available and only a few bakeries are producing bread. Compounding the starvation, the bombing has been intense, hitting hospitals, ambulances, blood banks and the Syrian Civil Defence base. Assad’s regime is targeting vital resources for civilians.
Even after rebel forces, in co-operation with the Islamist faction Jaish al-Fateh, managed partly to break the siege and open a new road into the south of the city through the Ramoussa area, they could not bring in enough food. The little that made it inside immediately sent prices soaring. Civilians could not use this road to escape – jets were targeting the routes in and out.

The eastern areas of Aleppo, which are still under the opposition’s control, are also still without aid, because of how risky it is to get there. All the talk coming out of the city today is about decisive battles between Assad’s forces and the rebels in the southern quarters. Civilians put the recent air strikes down to these conflicts – it has long been believed that when the regime loses ground, it intensifies its bombing as revenge, and to send a message to those who continue to resist.

People in Aleppo and the north-eastern territories of Syria are suffering and dying. They have no other choice. It seems that both Isis and the Assad regime are trying as hard as they can to destroy Syrian civilians, whether through direct attacks or by gradual starvation.

There is little information available, as both sides attempt to prevent the media from documenting life under siege. Isis accuses journalists of being agents of Assad, while the regime portrays reporters as terrorists. Pro-Assad social media accounts have alleged that Mahmoud Raslan, who took the footage of the boy in the ambulance, has links with terrorism. The same channels have yet to say much about Raslan’s subject – Omran Daqneesh, the five-year-old whom he showed, bloodied and stunned, after the boy was pulled from the rubble caused by multiple air strikes. Omran’s ten-year-old brother, Ali, has since died from injuries sustained in another attack.

After four hours, I heard back from Maria. She apologised for losing the connection and asked me not to worry about her. “All of us are fine. We did not die yet,” she said. Her daughter, Sama, has not been to school since last year, she told me, and now studies only Arabic poetry. They have no books, so she depends on the verses that Maria knows by heart. Sama misses her school and her friends, and though she remembers their faces she has forgotten their names.

Maria has made a doll for her out of scraps of fabric and they call it Salwa. Together, they sing Syrian folk songs for the doll, in particular one that goes: “Hey Salwa, why are you crying? I need a friend.” Maria is resigned. As she says, “We are back in the Stone Age.” 

K S is a Syrian journalist, based in Sweden since 2014

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser