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

Gaia with an iPad? Thomas Friedman's ideas for the future of humanity are already old hat

Thank You for Being Late: an Optimist's Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations restates the dominant doctrine of America's political centre – with some added name-dropping, of course.

“I want everyone to become an American,” Thomas Friedman, arguably his country’s most influential newspaper columnist, told the New Yorker in 2008, the year in which the collapse of Lehman Brothers nearly crashed the world financial system. The three-time Pulitzer-winning New York Times journalist, whose paeans to US-led globalisation The Lexus and the Olive Tree and The World is Flat became bestsellers in the Clinton-Bush era, has largely left the failures of the market unacknowledged over his three decades at America’s liberal paper of record. The 2008 recession gets only a passing reference in his new book, Thank You for Being Late, where the high priest of the global marketplace evangelises over the web’s role in transforming the modern world.

In Friedman’s eyes, computing has had a more profound impact on the human race than fire and electricity, which failed to connect us with “all the world’s knowledge or all the world’s people”. As we move from the Industrial Age to the digital economy, the “three largest forces on the planet” – technology, globalisation and climate change (which he terms “Moore’s Law”, “the Market” and “Mother Nature”) are accelerating at such a speed that their impact on our futures is almost unfathomable.

But Friedman – whose folksy demeanour caused his New Yorker profiler to compare him to “a chipper uncle in line at a barbecue” – hopes to put readers at ease and persuade us to adapt to changes that will make humanity “more efficient than we ever imagined we could be”. We meet an optimistic Gordon Moore, whose half-century-old law shows how computing power is destined to  increase exponentially, and Friedman assures us that, even at 86 years old, “all of his microprocessors were definitely still functioning with tremendous efficiency!”.

In Thank You for Being Late, part theoretical sweep, part hand-shaking travelogue, the author traverses the globe in search of the “smart” technology that is revolutionising our lives (“That garbage can could take an SAT exam!” he exclaims at one point). We are introduced to Watson, a supercomputer that is looking to “get certified to read and interpret X-rays”, and to a “connected cow”, strapped to pedometers and linked by radio signal to a farmer, which allows him to gauge when best to administer artificial insemination, “maximising” the farm’s output. Never missing an opportunity to shoehorn in a mention of his own connections, Friedman namedrops Bill Gates, Sergey Brin (who shows him a prototype of Google’s “self-driving vehicle”) and the Archbishop of Canterbury, and at one point notes needlessly: “By coincidence, I had just interviewed President Barack Obama in the Oval Office about Iran a week earlier.”

His compendium of the digital present features all the usual suspects – Uber, Amazon, Airbnb – and compels us to imagine what life really was like in 2004 when ­“Facebook didn’t even exist yet”. Replete with buzzwords – selfie sticks, gig economy, sexting (the “tool du jour of edgy teenagers”, apparently) – the book is bold enough to borrow terms without crediting their authors (Niall Ferguson’s “killer apps”) and to coin its own, recasting the digital “cloud”, say, as the more impressive “Supernova”.

Friedman, who has stated his wish to rid environmentalism of its “liberal, tree-hugging, sissy, girlie-man” connotations, muses that since human beings have become almost godlike, we should harness technological innovation to address ecological crises. Think Gaia with an iPad. Now that mankind, empowered by “the Supernova”, is a force “of nature” and “on nature”, we have a duty to protect Mother Nature, who knows when she is experiencing stress or “getting a fever”. The author is aware of the planet’s limitations, as when he contemplates the extinction of rhinos, macaws and orang-utans and observes mournfully that “no 3-D printer will bring them back to life”.

Friedman’s travels take him to Greenland and West Africa, via India, Madagascar and Kurdistan, but he seems most ­comfortable when back home in America, where he seeks most of his insights from members of the elite – CEOs of computer firms, “legendary” venture capitalists – united in their belief that technology can save the world.

In Silicon Valley he gets inside the multinationals that humanity’s hopes are pinned on. There he finds his own, often italicised, banalities (“Guessing is officially over”, “naïveté is the new realism”) reflected back at him: IBM’s senior vice-president of cognitive solutions tells him the future “is much closer than you think” and the co-founder of LinkedIn talks of investing “in the start-up of you”. Email exchanges and Skype conversations are reproduced at length. He plucks lines from Joni Mitchell songs and recent hit films (Captain Phillips, The Martian). Discussing the temptation to stand still when the pace of change becomes overwhelming, he republishes the blogpost of an Olympic bronze-medal-winning kayaker.

Friedman’s wish to simplify arguments for his huge readership is driven by an overarching belief that democracy can only work when the people are able to make intelligent policy decisions, and not “fall prey to demagogues, ideological zealots or conspiracy buffs”. However, he is also willing to propose his own solutions, which he believes are “unlike anything on offer in America today”. Noting that the mainstream left/right parties are no longer fit for purpose, he wants to see a new force emerge to embrace international free-trade agreements, compassionate border control (“a very high wall with a very big gate”) and generous tax incentives for many of the big tech firms he interviewed for his book. He suggests calling it the “Making the Future Work for Everybody” party.

Friedman’s manifesto, far from breaking new ground, merely restates the dominant doctrine of America’s political centre. The author, a self-described “baby boomer”, shares his clique’s belief that the “titanic stubbornness” of empowered individuals drives humanity forward. Their companies should be left to themselves, paying little tax and gathering Big Data. Everyone should be given the opportunity to become an entrepreneur, a “citizen-worker”, financialising their everyday life and maximising their output. Those reluctant to do so will be left behind in the sweep of progress.

A dogmatic belief in the endurance of US power makes the author willing to cast an eye past his country’s frontiers, as “drones alone are a cure-nothing”. America, according to Friedman, acts as the last and best hope for those who find themselves living in the “World of Disorder”, his term for a long list of non-Western nations. So people in “places like Niger”, where people have “more kids as social security”, may also be offered the chance to achieve salvation.

Friedman’s epoch, the “Age of Accelerations”, coincides with the years following the financial crash: in his country, an age of retreat, when work became more precarious, economic safety nets more frayed, and society more inward-looking, culminating in the election of an illiberal nativist to the White House. Though he offers some familiar cures to America’s ills (“all that stuff you can’t download – the high five from a coach . . . the hug from a friend”), he warns that in this brave new world, we must adapt or die.

Declaring that “average is officially over”, Friedman wills his readers to wave goodbye to the days when you could just show up and do your job. This is dangerous territory for a twice-weekly op-ed journalist with a world-view unchanged over decades, who offers his readers orthodox prescriptions only. He must be praying that artificially intelligent supercomputers don’t take to column-writing any time soon. 

Thank You for Being Late: an Optimist's Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations by Thomas L Friedman is published by Allen Lame (496pp, £25)

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage