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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The Magna Carta was good for humans - but even better for fish

“All fish-weirs shall be removed from the Thames, the Medway, and throughout the whole of England, except on the sea coast.” 

It may look like a minor clause in one of the greatest historical documents of all time, but the insertion into Magna Carta of this single clause – “All fish-weirs shall be removed from the Thames, the Medway, and throughout the whole of England, except on the sea coast” – had as benevolent an effect as any of its better-known demands.

Up until then, the king’s weirs, while they maximised his own catch, had prevented far too many fish from returning to their spawning grounds upriver, and so had a disastrous impact, especially on salmon populations. Within a few years of Magna Carta the rivers were teeming with life. So much salmon was available that at the height of the season monks at some abbeys begged their abbots for greater variety in the kitchen. Yet increased salmon stocks benefited many abbeys and the fish became an important part of the economy. In 1109, Lenton Priory in Nottingham was granted the right to the first draught of fish from the Chilwell spring each year, a privilege that helped sustain it as one of the richest monastic houses in England.

This all changed with the Industrial Revolution. After a golden age, during which even Henry VIII sacrificed 500 marks of personal income a year in further restrictions on fish weirs, centuries of goodwill towards England’s rivers were overturned in a decade as waterways throughout the land were obstructed and polluted regardless of consequence. Fish populations plummeted and vital food sources were lost in the toxic soup that the salmon now had to navigate (for the mature fish, an exhausting climb to their high spawning grounds and, for the vulnerable smolts, the outward journey back to the sea). From having been so plentiful that a hungry monk could groan at the sight of freshly grilled cutlets, the Atlantic salmon has now joined the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of threatened species.

Now, wild salmon face a new challenge – from other salmon. Or rather, they face a threat that we post-industrial human beings have introduced: the fish farm. Having seen what the Industrial Revolution did to our river life, people have responded by trying to replace fish supplies using industrial methods, creating cramped conditions, leading to heavy infestations of lice, highly distasteful disease-management regimes and, some would argue, considerable cruelty.

It makes no sense: just as it made no sense to pollute our land for the profit of a few back in the 19th century. What does make sense is to work on cleaning up and unblocking our rivers to allow salmon to re-establish themselves, as they have done every time societies allowed them room to grow.

All across the country, local river trusts and national organisations such as Salmon & Trout Conservation UK are working to re-create the healthy salmon stocks these islands once enjoyed, as consumer groups work to shame supermarkets into disclosing the sources of their farmed salmon and pressurise retail outlets to use only those farms that follow best practice. Anyone shopping for fish at such establishments can join in: all it takes is a mobile phone and a list of acceptable sources (S&TC UK offers useful advice on how to get started).

On the other hand, farmed fish will always be farmed fish – all too often a grey, fatty piece of doctored flesh that I wouldn’t want on my table.

So, why not boycott altogether? There are plenty more fish in the sea. But we Brits love our cod, our haddock and, of course, our salmon, no matter how grey; so we want them all the time, no matter the season. In earlier times, with a wider range of seasonal treats to look forward to, things were much better, not only for us, but also for the health of our rivers. 

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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