Living your best life

 Grandpa Frank's Great Big Bucket List by Jenny Pearson (Usborne, 2022)

In Jenny Pearson's latest novel, as with her previous two books, humour gilds a poignant heart. With all the best comedy, the effect of the laughter is often to make the meaning of its intended subject relatable...even manageable. Great horror writers often employ a bleak, ironic kind of humour to intensify but also to soothe the punch the terrors might bring, for example.  Jenny's books have always made me and my class laugh (a lot!) but also provided us with much to discuss and even more to think about deeply. 

Her latest, Grandpa Frank's Great Big Bucket List, is no exception. The vital place of grandparents in children's lives may be the main message that Jenny so beautifully communicates in this book to her readers, but there is also much to be said about the relationships between others: husbands and wives, friends, and most touchingly, I found, fathers and sons. I won't put in any spoilers here, but Jenny has managed with a lightness of touch to say so much about the grown-ups' feelings and to shine a warm, genuine light on the complexities of being grown up. The children who are lucky enough to read this novel will see much in a completely different way when they have heard Grandpa Frank's story.

And there's another story that Jenny has shared, specially for this blog at the start of the tour this week, focusing on her inspiration for the novel. I am delighted to publish it here. 

Inspirational Albert Absalom

I always like to draw from people I know when creating characters and Grandpa Frank is very much a smooshing together of my own Dad, David, who has a similar dry sense of humour and my Grandad Browne, also David. Yes, the family naming tradition the Davenports have in the book comes from my own family’s inability to be creative when it comes to naming offspring. Dad Frank in the story has an interesting employment history, one which is not dissimilar to that of my Grandad, who spent time as a grave digger, a boiler stoker, a roofer, a hospital porter, steel worker, pest controller and ferret keeper, steeple jack, car mechanic and gardener. He always seemed to have something to sell too.

But the idea for the Bucket List actually came to me thanks to a very good friend of mine, who for her Poppa’s 90th Birthday, along with her mum, set him a challenge of 90 things to do when you’re 90. Albert, who was an incredibly active and sharp gentleman (and not at all crochety like Grandpa Frank), continued working as an accountant for my friend loooong after he had retired, and to me is a real inspiration of how to make the most of life.

During the time that he was carrying out his list of challenges, my social media feed would be full of the most joyous pictures of his escapades. He went all over the country flying planes, racing cars, driving tanks, tried his hand at boxing and even took on the role of James Bond! Whenever I saw one of his photos, I felt I was looking at a man living his best life, and this is a message I try and get across in the book. It is never too late to have an adventure. 

Jenny Pearson

And with that inspirational story now in your heart, I couldn't recommend more than to go out and enjoy Grandpa Frank's Great Big Bucket List! Thank you, Jenny, for your lovely words for this blog, and - of course! - for another wonderful book. 

Grandpa Frank's Great Big Bucket List by Jenny Pearson is out on 3rd February 2022. Do support your local independent bookshops where you can! With many thanks to Jenny Pearson and Fritha Lindqvist in the preparation of this blog. Photographs reproduced by permission. 

Agent Moose and Friends!

Agent Moose by Mo O'Hara and Jess Bradley (Scholastic, 2022)

Look out! There's a new Moose in town! 

Agent Moose is a delightful, new graphic novel for younger children - always a good thing, on both counts! - and I've had the pleasure to be asked to interview its author, Mo O'Hara, to celebrate the publication of the book. 

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I am SO delighted to read a graphic novel that is aimed at younger readers. I just know books like Agent Moose will be widely enjoyed and pave the way to explore graphic novels as they grow up too. The bright colourful pictures and engaging characters really pop out at the reader. But you don't hold back with the complexity of the vocabulary or the humour. How do you see the connections between the written text and the pictures? What do you want your readers to remember and enjoy about the written side of the graphic novel?

I love the fact that you can be a bit more daring with vocabulary choice in a graphic novel than in a chapter book, because kids can glean the meaning of the word through the pictures as well as the context of the surrounding text. Graphic novels are a fantastic way of expanding kids’ vocabulary actually. I think what I want the reader to remember is the voice of the characters. I want the dialogue to be authentic to each individual character so that you can tell that that is an Owlfred line or an Anonymoose line straight away. And I want them to find it funny.

Character really shines through in the book. What makes a great character in a graphic novel?

I think with a graphic novel or with any book you have to really care about a character to want to spend that much time in their head or sitting on their virtual shoulder. Connection with a character is vital for me. All authors and illustrators start their books differently but, for me, it starts with the character. Anonymoose came to me first as an idea and then I built the world, the situations, and the other characters around him. Actually, although Agent Moose came first and very clear in his voice, Owlfred followed along very quickly. Seeing them as a double act really cemented the way that I envisioned the story.

Who is your favourite character in Agent Moose?
I think my favourite character is actually Owlfred. Anonymoose is great. I mean he is a 7-

foot furry moose who is a master of disguise- what’s not to love? But Owlfred brings real heart to the books. He’s an ordinary owl who doesn’t have a superpower, yet he steps up anyway. He uses his brain and his reluctant bravery to get out of tricky situations and he notices things. He is a classic detective who never misses a clue.

Why does Agent Moose work specifically so well as a graphic novel, rather than a standard novel? What drew you to the form for this book?

I think it works because a moose dressing up as a palm tree or a DaVinci painting is just intrinsically funny. We want to see it. There is so much opportunity for visual humour in the story and in the characters. It also works because of Jess Bradley’s amazing illustrations. Every time I get to see a new section that she has drawn there is something fresh that will crack me up.

I was drawn to graphic novels for a couple reasons. I loved comics as a kid. My brother collected comics, so I was literally surrounded by them from an early age. I didn’t read any graphic novels myself until about 10 years ago though. I came across some fantastic storytelling in that form. I used to be an actor before I was a writer, so I’ve always liked visual storytelling. Graphic novels seemed to have this filmic quality to them. They were the perfect combination of visual and written storytelling.

Many graphic novels draw on filmic technique, though in Agent Moose I thought this was particularly strong (such as the cut at the end of Chapter 3 going into Chapter 4!) Did you consciously think visually when you created the narrative?

Thanks. I definitely see the story in a storyboard format as I’m writing it now. I do that with all my writing actually. I think in scenes rather than chapters. For the Agent Moose books though we came up with some clear and consistent ways of showing the story unfold in a very cinematic way. There are establishing shots at the start of each chapter. Sometimes they are a reveal like in the one you describe. There are overhead shots and tight close ups. Graphic novels really reflect cinema and use a lot of similar techniques. But there are also little quirky things that you can do in a graphic novel that you couldn’t necessarily do in a movie like the little boxes in the corner of a frame saying, ‘grinding teeth’ and pointing to Agent Moose’s teeth when he is frustrated or ‘gloating smile’ when Camo thinks he has won. Jess is a master of the visual quirky comic aside.

Can you tell us more about your creative process for Agent Moose? How did the collaborative effort work? How was it different from writing a traditional novel for children?

I set out to write the first script for Agent Moose (and it is called a script for a graphic novel rather than a manuscript) with three things in mind. I wanted it to be like a buddy movie between Agent Moose and Owlfred. I wanted to have a world that was funny but warm hearted, with lots of eccentric supporting characters. And I wanted it to be a proper mystery where you had to follow clues and didn’t quite know the pay off until the end. I went through a few drafts on my own and then showed it to my Agent who showed it to my editor. Then we started working on the script to make it as good as it could be and to really optimise the potential for visual humour. Then it was ready to send to Jess to start to illustrate. Jess had done character drawings already that were fantastic, so she had a great line on who these characters were already. Then the book started to take shape. The art director and Jess honed the drawings and the editor, and I worked on the script more and more. Each aspect fed off each other. I put in lines because of something Jess drew, and we cut things that were unnecessary because the illustrations conveyed the meaning.

Writing any book is more collaborative than most people think, but writing a graphic novel is very collaborative. I learned so much from working with the team that put this book together. And I can’t wait to share Agent Moose -Moose on a Mission with you this summer. Once we had book one under our belts it was even more fun to create book two. We really got to explore the characters and go wild with the disguises. Watch this space.

Thanks so much, Ben, for all your insightful questions. It’s been great doing this interview.

An absolute pleasure, Mo! Hope to see more from the Agent Moose gang very soon!

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Agent Moose by Mo O’Hara and Jess Bradley is out now!

#JanMARKuary 2022

Handles by Jan Mark (Puffin, 1985)

#JanMARKuary has, in my mind, become a fixed part of my annual reading as it now enters its third year of existence. I'm delighted to see others join in reading the work and celebrating the legacy of Jan Mark  - their posts and the communal sense of joy in reading is a bright spark during the grimmest month. Many thanks especially to Beth and Roy for their regular involvement and enthusiasm, and of course to Jon Appleton whose knowledge about and encouragement of 'all things Jan' is always warmly appreciated. 

For #JanMARKuary 2022, I have chosen to read a chapter a day of Handles and record random thoughts here in my blog. There probably will be spoilers. There probably won't be many logical lines of thinking. I just want take this chance to record the honest reading of a book by an author I've grown to love.

Jon's exemplary website dedicated to Jan has the details of the book and a few words from the author herself (https://janmark.net/handles-2/); it also includes a link to a blog by Paul May (https://awfullybigblogadventure.blogspot.com/2018/12/jan-marks-norfolk-by-paul-may.html). I try not to 'prep' my reading with too much background information but these two short articles have pointed to a number of 'fingerprints' that I've noticed before in JM's writing: dialogue, a sense of place, real characters. It will be fun to reacquaint myself with that particular voice once more!

As I set out to begin Chapter 1 today, Saturday 7th January, I open my rather battered second-hand paperback copy of the book and glance at the page where Jan signed the book to an unknown-to-me 'Richard'. Her signature is a swirling scribble of biro-ink that despite its potent energy manages at the same time a kind of controlled elegance. One day in September 1985 she held this very book, I think, and suddenly there it is again, just as she manages to do with the words she writes: that genuine connection with her reader.

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Chapter 1

Straight away we are complicit with Erica. We know the city well ('No, that's the cathedral. This is St Peter Mancroft'). That sense of place again, just a few sketched pencil lines. The town immediately comes to life with its motor-cycle-parks and Castle.

Later, the comfortable strains of family life familiar from other JM stories - Erica's sad feelings about her older brother going away with his friend; mum's clear-as-day wish to have a bit of time to herself during the holidays - but also the deep affection for her characters. Craig, with his awkward height, his desire to become a nurse, despite his father's expected disapproval, and his letting Erica in on mum's secret 'treat', is a particularly lovely example already. 

Chapter 2

The bus journey to Aunt Joan's is a wonderful stream-of-consciousness - the lazy ticking off of the landmarks on her mother's directions, the surnames of the Apostles, the 'uncooked jam tart' likeness of the stop button - making time warp and slow down, just as it does in the feel of travelling from the city out to the rural landscapes of Norfolk. 

JM's wit is embodied in Erica's shrewd observations of Joan and particularly Robert. The visual joke of Mrs Ames quaint little country-fair stall festooned with corn dollies, lavender bags and the Heath-Robinson rat traps is very, very funny indeed and says more about this place than any amount of straight description ever could. 

Chapter 3 

A loving and intensely detailed description of the garden and its (seemingly) abundant flora brings JM's non-fiction picture book This Bowl of Earth, and her own passion for gardening, very strongly to mind. The comedy (that must seem deadly serious to Robert's father) of firing off his rifle at the predatory peacock is brilliantly judged.  

Chapter 4

One of the things I really do love about JM's writing is its macabre quality. She wrote supernatural stories of course, but even those aren't necessarily filled with ghosts of the traditional variety. I am reminded of this reading Chapter 4 today. The weird, witchy touch is there with daydreams of invasive tendrils, fantastic peacocks 'bestride a lightning bolt' (impeccable, inimitable phrase!) and snorting, piggish marrows; there in spades in the description of the freakish moving potplants! JM really does see the extraordinary in the very everyday ordinary. 

 

Chapter 5

When Erica arrives at Elsie's to deliver the letter, there's a noticeable bringing together of two of her interests we have learned about so far in the novel. Her fascination with mechanical stuff, especially bikes, has been evident already; but so too has her care of the garden produce, whether she is consciously aware of her flickering interest in working the land or not. The spots of motor oil are likened to the camoflage used to disguise soldiers 'as plants'. Her bike feels 'more like a cow than ever'. And my favourite of all, the compressor that looks like 'an armoured wheelbarrow for use by entrenched gardeners who had to weed under fire'. 

Chapter 6

Occasionally, in reading, I come across a line or phrase where I think 'Why is that there?'. With a writer as meticulous as Jan Mark, I especially wonder that sort thing when the words are seemingly redundant, there for no real reason. But of course they have been chosen to remain, after all the edits. Today I think this when it is mentioned that Erica would choose to have a white telephone if she were ever to own a mechanic shop. What's that doing there? I don't know...but it feels perfect. 

Chapter 7

JM manages to do so much with so few words. In this chapter there is one paragraph where Robert is rude to Erica and his lip curls like 'a bit of bacon, curling up under the grill'. The simile is crammed with meaning and visual impact, but its the cool continuation of Erica's letter-writing, to finish the paragraph, that packs the greatest punch. 

Chapter 8

There's a rather strange sense of stalling in this chapter. The fact that little happens is neither here nor there in JM - as with Virginia Woolf, Mark knows exactly what she is doing and I would always put my trust in both writers. But the feeling is odd,  the dullness of routine, beautifully described...

Chapter 9

Marrows crop up at the start of the chapter and with the chapter heading illustrations by David Parkins, the same artist who illustrated Nothing to be Afraid of, I am reminded of that fine, weird story in there, Marrow Hill.  

I'm struck again by the many images of green in this book; when I think of Norfolk, it's the wide blue skies and endless sandy grain of the beaches, but this colour lends a freshness. Perhaps in the same way, Erica does too, just as Flora Poste brings a reviving blast to Cold Comfort Farm. 

Chapter 10

As the group of mechanics and bikers and Erica come together, there is a torrent of almost incomprehensible nicknames, slang and verbal jokes. It has a slightly alienating feel to me, as reader. The complicity with Erica that I noted at the start of the book isn't present; she has changed, grown. But I'm not in on the 'handles'. 

Chapter 11

Robert and Aunt Jean have become Dickensian caricatures now that the 'real' characters at the motor-yard have grown. Grubbing over the money - threepence! - Robert is particularly amusing, though the tureen of swede and boiled marrows ends that scene with a flourish of brilliant irony. 

Elsie mentions green and how it was so rare for him to see it growing up.  Also there is the 'double conversation' about inscribing on marrows (the green, natural world) while Bunny, Elsie and Erica discuss the tinkering with the motorbike (the oily, mechanical world). An interesting comparison to that noticed earlier.

Chapter 12

A warm bit of 'old-skool' nostalgia spread through me reading about Elsie's youthful experiences in his teaching job. The Head's charmingly gruff 'appointment' where he hasn't a clue who he is talking to - or why - is very funny. 

Chapter 13

There is much said-but-unsaid in this chapter about Erica's private world. When Mr Bowen (Arrow) disapprovingly picks up on his 'handle', Erica realises 'some handles [are] not for public use'. Elsie's workshop later becomes the centre of over-elaborate excuses about stamps, envelopes and letters, far out of proportion to what they should be. But JM shows us a girl finding herself; Erica has now seen beyond her mum's irritatingly slack grammar and Aunt Joan's self-righteous household. She is prepared to do anything to keep exploring this world of her very own. 

Chapter 14

"She was only a name. She had no handle."

These two sentences point to a deeper level of personal realisation for Erica: there is a difference between a name and who you are. As she stands on the very line between childish anonymity and adult complexity, her frustrations are profoundly felt. 

Chapter 15

Unless I've missed a specific statement of Elsie's age, I've worked out he must be in his late-twenties or early thirties. (Bunny earlier mentioned that twenty years on from the marrow-inscribing at school, Elsie hasn't changed much!) So, in this chapter, the intent discussion about plagues and occurrences (which excludes Bunny) has made me think more about the relationship between Erica and Elsie. He is slightly too 'young' in outlook to be a father-figure but slightly too 'old' to be a kind of brother (and I don't mean age-wise in either case); yet it is these two almost wholly absent members of her family that are brought to mind. Erica isn't missing home and I'm reflecting now on what Elsie brings to her life that is a gap (or two gaps) elsewhere.

And - once again - more green alongside the mechanical: frogs invade the workshop. 

Chapter 16

The reason for the title of the book is becoming gradually clearer - the outward appearances that disguise the real truth; the masks we wear to hide ourselves from others; the personal revelations and re-makings we each go through. In the chapter that ends with Erica noticing the summer coming to a close, the scales fall from her eyes: she is not the same girl she was, nor will be again, and 'no one [has] handles any more'.

Chapter 17

So the marrows ripen fully and, along with a death, there is an autumnal feel to the end of this chapter. I'm reminded of Cold Comfort Farm again in Erica's final reflection: despite all the criticism she knows deep down she has done the right thing. What's worth doing is not necessarily ever easy. 

Chapter 18

The Eroica reference here is apt: groundbreaking music, a symphony turning its back on the status quo, a composer unafraid to shake things up more than a bit. 

But the weight of that handle, that allusion, feels as though it has come too late. This last chapter is sad and almost painfully awkward, with most things seen through glass and odd angles. In my mind, I watch the bus leave Polthorpe Street. There's no answers here, just glimmers of things to come. 

 

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Jan Mark's Handles was published in 1983 and won the Carnegie Award. It is currently - inexplicably - out of print.