The Romance of Certain Old Books

I've never liked the heat. Whilst I love the sunny days of summer (and especially its beautiful evenings), I'm not one for 'going out in the midday sun' (Englishman though I am) in the hope of a tan. 

But a recent tweet from Mat Tobin, accompanied by a photo of a clearly much-loved and vintage Ursula le Guin, made me think about just how much I do, however, love the tanned pages of an old book: the papery dustiness of a volume that has sat on a shelf for years, but that once upon a time had been taken down and read and re-read, squashed into a bag, lost on a train, sat on a cafeteria table, or all of these and more, is irresistibly redolent of a romantic past. 

This summer, I will be sharing photos of and reflections on certain old books from my collection that I genuinely love (#SummerOfOldBooks). Why there is such an affection for them, I shall have to see, because in most cases I really don't know what makes these things, tired and tattered as they are, so special. And whilst this task, born on impulse seeing that le Guin paperback, is perhaps pointless, likely quixotic, and most certainly odd, I hope that it may fruit something of why I am a reader. 

Maybe. 

***

Day 1: Union Street by Charles Causley (publ. Rupert Hart Davis, 3rd impression, 1960)

Only the spine is tanned. The rest of this slim volume is in good condition considering its sixty-two-year vintage. Edith Sitwell's introduction starts ominously: 'Re-reading the other day the sermons of Jeremy Taylor [...]'. She then goes on to make connections between CC and Goethe, Graves, Clare, W.P. Ker - all rather portentous - though her final comment on how CC's poems in the collection have 'budded into the light' is (finally) spot on. 

I've known Causley's poetry since I was young and it remains special to me because for all its simplicity, I cannot fully grasp it. It is ghostly and elusive, a private world that speaks to us all. 

Day 2: The Woman in Black by Susan Hill, illustrated by John Lawrence (Hamish Hamilton, 1st edition, 1983)

The first of what will undoubtedly be a fair few volumes of supernatural fiction appearing here. This is an Ex Libris edition complete with tatty dustjacket and multiple stamps throughout. 

When I bought this copy last year, it arrived in the post with a considerable lean to the spine. About twenty years ago, I learnt a trick from a London bookseller to rectify this sad decrepitude and this was the first book I've ever owned in such a state. He told me to read the book backwards. I didn't but, cautiously at first, I opened the book fully a page at a time starting from the back. I did this on every page and when I eventually arrived at the start, the spine had returned to its usual shape, leaving me with a great feeling of satisfaction!  

Whilst I am not a fan of old library editions, the charm of seeing the old return-by slip at the front of the book is compensation for the general grubbiness. The slip has been strongly glued down here, then torn out leaving flakes of a label and two incomplete date stamps from 1986. This gem of a book was withdrawn from circulation and 'SOLD 1/3/01' for just 60p. 

These carefree (sometimes careless) markings of a book's lending library heritage often have a strange storytelling quality of their own. For example, a couple more stamps also appear slap-bang in the middle of John Lawrence's eerie sketch for the frontispiece spread. Mrs Drablow, wandering for eternity, seems unintentionally highlighted amidst the gravestones by a large circular library inkstamp and a second one (ironically) labelling her in large capitals: 'DISCARDED'. 

Day 3: Masquerade by Kit Williams (Jonathan Cape, 1st edition, 1979)

This pseudo 'children's picture book' was infamous in the late seventies. Kit Williams had created a series of pictures (along with a story about the Moon, the Sun and a Hare) holding clues as to the whereabouts of a real 18-carat gold, hare-shaped amulet, which Williams (and Bamber Gascoigne!) had secretly buried somewhere in England. This set off a national craze of amateur sleuthing and literal digging as copies of the book flew off the shelves. 

A documentary about Kit Williams, his art, and the story of the Masquerade phenomenon was made for BBC4 in 2009. Its macabre imagery of dead hares and whining soundtrack feels a bit weird, definitely odd; but then the whole story of the book and the treasure hunt is like that. Even when the amulet was ultimately found, it wasn't entirely by solving the book's puzzles, and how it was done (and the failed, but near-win attempt) is an entertaining tale in its own right.

There are a few others of this kind of book on my shelves - Williams' 'untitled' volume about bees, even a Cadbury's creme egg one! - but none of them match the strangeness of the surreal-folk style of Masquerade - and I have a strong, creeping feeling that that book hasn't yielded all of its secrets quite yet. 

Duck Queen
with Faery Changeling
(in case you were wondering)

Day 4: A Book of Charms and Changelings by Ruth Manning-Sanders (Pan Books, 1974)

The reason for including this one should be obvious from the photograph of the front cover. Nowadays, strangely enough, such macabre taxidermy dress-ups are seemingly absent from children's book design... 

Day 5: A Book of Beasts by T.H. White  (Jonathan Cape, 1954)

My fascination with bestiaries most certainly goes all the way back to when I read Nesbit's The Book of Beasts as a child, and adored the idea of a magical book that would bring the illustrated creatures to life. I've owned a few over the years, but this edition of a medieval Latin manuscript is one that I have held on to, mainly for its stylized illustrations and bizarrely entertaining descriptions. In one passage, for instance, a Cocodrillus' dung is described as being an excellent base for an ointment. 

Day 6: Georgian Poetry Selected and introduced by James Reeves (Penguin, 1962)

This is a lovely volume of poetry. Not all of it is good poetry but the whole book creaks with an autumnal haze, sometimes warm light, sometimes chill mists. There are many of my favourites here, chief among them Walter de la Mare (who will appear later in this blog) and Edward Thomas. 

Two neon-pink sticky labels are still present from when I selected poems to set for a song cycle. One of them made it to the final cut; the other, The Beechwood by Andrew Young, still languishes here. Looking again at the latter poem, I can spot the lines that originally caught my attention and which sum up the whole 'story' of the cycle I eventually wrote: 

And yet I never lose the feeling

That someone close behind is stealing

Or else in front has disappeared;  

I won't remove those sticky labels. They are part of that 'someone close behind'.  

Day 7: The Children of Green Knowe by Lucy M. Boston (Faber, reprint 1956)

When I was a student, I walked into a charity shop one day to find three Faber hardcover editions of Lucy Boston's Green Knowe series - Children, Chimneys, River - in pristine condition. River was a first edition, Chimneys a second and Children, I think, a later reprint but still with Peter Boston's beautiful lino-cut insertions. (I later found out that these illustrations were costly to produce and were dropped in some later reprints). 

The books were priced very cheaply at just a few pounds each but I only had enough to buy two at the time. Not realising the incredible bargain on offer, I left Children, being priced at a pound more than the other two, behind; I thought I would perhaps come back the next day to pick it up. It turned out to be a decision that I sorely regretted. The next day it had (obviously!) gone. 

Over the years, as my collection of all six novels (in first or early editions and with original dustjackets) grew, I realised with a sinking feeling that the first book in the series would always be very difficult to obtain - either copies were extraordinarily expensive or were lacking dustjacket or were tatty beyond repair. I had missed my chance. 

Last year, fortune smiled on me as I found this copy and now, finally, the six books in the series sit together on my shelf. They have a very particular look - papery jackets, a little worn in places, artful spine design - which I love. The stories blur and play with time but, through owning these older editions, I've learned that even the physical objects do that too. 

Day 8: Yum Yum by Janet and Allan Ahlberg (Viking Kestrel, First American edition, 1985) 

I used to have this book as a child but not the copy I now own. This one was found second-hand and, surprisingly, it came nearly complete with all its cut-outs (and a bonus). 

The Ahlbergs understood children's minds and humour in a way that I don't think has ever quite been matched by any other author or illustrator. Their books are always playful and I particularly admire the way they avoid any hint of arch irony that could so easily creep into their narratives. 

The sadly absent
ice-cream sundae

In Yum Yum, each double page spread has a set of two or more cut outs that can be mixed and matched between the slots on the page. So the reader can enjoy swapping the robot's tin-can-and-springs breakfast with the little human's boiled egg. But of course that's the tidy grown-up way of exploring the book. Children swap the foods all over the place so the children's birthday party spread is filled with plates of worms, the dog gets a lime jelly, while a gruesome monster enjoys a box of liquorice-allsorts. 

I am lucky that my copy has all the cut-outs present; all but one - the final page's slot is empty. 'Ice Cream for You' is missing but to compensate, there is an extra birthday cake slotted into the party scene. I like to think that two children both owning the book once decided to swap their cut outs - one preferring ice-cream to cake. Perhaps, out there somewhere, there is another copy of Yum Yum with two sundaes. Maybe it's your own!

Day 9: Best Stories of Church and Clergy ed. by Christopher Bradby & Anne Ridler (Faber, First edition, 1966) 

This book has a good smell. When I open it, the aroma of aged paper, mould and dust that wafts from its pages perfectly befits the subject. It's a comforting scent, similar to the one you experience in an old church, just minus the incense. The peace and calm of sitting in a church is, for me, very much like that to being in a library and the slight fustiness of the stories seems to bring both places together. It's the kind of book that I might find in a holiday cottage and not really read, but which would send me very happily off to sleep. 

Day 10: Two Dozen Rounds of Nature by Peter Crossley-Holland (Alfred Lengnick, 1954)

This tiny little pamphlet is testament to the joy of second-hand book burrowing. 

Looking through boxes and boxes of chipped, tanned (though not in a healthy way), and very flimsy sheet music is probably the worst job to do in a charity or antique shop. Mostly parlour songs and piano miniatures, written by long-forgotten composers from the 1900s, the decaying pages display titles like 'Fruhlingslied' and 'Romance oubliee', and manage to exude a depressing air of melacholy ('Air Melancholique') whatever the weather. The task is often Sisyphean, fruitless and draining, and it is rare indeed that anything of any value is unearthed. 

Yet the odd occasions that do reward this horrible searching are genuinely magical. Peter Crossley-Holland, the father of the more well-known Kevin, was a composer and ethnomusicologist. I have heard his Symphony but nothing else and it's not easy to find anything published. Then along comes this tiny booklet of rounds, amid all the junk, complete with a rather quirky decoration on the front. What are the odds?! 

The music and the words are by the composer and one of the rounds, Riddle, even has a feel of his son's interest in this kind of Saxon word-play! The melodies are simple but don't always go in the direction you think, and the harmonies often clash with a modal dissonance.They don't work played through on the piano. I would like to hear them sung...

Day 11: The House on the Brink by John Gordon (Peacock, 1974)

This paperback edition of an unjustly neglected masterpiece has probably the most stunning cover I know. An ominous black surround frames a window looking out onto an almost surreal  view. The atmosphere created by the scudding clouds and baleful moon is disarming. There is a figure down by that distant shoreline. They seem to have stopped to look back up towards the building in which we stand - why? But it is the strange humanoid obelisk, watching us from its sea-marsh lair, that truly unsettles. 

This is a perfect illustration, one picture evoking the eerie side of 1970s. It encompasses the main supernatural theme of the plot and at the same time manages to instil that sense of dread and weirdness that runs through the whole novel; that same sense that haunts the Ghost Story for Christmas films, the Usborne Ghosts, those Public Information shockers... Nowadays, we seem to have grown out of that psychic horror but, for me, the Haunted Generation in which I grew up lives on every time I return to the world of that cover. 

Day 12: The Picnic and other stories by Walter de la Mare (Faber, 1941)

There must always be a place reserved for de la Mare in my 'old book' treasures. I found this one on the Cambridge market-stall run by Hugh Harding back in the late nineties and indeed picked up a number of early- and even first-editions of de la Mare there over the years. 

This book, I realise now (though not at the time) is unusual for having managed to retain its thin, papery dustjacket after all the years. It seems even to have resisted a toddler's grasp - there is a little amount of crayon marginalia on the inner pages. 

I recall being very happy to find this collection as it was the first I discovered to contain the story Miss Duveen, a sad, even tragic tale that, as is usual with de la Mare, shows us the inner workings of the everyday laced with an atmosphere of very faint but distinct creepiness. 

De la Mare could be, I'm sure, seen as a fey, old-fashioned, nostalgic writer by many. The thing is, he's really not. 

Day 13: Selected Stories by Martin Armstrong (Jonathan Cape, 1951), The Collected Short Stories of Conrad Aiken (Meridian, 1965), Armitage, Armitage Fly Away Home by Joan Aiken (Doubleday, 1968) 

A family collection today (I'm missing a Jane Aiken Hodge, though I once saw one in a Charing Cross Road shop). Joan, is of course, for me, the prize in this trio - the cover is just brilliant! - but she is accompanied here by dad (Conrad) and step-dad (Martin Armstrong). 

Looking at the contents lists, Joan seems to have inherited her dad's penchant for quirky titles (though Joan is always more playful, impeccably so). Some of his  titles here that invite investigation include: Life isn't a Short Story, Bow Down, Isaac! (echoes of Edwardian farce?), and By my Troth, Nerissa! (updated Restoration comedy?). Curiously, the last one in this collection is Fly Away Ladybird, though the story it is a far cry from Joan's Armitage 'ladybird'.

Saving the World

Our Story Starts in Africa by Patrice Lawrence; and Scientists are Saving the World by Saskia Gwinn and Ana Albero (Magic Cat, 2022)

"I want to ensure that every child has the opportunity to see themselves in books and as bookmakers through the plethora of new and exciting voices we have coming out of the UK - to diversify bookshelves so that every child can imagine themselves as writers, illustrators and poets."

-Joseph Coelho

It's been quite some week.

On Monday, Joseph Coelho was crowned Waterstones Children's Laureate 2022-24. Without any doubt at all, this has been one of the most exciting and invigorating appointments to the Laureateship. Coelho's visionary manifesto sets out three fundamentals of the reading life: poetry, libraries and reflecting the lives of our diverse society today - actually, I would go further to say that these are fundamentals of Life, and not just the reading kind. 

I was inspired and uplifted! Then, only a few days later, I watched the unfolding breakdown of the U.K. government with resignations and reshuffles hitting many of the departments responsible for a healthy society. 

But it is Coelho's spirit of hope for children and our future that has consoled me. As a teacher, I take my position in children's lives very seriously indeed. Those who know me well will also know that I read to my classes all the time because it is through books and texts of all kinds, that real change for the better is possible. It's a no-brainer that I'm joining with Coelho and stepping up to support his challenge.

So it was with great delight that this week also included opening a parcel from...

It contained two new books: Our Story Starts in Africa and Scientists are Saving The World. Both books sing the very same song as Coelho. Though their subjects are different the two speak with extraordinary eloquence to every child. They are especially well-suited to younger children and I will emphasise here that quality non-fiction books for the Year 2 - 4 age-bracket (into which both texts fall beautifully) are hard to come by. Not only are the illustrations gorgeous and diversely reflective, the texts inform with the lightest of touch and engage interest. Every child needs to question - they want to! - and I can't think of any child who wouldn't be readily prompted to ask all sorts of things about what these lovely, lovely books are saying to them. 

Patrice Lawrence is well-known for the excellence of her YA writing (Orangeboy, Rat...) but with Our Story Starts In Africa her foray here into picturebook territory is a very welcome one which promises much. Tante Janet tells young Paloma the story of how her family came to the Caribbean, in order to help her understand how she fits into her family, even though she feels left out. Via spreads of brilliant colour and glowing joy superbly illustrated by Jeanetta Gonzales, the unfolding tale touches on warrior queens, storytelling and is not shy to present the abhorrence of the slave trade to a young audience. Lawrence and Gonzales manage this last feat with a breathtaking sensitivity and honesty that I have not seen achieved before in a picture book for younger readers. 

In Scientists are Saving the World, Saskia Gwinn and Ana Albero have gifted us with a book that addresses the future directly by inspiring children everywhere with the world of science. Equally brave as Lawrence's book in its language and selected subject areas, the reader turns each page to discover Arthropodologists, Acoustic Biologists, Robotic Engineers, Meteorologists amongst many other science professionals. Proud of its quirky and passionate tone, the book immediately sets itself apart from the run-of-the-mill, infomative-but-worthy texts aimed at children today by treating their intended audience with palpable respect. The comic-book-influenced illustration is immediate, the text challenging in the very best way; the final main spread presents the best message of all: 'Scientists are like YOU!' In a final flourish, there's a fantastic spread of a range of different scientists and which - like the rest of the book - is presented with diversity very strongly to the fore.

I can't praise these two books more highly and I would urge everyone reading this to check out Magic Cat's website (www.magiccatpublishing.co.uk), not only to get your orders in, but to explore the other wonderful books they have there. 'Every child' keeps getting mentioned, echoing Coelho's call to arms. 

But let's not allow the echo to fade; let's make it a SHOUT! 

***

Scientists are Saving the World was published earlier this week on 7th July. Our Story Starts in Africa is out on August 18th 2022. Please support independent bookshops where you can!

With many thanks to Nicky Potter for help with this blog and to Magic Cat for their inspired publishing.

A Case of Finding Yourself

The Dragon in the Bookshop by Ewa Jozefkowicz (Zephyr, 2022)

Every book by Ewa Jozefkowicz that I've read has always had a surprise for me. I think they are going to go one way, when quite unexpectedly they go and do quite the other! Her new novel, The Dragon in the Bookshop, is no exception. And if you think that this is going to be just another fantasy story, laden with legendary creatures, spells and the evergreen magic of books thrown in for good measure, then think again...and look closer. 

Konrad (Kon) has lost his father who died, suddenly and with little warning, from a heart attack in his own bookshop. The man who was guide and mentor to his son has gone and Kon speaks no more. Then, one day, Kon finds a  very unusual footprint in the rock - lizard? dinosaur?...monster? - and things start to open out from the darkness in which he has found himself. 

Jozefkowicz has an extraordinary power as a writer. Her skill in presenting the difficult complexities of life through the eyes of children and having the remarkable magic of being able to show her readers a hopeful way forward always astonishes me. The writing has a crystal clarity and, most noticeably and importantly, a heartfelt gentleness that in every one of her books has left me changed for the better. What it must be like for children to read her books! 

Early in the novel, one line made me stop reading for a moment: 

You know, everything in nature leaves a little bit of itself behind. It rubs off - quite literally - on the world around it, which means that it's never really quite gone.

Maya, who speaks these words, is talking about bumblebees. But the wisdom and truth and comfort of that statement really did take my breath away. How perfectly put, how simple and clear. And like the fleeting nature of the bumblebee's flight, even the transient lightness of life itself, the words are spoken, the page is read, the message is passed. No dogma, no high-falutin pomp or ceremony. This is what Jozefkowicz does in her books - it really is magical. 

Ewa has written a special piece - very moving and utterly charming in equal measure! - just for the blog today. It explains the origin of the idea for The Dragon in the Bookshop, but also highlights the importance of why we read. It is all about the finding of oneself in those pages. The search may go on for years - maybe never fulfilled - but of course, if you don't find yourself, then you'll find others, hundreds of thousands of others, who have their own joys, sorrows, problems and solutions. In finding them too, and really listening to their stories, then the future is going to be a better place for us all. I repeat and stand amazed again: What it must be like for children to read Ewa's books.

***

Ewa writes: 

The Dragon in the Bookshop is special to me, as the inspiration for it came from my dad who passed away when I was a teenager. He read me many stories and legends and truly ignited my love of reading. One of his favourite things to say before opening a new story was: “Remember Ewa - for every reader there is a character in a book that matches them almost exactly. It’s just a case of finding them. This could be the book!”

I really loved this idea of finding characters who truly resonated with you as a reader – so much so that you could imagine you were them, embarking on a wonderful adventure in a world entirely unknown to you. I admit I still haven’t found my perfect character match. When I was young, I was certain that I was Pippi Longstocking, as she was mischievous just like me – and I was amazed to find out that she slept with her feet on the pillow, like I did! As I grew older, I thought that I could be Mina from David Almond’s Skellig, as I was exactly the kind of person who would be involved with a brilliant, unexpected discovery – I was nosy and knew how to keep a secret.

Since Mina, there have been several close matches, but nobody who is spot on…yet. It’s only a matter of time. And it hasn’t stopped me from encouraging my family and friends to search for their own characters. My twins Julia and Magda, who are currently four, have already started playing their grandfather’s game. Julia is convinced that she’s the eldest of the owl siblings, Sarah, in Owl Babies by Martin Waddell. Magda sees herself as the Bumblebear written by Nadia Shireen. 

It’s a really good way to add another level of excitement to reading, and I always thought this would be a great exercise for teachers to do with their pupils. Which character from any book they’ve read, matches them most closely and why? Watch as a fascinating debate unravels. In fact, on a recent school visit, a boy from Year 6 told me that he most empathises with Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter, who he always thought was a little misunderstood!

***

The Dragon in the Bookshop by Ewa Jozefkowicz (front cover illustration by Katy Riddell) is out on 7th July 2022 and will help promote Grief Encounter (www.griefencounter.org.uk) a wonderful charity that works with children who have lost someone they love.

Grief Encounter have a message for children and young people like Kon. As a charity they work closely with individuals, families, schools and professionals to offer a way through the anxiety, fear and isolation so often caused by the grief of losing someone close.

Grief Encounter provide immediate support with a FREEPHONE Grieftalk helpline 0808 802 0111 open Mon-Fri 9am-9pm, a live chat via their website or support by emailing grieftalk@griefencounter.org.uk.

With huge thanks, as ever, to Ewa Jozefkowicz and Fritha Linqvist for their help and input in the writing of this blog.