All aboard!

Peril on the Atlantic by A.M. Howell (Usborne, 2023)

Ann-Marie Howell's latest novel, out in August, is a rollicking who(-nearly-)dunnit set aboard the ocean liner Queen Mary in the 1930s. As always with this writer, it is packed with historical detail par excellence with references to the Titanic, and even a cameo from Fred and Ginger. But, possibly even more importantly to young readers, it is intricately plotted with a final denouement that I really did not see coming. (In fact, I'd already hedged my bets on a different character being revealed in a new light.) Howell does this - mighty successfully, too - every time. 

Ann-Marie's storytelling is old-fashioned in the very best sense, unfailingly warm and cosy; the author doesn't fall for any grand gestures or awkward 'with-it' nods to the 'modern' kid. What she does so well - and what all children love and appreciate - is to tell a magnificent story, and hers are ones that are full of mystery and twists and turns, the ones that keep you guessing and the ones that children year after year have told me they have enjoyed particularly. 

Of course, setting a crime story aboard an ocean liner crossing the Atlantic places Howell's novel in the very best category of "closed room" mystery, a form which has attracted the talents of many a crime writer over the years: there is a limited number of suspects, there's no way out (or off the boat) for anyone until the final docking, and there's that ominous sense of claustrophobia knowing without a doubt that someone you've read about is the one to blame. Christie's Murder on the Orient Express, And then there were none (the plus ne ultra!) and Death on the Nile are not far from the world of the Queen Mary in Howell's novel.

For children, there's an added bonus. It's no secret what makes Enid Blyton so popular with younger readers: it's that 'cosy' security knowing that the mystery will tighten but then unravel towards a satisfying end, the sense of knowing the children-heroes and them becoming your own friends, story after story. And while Howell's books (at least up to now!) have always focused on different characters, there's a connecting thread with boys and girls helping each other in their search for respective solutions. In Peril on the Atlantic, I was most reminded of Blyton's Famous Five - four children and their pet (here Timmy is translated into Rocket, the mouse) - all pulling together, using each other's strengths to foil those dastardly villains! There was even a bit of the old-skool lingo - 'Jolly good!' says Alice at one point. 

But although I'd always praise Howell for the very particular way she embraces these more traditional modes of storytelling, I also love the very gentle nudges towards the needs of modern children. There's often slightly darker currents swirling beneath the 'jolly good'  fun of the surface escapades: in The Garden of Lost Secrets there's the deeply sad sense of being let down - badly - by a loved member of one's own family; and the plot of The House of One Hundred Clocks deals with mental illness and guilt. It is the presence of these currents that add a coloration to the narrative that would never have appeared so explicitly in children's books of an earlier generation, at least not in the Howell context of how children are encouraged to understand, to learn, to accept, to empathise and, most importantly, to adjust and cope with life-truths that might take any of us by surprise, and at any moment. For this, I for one am very glad of the presence of Ann-Marie's books, there to help guide, as well as entertain, the new generation.

Peril on the Atlantic by A.M. Howell is published by Usborne on 3rd August 2023. With many thanks to Fritha Linqvist and Usborne for sending me an early proof copy.

The Named and the Unnamed

Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend (Knights Of, 2023) 

In the nineties, Robin Holloway, a British composer wrote a huge piece for two pianos expanding kaleidoscopically on one of the great cycles of all time, J.S. Bach's "Goldberg" Variations. He wrote: 

[...] the ‘Goldberg’ Variations is one of the supreme monuments by the greatest of all musical constructors. Like a Forth Bridge, like a mighty power station, Bach’s structure is so secure that it can take anything. Or rather, because less subject to change and decay, he resembles a mighty force of nature itself. Yet the actual stuff of his music is infinitely malleable, reproductive, fertile in new growth, perpetually inviting renewed collaboration down the ages.

There are many other works that do a similar thing;  - Mozart has been the launchpad for many reinventions;  Shakespeare perhaps even more so; most recently, even William Blake became the intense spark of inspiration for S.F. Said's magnificent Tyger. In the case of the latter, I asked the question, "Why do we need William Blake today?" in a blog piece to celebrate publication. There are a few suggested answers to my question there, but this 'reinventing' is something artists, musicians, writers and designers continue to do, almost impulsively, and I keep thinking: WHY?

Now, at the heart of her new novel for younger readers, Lizzie Huxley-Jones takes another 'supreme monument', the first branch of The Mabinogion, along with nods to Arthurian and Celtic myth, and re-invents characters, places, animals, monsters and heroes for today's generation. Into their 'Cauldron', Huxley Jones brews a narrative spell from direct legendary cameos, a few modernisations, some decorative embellishments and even some complete transformations.

Here are a few of them you'll encounter in Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend (and I'd very much recommend you heading over to @familybookworms' blog for a more thorough introduction to these creatures)...

Afanc - a monster, rather like an alligator with a thick tail like a beaver's, lurking in Welsh lakes. Legend says that either Sir Peredur or King Arthur were responsible for killing it. 

Gelert - a wolfhound who saved his master's baby children from wolves. Unfortunately when the master returned home, he found Gelert's maw smeared with blood and, misreading what had happened, killed Gelert. Only after killing the dog, did he hear his children gurgling away, safe and sound...and the bloodied corpses of the wolves who Gelert had savaged. In Huxley-Jones' version of him, Gelert is droll, slightly wearied perhaps by a thousand year afterlife, but still as ferociously loyal as ever. 

Nimuë - a powerful faery sorceress, also known by other variant names...including Viviane and 'The Lady of the Lake'. She provided King Arthur with Excalibur. Vivi's pithy description of her is 'floaty but nice'. 

Eirlys - Huxley-Jones uses this Welsh word to name (no spoilers!) a particular pure-white horse in her story . Quite appropriately, the word actually means 'Snowdrop'; but perhaps ironically, the tiny flower has given its name into a steed of enormous size! 

Then, adding a distinctly Welsh folkloric flavour to the mix, and mentioned briefly in Vivi Conway, are: 

The Morgen - water spirits who lured humans to their doom. Similar creatures include the lorelei, mermaids and sirens. 

Coblyn - a Welsh 'goblin', rather like the Knockers of Cornish legend. They help miners to find the veins of precious metals. 

"the warring dragons" and "dormant dragons": These are the famous red and white dragons, their fighting said to represent the disputes between the ancient Britons and Anglo-Saxons respectively. 

"the girl made of flowers": this is Blodeuwedd who was created by the two magicians Math and Gwydion in The Mabinogion. Later in her story she is transformed into an owl. The tension between 'owls' (violence) and 'flowers' (peace) is at the heart of Alan Garner's The Owl Service, an earlier fantasy based on Welsh legend. 

An exciting mix! 

Many of these legends that will be known widely, some more vaguely familiar from other, geographically separate, folklore. Huxley-Jones reveres their source material to such an extent that even their reinvention of it becomes an act of real love: beloved Gelert stands unaltered and his place in the legend as Protector Supreme translates exactly into Vivi's own adventure. That wolfhound can take any amount of 'gilding' (as Holloway said of his treatment of J.S. Bach)!  

But there is one 'Variation' that is very different to the rest: The Coraniaid. In the Mabinogi, the Coranaiad was a race of supernatural creatures whose hearing was so sharp they could apparently hear everything the wind touched, i.e. anything. As a result, they were virtually invincible: logically, they could hear any attackers in good time to make their escape or put up a strong defence. 

The Coraniaid are traditionally more hobgoblin-like, short humanoid in form, perhaps. Huxley-Jones, however, transforms them into something else - they have 'red eyes' and are accompanied by regular references to 'long legs', 'spider-like' movements, and 'scuttling', all of which for me strongly invoke the M.R. Jamesian world of evil. Quite rightly too: Huxley-Jones wants these things to be really scary - the fact for half of the novel, they draw the creatures as though only really seen as though out of the corner of the eye, which is unnerving enough, but they surpass this at one point with their description likening them to a blur, the 'outline pulses like the most twisted toddler's scribble come to life'.

Such are Huxley-Jones' monsters, demonic and persistent in their attacks on the heroes of the book. Appearing almost without notice, disappearing through hidden passageways, they are by far, at least for me, most frightening in that, for a long chunk of the book, they are given no name. (There's a precedent here with another part of The Mabinogion where something reaches its claw out to snatch Teyrnon Twrf Liant's young foals from his stable. We never see the creature, only its claw, and it is known simply as 'The Monster'. Like M.R. James, Huxley-Jones knows that the 'unseen' is where true fear lies, even echoing this moment from The Mabinogion - and its effect - when they write: 'A dark meaty claw reaches around to grab me'...but then nothing more.)

While everything else in Huxley-Jones novel has a name linking it clearly to Welsh folklore, the heroes (and the reader!) must learn what their foes actually are. As we near that revelation, we understand that they have appeared in this world before, and a booklet hidden in the British Library reveals their identity, calling them a 'Plague' (as does The Mabinogion). It is here that young readers will connect most authentically with Huxley-Jones' bringing to new life of old legends. Because those young people, now of an age that the book suits well, know what a Plague is from first-hand experience - they have lived through those Lockdown days; they know the chaos of uncertainty, they know that something without a name is unknown, and the Unknown embodies True Fear. 

Fortunately, those evil things are eventually named (and I am sure many young readers will recognise something about their name...) and - once they have a name - the children-heroes have power over them. 

So finally, returning to that question about why do we need these reimagined worlds and stories, I'd argue that whether it is a keyboard piece by Bach, some poetry by William Blake or, as here, the ancient Welsh legends, such Great Works exist precisely to be reborn over and over again. Today, they peek through the 'gilding' to connect with us. Like Gelert, they are there to protect us (maybe even the title of the Huxley-Jones' book points to this - "legend IS a sword"). Such a book as Vivi Conway speaks directly to the young, that vital audience: the old myths born again once more, guiding strength of purpose, signalling confidence, providing hope. 

And that's, coincidentally, exactly what good books for children should do.

***

Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend by Lizzie Huxley-Jones was published on 1st June 2023 by Knights Of.  With thanks to Courtney Jefferies for providing me with an advance copy and for inviting me on this blog tour. Don't forget to check in with all these other fantastic bloggers, too...!