Candy and Ginger

I am 'the child that books made', to quote Francis Spufford. And before I could read, there were picture books, with few words. This is the endpaper of one of my early books, complete with psychedelic illustrations. The book is 'Candy and Ginger' by Gwyneth Mamlok, and is a story about overcoming initial dislikes and learning to make friends. The girl is Candy, the boy Ginger, but you probably guessed that!

The reason for blipping this is that I had to do quick a photo shoot under the kitchen lights, before going to work, and then straight to West Wales. It was a busy day at work because of Children in Need and photographers being in school, and CleanSteve had to help me drop off some books for an exhibition. It's called The Book: a Celebration, (see here) and I am going to paste in the notes about My Ten Favourite Books that will appear in the catalogue that accompanies the exhibition.

As it's now Sunday night, I hope you all had a good weekend!

I know not everyone will want to read the rest, but I am posting this for Paula J, and TMLHereandThere, and all the other children that books made. You can find out more about the exhibition here. It's the follow up to a smaller, but similar exhibition held in 2002. As I had already chosen ten books in 2002, I felt obliged to choose ten different books that I actually own and can display, but chose childhood as the over-arching theme.


My ten favourite books

... I have restricted myself this time to time/dream/supernatural travel themed books, and illustrated books given to me by my godfather. This means they are all children's books, for it was in childhood that I fell in love with books.

time/dream/supernatural travel themed books

A traveller in time by Alison Uttley
Illustrated by Faith Jaques

The edition I first read was by Faber, with handsome cross hatched illustrations, and pages that were falling out and frequently got jumbled. A well loved copy! This rather smaller one seems to have been eaten by something that likes books. I am sorry not to have the Faber edition.

The story centres on Penelope, a 20th century child who visits her aunt's farmhouse in Derbyshire and finds that she can travel back in time to the Elizabethan era. She overhears conversations that suggest that her relatives are part of the plot to put Mary Queen of Scots on the English throne. However, it was never the plot that interested me, then or now: it was the descriptions of life in the sixteenth century. This one is taken from Chapter six:

"There was a ham baked in honey syrup and spiked with cloves. and brawn and pigs' pettitoes soused, and tansy puddings."

"When I had finished my task the table was cleared and scrubbed and the servants' dinner was set, with pewter plated and a horn-handled knife apiece, and a polished drinking-horn for the small ale and cider. I looked around for the forks but saw none, and Aunt Cicely was surprised at my inquiry. Mistress Babington had a silver fork and so had Master Anthony, but we used our fingers, and so did Master Francis. What were fingers given to us for, she asked, if not for eating? Forks were a newfangled habit from the Italians, and not for honest Englishmen."




The Children of Green Knowe by Lucy M Boston
Illustrated by Peter Boston

I first read this when I wast welve, during a flu epidemic. Someone of my age lent it to me, and it took away all the frustration of being confined to bed.It's about a boy called Tolly, who goes to stay with his rather unusual grandmother, at a house in East Anglia that is far from ordinary. Tolly is lonely, but he comes to realise that other children live at the house too, who also lived there centuries before him. There is an ancient wrongdoing, a battle between the forces of good and evil, and a Christmas resolution: all the ingredients needed for a winter reading. Best of all, this is number one in a series of six Green Knowe stories.

Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce
Illustrated by Susan Einzig

When the clock strikes thirteen, the door to the garden opens...

This was read to my class when I was ten, and was the best thing about my first year at That School. It is one of those books that has the power to utterly transport the reader. I never quite forgot it, but approximately thirty years later, I found a copy in my mother's house, and began re-re reading it. The power of the storytelling still shone out of it. No wonder it won the Carnegie medal! A film has been made, but it's not nearly as good as the book.

Tom is a lonely boy ( bit of a theme developing here...) who is sent to stay with relatives in East Anglia because of family illness. One night, as he lies in bed, he hears the clock strike thirteen. He tiptoes out of bed, down the stairs, and opens the door to a garden. There he finds a girl named Hattie, a bit older than him, and together they embark on various adventures, though only by night. In the garden it is always daylight, and the season vary, as do the ages of Hattie and the other children seen from time to time.

Just who is Hattie, and why are the events so muddled up in time? Can Tom find a way to understand the mystery of the house, the garden, and Hattie? Can he be happy without them? Read on...

It was the descriptions of the garden that sold me this book, and the suspense of not knowing what the next night would bring. A classic among classics.


The cuckoo clock by Mrs Molesworth
Illustrated by EH Shephard

Now this is an odd one! I used to stay with my granny every year, and she had a cuckoo clock. And she, or my mother, read us this book. It is rather Victorian and moralistic, but the colour plates by EH Shephard are beautiful, and I can still remember whole sections of it.

The plot, which is looking rather familiar, goes as follows: a child ( a girl called Griselda this time) is removed from her home environment, and goes to stay with some older aunts. She is rather unhappy until she meets the cuckoo from the cuckoo clock, and they share some journeys into other worlds The adventure in Butterfly-land is my favourite. Needless to say, the aunts never suspect a thing, though they do worry about Griselda's health or her imagination!

I was read to from this edition. This copy is one I picked up in Stroud's Shambles market, but is identical to the one of my childhood.


Marianne Dreams by Catherine Stor
Illustrated by Marjorie-Ann Watts

As a child, I read Robin by Catherine Storr, and Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf, but I think I only found out about this title through the internet, a few years ago. It follows the same pattern as all of the above:

A girl named Marianne, unable to attend school because of illness, is visited by a governess (this was written in the 1950s). She begins to ask questions about the governess' other charge, a boy named Mark, and is disturbed to find that he is sicker than she is. She also begins to draw, with a special pencil, and draws a house. Later, in her dreams, she visits the house she has drawn, and finds that Mark is there. but he cannot move easily, for in the drawing she has created a face and torso at a window, without a whole body. Thus the Mark that she meets has no functioning legs.

This is a moving study of friendship, and attitudes towards disability, and adolescent sensibilities. Danger is present, and is eventually overcome, but the ending is ambiguous. A film has also been made of this, entitled Paperhouse. it's well worth a watch, though very 80s in feel, while the book is mo re 1950s. It is more suitable for older children than any of my other choices. I'd have devoured it at nine or ten, but i wouldn't have understood it emotionally.

This is one book I won't be letting go of. This copy is going to stay with me, unlike all of the above, which are replacement copies. The blue of the cover appeals to me, and the fact that is is still quite new, and does not smell musty!


Five illustrated books given to me by my godfather

My godfather lived in Dublin, and was called Dermot Murragh. He was apparently a family friend, though I cannot recall ever meeting him, so he can't have been close . Where he came up trumps, though, was that every Christmas, he'd send me, via Brown Thomas, the department store in Dublin, a brown-paper-parcelled hardback book all of my own! For a girl in a family of six, this was luxury, and made me the envy of my brothers and sisters. How could he have known that this was the best present for a child like me? Maybe he'd had a good godparent, too. This is my acknowledgement to him.


Candy and Ginger by Gwyneth Mamlok
Illustrated by the author ?

This is a simple story about likes and dislikes, and overcoming barriers to friendship. Girl and boy meet, at first mistrust each other, but through the agency of parents, teacher and pets, they eventually become friends. The words aren't that important: the illustrations vibrate with zinging colours and vivid depictions of mood and emotion. Published 1965, this must have been one of the first books my godfather sent me.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl
Illustrated by Faith Jaques

This is a book that needs no explanation of its contents. It is so well known that I am not going to even try and explain the story, beyond: a boy and his grandfather visit a wonderful chocolate factory as part of a group, but a surprise is in store for each of the visitors.

Looking back, I was a bit scared of the cover of this book, but when it was read to me by my mother, I was hooked into the search for the Golden Ticket. The tour of the factory was frightening, too, but I could see how the children with all their foibles deserved the mishaps that befell them. I cannot now think of the book without confusing it with the first film version, and the second book Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, but I think I saw it as an example of the principles of alchemy of cookery: how base materials are turned to gold, or, in this case, sweets with magical properties. HANDLE WITH CARE.


The Twenty-Seventh Annual African Hippopotamus Race by Morris Lurie
Illustrated by Richard Sawers

This is the tale of a hippopotamus called Edward who dreams of winning a swimming race. It is a full length or 'chapter book' and I think I was puzzled when I received it, thinking that Africa and swimming hippos were out of my league. Again, being read to brought the story to life, as did the fantastic 60s illustrations. I ask myself now, Where Would I have been without my mother to read me all these stories?

I remember most vividly the sections in which Edward is coached by his grandfather, who rides up and down the river bank on a bicycle, bellowing instructions through a megaphone.


Hilda Boswell's Treasury of Children's Stories,
Personally selected and illustrated by Hilda Boswell

Where to begin with this one? I chose it in 2002 as well, and hand on heart, I cannot confirm that it was given to me by my godfather. But it is too important to leave out.

We had books of fairy tales aplenty, but it is the colour illustrations and the variety of stories here that make it special. One of my childhood favourite stories here was Our Field, a story of children left to their own devices in a natural environment, as was the case when we were growing up. The forest of Barcaldine was our playground, or the Wild Patch in Dublin. As an adult I favour Through the Fire, for it speaks of personal transformation. My brother was terrified of the illustrations of Pinkel and the Witch, and I cannot look at it without shuddering slightly.

The gift of this book is that it leads to further reading; here I was introduced to the work of OScar Wilde, E B White, CS Lewis, Mrs Ewing, Charles Dickens and Charles Kingsley, to name just a few. The book was patched up for me by Janet, a friend, 22 years ago, which is why it still has its spine.

The Little Broomstick by Mary Stewart
Illustrated By Shirley Hughes

I'm not quite sure that I understood this when it was given to me. Later, I enjoyed Mary Stewart's romances for adults, and her Arthurian Trilogy, but this one sat around for decades until, a few years ago, I decided to re-read it, and found it wickedly funny. It's the story of Mary, a girl who, all alone again, is staying with her great-aunt. Circumstances lead her to discover a wood; a black cat; and a broomstick. Mary encounters some fairly incompetent witches at the Academy, so the effect is comic rather than truly scary. If this sounds familiar, remember that in 1971, when this was published, there was not yet a Worst Witch, and Harry Potter had never even been heard of!