Go Set A Watchman

Harper Lee’s long-awaited second novel hit the shelves this July – and it was a literary event like no other. It had been more than fifty years since the publication of the seminal To Kill A Mockingbird, and the hype surrounding Go Set A Watchman certainly felt the burden of this time lapse. Was it worth the wait? Annette Ong reviews the book of the summer for Soapbox.

“You never saw him as a man with a man’s heart, and a man’s failings – I’ll grant you it may have been hard to see, he makes so few mistakes, but he makes ‘em like all of us” – Uncle Jack.

Published decades after To Kill a Mockingbird, reclusive author Lee has released her second novel Go Set A Watchman to much fanfare. The questions circulating the literary community, amongst fans and publishers alike, are: Is it any good? How does it rate in comparison to Mockingbird? Was it worth publishing at this late stage?

To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure. I’m still in two minds. It’s a good read and there is all the evidence of Lee’s trademark wit and intelligence, but does it add anything to the legacy of Mockingbird? Did we “need” this book? I’ll let you decide.

(For those of you who are yet to read it: this review contains spoilers).

Go Set a Watchman is the sequel to Lee’s magnum opus To Kill a Mockingbird. Set 20 years later, it follows a 26-year-old Jean Louise “Scout” Finch, on a holiday back to Maycomb County. Scout has been living independently in New York and is courting her father’s protégé, Henry Clinton. Atticus Finch has arthritis and is being cared for by his sister, Alexandra. Jem, Scout’s beloved brother, has passed away and her childhood friend, Dill, has moved, having never returned after the war. An aged Calpurnia is being cared for by her family.

Scout discovers there have been significant changes in town since she’s been away. Sadly, she finds both her father and Henry are on the Maycomb County Citizens’ Council; in fact, Atticus is on the board of directors and Henry is a fervent member. Her suspicions as to what goes on at these council meetings is first aroused when she finds a racist pamphlet in the family home.

The biggest revelation and perhaps the most unsettling, is that Atticus Finch is a bigot (please say it isn’t so!) Or is he just a product of his time? Or is he infiltrating the enemy camp so he can take them down from the inside? This new information throws Scout into a deep moral turmoil – one which her Uncle Jack helps her to navigate.

Scout is devastated by the fact that she suddenly doesn’t really know her father. Atticus Finch, a highly respected paragon of virtue and decency to her, is perhaps not as progressive and accepting as she once believed. Scout is not “colour blind” as the novel suggests; she sees colour but it doesn’t matter to her and she cannot fathom anyone thinking otherwise.

The novel deviates from the present day to Scout’s memories, but, although entertaining, doesn’t reveal anything new. There are many flashbacks to happier times that don’t really add anything substantial to the plot. However, it is pleasant to revisit old characters again.

Go Set a Watchman will always be preceded by the reputation of Mockingbird. There is no comparison between the two and it is certainly not a blight on Mockingbird at all, though I feel it will leave fans divided as to its relevancy for a long time.

To Kill a Mockingbird

In anticipation of the excitement coming this August, Annette Ong reviews To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee!

“First of all, if you can learn a simple trick Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view; until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” Atticus Finch

Finally I have reached a goal I’ve had for ages: to read To Kill a Mockingbird. Over time, too many people to count have pleaded with me to read the book but, for one reason or another, I’ve always put it off. Now having read it, I can clearly see what all the fuss is about. It is deserving of its Pulitzer Prize and countless literary accolades.

To Kill a Mockingbird is a Southern Gothic, coming-of-age tale by author Harper Lee. It tells the story of Scout Finch, a young girl growing up in Maycomb County, Alabama. Scout and her older brother Jem live with their lawyer father, Atticus Finch. Their mother died early and they are cared for by Atticus and their housemaid Calpurnia. Together, Scout and Jem are joined by Dill, their friend who visits on school holidays; all three get up to all sorts of shenanigans while trying to stave off boredom. The novel is told from Scout’s point of view and offers a combined narrative of her experience; it floats seamlessly between the adult Scout’s memories and the direct experiences of the child Scout.

Scout’s father, Atticus Finch, is a lawyer with a heart. He is defending Tom Robinson; a black man who is charged for committing a crime against a white woman; a crime he did not commit. Most folks in Maycomb County believe this to be an open and shut case; the colour of Robinson’s skin proving his guilt even before the case has gone to trial. Atticus believes in equality, fairness and justice; he does not bow to racial prejudices and refuses to live his life like many in his County. Consequently, he instils these ideals in his children Scout and Jem, who in turn, are incensed by the inequality they witness. Through Atticus they learn compassion, courage and strength.

The novel is autobiographical and based on events in Lee’s childhood. Her father was a lawyer and a similar case was brought before the courts while she was growing up. The character of Dill is loosely based on her close friend and fellow writer, Truman Capote. Growing up together, Capote would spend holidays with Lee consolidating a long-term friendship. While a law student, Lee wrote for literary magazines, however Mockingbird was to be her only published novel; until now, that is.

Go Set a Watchman, the sequel to Mockingbird, is due for release in August 2015. The buzz surrounding the publication of Lee’s second novel (sixty years after her first) has generated intrigue and skepticism amongst her critics and fans. Lee is close to ninety years old and lives in an assisted living facility. There were fears the author was being manipulated into publishing the novel; however, the author herself put these fears to bed in a few private interviews held with those concerned. Those who were fortunate enough to meet with the reclusive author report she is clearly aware of what she is doing. Perhaps this is an indication of how important and influential Mockingbird has become; it is entrenched in the national American psyche as one of their greatest works of literature, how could a sequel possibly compare? Only time will tell.

If the quality of storytelling evident in To Kill a Mockingbird is proof of anything, I suspect Lee will have another bestseller on her hands.

Dualism in literature series: Jekyll & Hyde

In the fourth and last of our “Dualism in literature” series, Annette Ong reviews Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Published in 1886, the novella remains one of the eminent works of the gothic genre.

“I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures… even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.”

We’ve all heard of someone described as having “a Jekyll and Hyde” character, changing at a whim; having, what is commonly referred to as, a “split personality.” Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has made a profound impact, not only on literature but also psychology.

The story, set in Victorian England, tells the troubles of Dr. Henry Jekyll – a well-respected doctor with friends in high places. One night, he decides to experiment with some life-altering drugs. The serious side effect is his transformation, both physically and mentally, into Mr. Edward Hyde – a fiendish man with an unquenchable desire to satisfy his baser instincts.

The story is narrated through lawyer Mr. Utterson, Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Enfield, who are all old associates of Jekyll who become entwined in his sorry story. They witness the extreme changes in Jekyll and worry for his state of mind. Their suspicions centre on Hyde, and they believe he is the instigator of their friend’s troubles. They are unaware that Hyde and Jekyll are one and the same being.

As the story progresses, Jekyll becomes accustomed to transforming into Hyde, so much so that the temptation to morph into his alter-ego becomes overwhelming and he cannot resist. Once an upstanding citizen, Jekyll becomes a harried shadow of himself. He is paranoid, anxious, exhausted and fearful. Hyde, on the other hand, revels in his own despicable behavior, using violence to satiate his evil desires. He rails with impatience and anger at Jekyll’s “humanity” and reasoning, seeing it as weak and futile.

Dualism in human nature has never been so perfectly illustrated as in Jekyll and Hyde. The pressure on Victorian society to “act” in a certain way left many feeling caged and repressed. Jekyll personifies frustration, whereas Hyde personifies liberation. However, Hyde’s freedom comes at a cost. Jekyll’s turmoil is the pull between good and evil. He must crush Hyde if he is to remain a respectable member of society. Jekyll’s dilemma raises the question of which nature to nurture and the consequences of this. Similar in theme to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, it is also a reflection of the battle between science and Christian morality.

The belief that a person’s physical features express their inner character is highlighted in Hyde’s “deformed” image. He is described as “downright detestable” and “displeasing”, and is hated at first sight. Jekyll, on the other hand, is “a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty… with every mark of capacity and kindness.” Supposedly, dual natures have dual appearances as well.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a classic for more reasons than one: it has superb writing, thought-provoking themes and complex characters. It is the perfect exploration of the duality of human nature and the challenges and conflicts it presents.

Dualism in literature series: Coraline

In the third of our “Dualism in literature” series, Annette Ong reviews Neil Gaiman’s Coraline. Published in 2002, the horror/fantasy novella was made into an Oscar-nominated film in 2009.

Coraline sighed. “You really don’t understand, do you? I don’t want whatever I want. Nobody does… what fun would it be if I just got everything I ever wanted? Just like that, and it didn’t mean anything. What then?”

Neil Gaiman called his novel “Coraline” after repeatedly making a typing error, having meant to write “Caroline”. After this continued to happen, he developed this mysterious character and her story slowly emerged. There’s something to be said for the existence of a gift within an error – a dual world, where something first viewed as a mistake is able to produce something good, worthwhile, perhaps better.

Coraline is a modern fairytale, starting on a gloomy winter’s day that sees the protagonist stuck at home and incredibly bored. She decides to explore the house, eventually finding a dead door in the hallway that, as far as she has always known, leads to nowhere. It turns out, however, to be a magical portal into another world, a world that is the opposite of Coraline’s safe, real existence. The other world has talking animals. Coraline’s spinster neighbours, Miss Spink and Miss Forcible are also there, as well as the crazy old man from upstairs and her “other” parents.

Initially, Coraline thinks this ulterior world is charmed and marvellous. It’s certainly much better than the real world, where there’s little to do and her parents are too busy with work to bother with her. Beyond the door, in contrast, Coraline’s “other” mother and father are very attentive to her needs. There’s also the best roast chicken and vegetables for lunch and her bedroom is full of remarkable toys she’s never seen before. However, the more time she spends there, Coraline develops a sense that something sinister and untoward is lurking beneath the veneer. And on returning to normality, she discovers her real parents have gone missing.

Coraline’s “other” mother and father begin to insist she become their daughter. It seems they have little intention of ever letting her go. Suddenly, the ordinary and mundane life Coraline previously despised becomes the life she desires. The moral at the story’s heart is a classic case of “the grass is always greener”;  of getting what we want and then realising it’s not what we thought it would be. Idealising a situation can be detrimental to the real one under your nose.

Gaiman is renowned for the magical element within his novels, and Coraline is no exception. The story is inhabited by talking animals, her “other” parents’ have buttons for eyes and there’s an enchanted stone – one that allows her to see through the illusion and, eventually, free herself.

Coraline is a wonderful story and a beautifully written novel, guaranteed to bring the reader on a fantastic journey into a slightly scary world. Not just for children, it’s a great read for those who enjoy books similar to the Narnia chronicles and Alice in Wonderland.

Dualism in literature series: Dracula

In the second of our “Dualism in literature” series, Annette Ong turns to Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. Published in 1897, the novel is today renowned as one of the seminal works of the Gothic horror genre – perfect for dipping into in this autumnal, dark-night period between Halloween and Bonfire Night.

The Count turned and said in a soft whisper, “Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past.”

Irish author Bram Stoker spent several years researching European folklore for his novel Dracula. Inspired by trips to Whitby, Stoker began piecing together the story of his protagonist Count. It is an epistolary novel – a collection of fictional accounts, news reports, letters, journal entries and ship logs. Perhaps it was Stoker’s experience of working for a newspaper that influenced the method he adopted for telling his gruesome tale.

Dracula is a classic Victorian gothic novel. Scholars spend years researching and dissecting the work as it is a treasure trove of themes – not to mention the evocative writing. No glittering skin, brooding good looks or perfectly coiffed hair here. It’s all blood, horror and evil, or is it? The Victorian preoccupation with the belief that a life of vice (or virtue) will leave an indelible print on a person’s physiognomy strikes at the heart of dualism. Man’s inner world is at the mercy of two dueling natures: good and evil. The outer world exists in contrasts, as in fact most things do, which leads to eternal conflict.

The novel begins as young lawyer Jonathan Harker embarks on a journey to Dracula’s castle to discuss an acquisition of property. The Count wants a home in London, so he can travel freely, acquiring “followers” as he goes. He holds Harker captive for longer than necessary. Harker is engaged to the beautiful, virtuous Mina, and when he finally escapes the castle, he is a changed man.

There are a few nods to popular myths: that vampires don’t care for garlic, crucifixes or sunlight. They do not eat, sleep all day in coffins of cold earth and only a stake through the heart will finish them off for good. Dracula is also a shape-shifter; morphing from man to wolf to bat, whenever he feels the need.

Mina’s best friend Lucy Westenra becomes one of Dracula’s victims, leaving her fiancé Arthur Holmwood to call on the knowledge and expertise of his closest friends (who also happen to be Lucy’s ex-lovers): psychologist Dr. John Seward, American Quincey Morris and none other than Dutch doctor Van Helsing. And so, the hunt for the immortal one begins. A series of experiments and discoveries, including the Count’s seduction of Mina Harker, leads the men into a perplexing “cat and mouse” chase fearing for their lives and their loved ones.

Van Helsing points out that Dracula was once a noble, well-respected Statesman, who did much for his country and colleagues. He was not always damned. Dual natures exist even in those now known as evil and beyond redemption.

In all, Dracula is the king of gothic novels. A real standout, it comprises superb writing and an endlessly fascinating story. The novel invites us to acknowledge that there are things that exist well beyond the perimeters of reality.

Dualism in literature series: Frankenstein

Opposing forces abound in human nature; they conflict and compete for supremacy. Binaries such as good and evil, pleasure and pain, love and hate, success and failure, are common agents of dualism used by authors to highlight relevant social, cultural and political issues.

With this in mind, the next series of book reviews by Annette Ong will focus on the theme of dualism in literature, the first of which is perhaps the most famous of all dualist novels, Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’.

“I am thy creature. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous.”

I find it astounding that Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein when she was just nineteen years old. There is no doubt the novel is a work of literary excellence. It is wonderfully written and well-deserving of all accolades. Unfortunately for Shelley, her career was overshadowed by her illustrious poet husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, whom many at the time regarded as the true author of Frankenstein – a telling reflection, perhaps, of the nineteenth century attitude towards women writers. Nonetheless, Mary Shelley’s novel is a masterpiece and set an impossibly high benchmark for gothic fiction.

The novel chronicles the woeful tale of Victor Frankenstein; a young, curious, ambitious and intelligent man on the cusp of great things. Beginning university to study science, he embarks on a journey of discovery that will ultimately lead to his ruin.

Victor’s creation becomes a diabolical monster: manipulative, evil and physically abhorrent. Simply referred to in the novel as “the fiend” or “the being”, he is cast from his master’s lab almost immediately after he was made, and left to fend for himself in an unforgiving world. He learns to speak and read from observing others. Living a lonely life; he exists on the margins, unseen by humans. Without sacrificing too much of the plot, “the fiend” embarks on a destructive course of evil brought on by harsh ostracism from those whom he desired as companions. Craving acceptance and love, he is denied at every turn. Victor, his creator, whom he refers to as his “master”, experiences the horror of his wrath as he exacts vengeance on Victor’s family and friends.

Shelley’s novel focuses on the dangers of opposing forces and the possible destructive consequences. Frankenstein’s monster is the result of specialised scientific discovery. By combining his knowledge and fervent ambition, Victor is powerful enough to give life. His experiment backfires and haunts him for the rest of his days. There is no comfort for Victor; he is crushed by the weight of guilt and remorse. His personal story comments on the greatness of science versus Christian morality. It begs the question, in the name of science, how far is too far? What are the consequences of playing God?

In “the fiend”, we see the conflict between good and evil. He imagined himself lovable, regardless of his detestable form. Sadly, he was wrong. Judged and excluded, his bitterness grew and violence becomes his way of life. He inflicts pain because he is in pain; however, this was not always the case. He once felt love, generosity and compassion. If he was not initially denied love, there would be no story to tell.

Mary Shelley has written a novel that leaves the reader questioning the capacity for good and evil in human nature. Although goodness reigns triumphant in the end, she allows “evil” a voice, a chance to state its reasons.

The novel is a tale of horror with all the hallmarks of exceptional gothic fiction. It is an intelligent and thought-provoking comment on science, duality, morality and human nature.

 

COMING OF AGE SERIES: Tell The Wolves I’m Home

In the sixth and last of our ‘Coming of Age’ series, Annette Ong reviews Carol Rifka Brunt’s 2012  novel ‘Tell The Wolves I’m Home’. 

“You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.”

Published in 2012, Tell the Wolves I’m Home is the first novel from American writer Carol Rifka Brunt. Although contemporary, it is set in 1980’s New York and deals with the impact of AIDS at a time when it was a lesser-known illness.

As befits the coming-of-age genre, the novel follows 14-year-old June Elbus as she navigates her way through adolescence and some very adult issues. June is a typical misfit teenager; she’s in love with the medieval period, spends hours traipsing through the woods on her own, has few friends and has difficulty fitting in. She’s also in love with her Uncle Finn.

A renowned artist living in New York City, Finn Weiss lives a truly Bohemian life; he paints, he visits galleries and museums, walking the streets at all hours of the day and night. He’s one of the lucky ones who are able to subsist off their art. June visits him regularly and they go on city adventures together. He is the sole person who can make June feel comfortable about being “different” from others her own age.

June lives with her accountant parents (her mother is Finn’s sister) and Greta, her older sister. The story begins with June, Greta and their mother having to travel to see Finn every weekend as he is painting the girls’ portrait. It is the last painting Finn will ever do before his death; reed-thin, with hollowed eyes and a raspy voice, he is a shadow of his former vibrant self. Finn has AIDS – an illness that the Eighties was unable to deal with, due to a severe lack of medical know-how and general awareness. Rifka Brunt has done an incredible job at dealing with the ill-informed messages that filtered through communities, and brilliantly highlights the pervasive prejudice and fear bred from inadequate knowledge of the disease.

Finn’s death brings June to her knees in grief. Becoming increasingly introverted, she escapes to the woods more often. Her fractured relationship with her sister Greta is also on her mind. She misses Finn and yearns for his company and counsel. Upset and confused, Finn’s death uncovers a past she knew little about, and secrets become exposed upon arrival of a stranger.

Toby, a man June has never met before but remembers seeing at Finn’s funeral, makes contact and requests to see her. Without informing her family, June meets with him and spends subsequent weekends visiting him in the city. Toby (Finn’s long-term partner) strikes up a friendship with June and together they help each other heal with their stories of the man they both dearly loved.

A well-written and beautifully executed tale, Tell the Wolves I’m Home is a touching coming-of-age story about painfully discovering the truth and the accompanying freedom that follows.

Coming of Age series: The Outsiders

In the fifth of our ‘Coming of Age’ series, Annette Ong reviews S E Hinton’s 1967  novel ‘The Outsiders’. 

“It wasn’t fair for the Socs to have everything. We were as good as they were; it wasn’t our fault. I couldn’t take it or leave it… I felt the tension growing inside of me and I knew something had to happen or I would explode.”

Ponyboy, Sodapop, Dally, Two-Bit ­– with character names like these you know you’re in for a wild ride. The Outsiders delivers on every front. It’s hard to believe S.E. Hinton wrote this when just fifteen years old. Largely autobiographical (although published as fiction), the books is about Hinton’s experience of high school. Her inspiration came when a friend was beaten up by a group of rich kids while walking home, simply because he was a “Greaser.”

Set in the 1950’s, the novel deals with suburban social inequality; focusing on the escalating tension, anxiety and violence between the two distinct social sets. A clear line is drawn between the “Greasers” (East Side kids: poor, underprivileged and well known to the police for petty crime and getting in fights) and the “Socs” (short term for the “Social Set”: rich West Side kids – troublesome too, but mud doesn’t seem to stick to these kids. Their parents’ bank accounts offer full immunity.

This coming-of-age story is told through Ponyboy Curtis’s eyes. Ponyboy lives with his older brothers, Sodapop and Darry. Their parents died in a car accident, leaving Darry as their guardian. The boys are poor and work hard. They are Greasers and with their close friends, Two Bit, Johnny, Steve and Dally, get up to all kinds of trouble. One night, things go horribly wrong and Ponyboy leaves town with Johnny, the police hot on their trail. In an instant, Ponyboy is faced with a life or death situation that has him questioning the world he lives in.

Ponyboy is not your typical Greaser. He has a higher than average IQ and skipped a grade at school. A reader, he is sensitive and introverted at times. Not a hood, like the Socs believe he is (I don’t know many hoods who can recite Robert Frost from memory, do you?). The story is a great lesson in never judging a book by its cover. It’s wonderfully balanced, as Hinton gives us insight into the Socs world as well; showing the reader that nothing is as flawless as it first appears.

The significance of this novel has strengthened since its first publication. It appears on recommended high school reading lists due to the undeniable truth at its core. Readers have gone so far as to write to Hinton and tell her “this book changed my life” – which is the biggest compliment a writer could ever hope to receive. The book’s success ensured it made it to the silver screen. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola, it starred Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, C.Thomas Howell, Emilio Estevez, Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayze and Ralph Macchio.

Hinton writes without pomp or arrogance; she tells it like it is. There are no quick fixes, no “happily ever after” to the story, but there is hope. It is Ponyboy’s determination to live differently that has readers cheering him on all the way. As Ponyboy seeks out a better way to be, you can hear their collective refrain: “Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.”

Emlyn & the Gremlin

A publication that is on the verge of its release in collaboration with author Steff F. Kneff and illustrator Luke Spooner. Let’s find out a little more about ‘Emlyn and the Gremlin’.

First things first, what is the title of the book?

The title of the book is ‘Emlyn and the Gremlin.’ There were a few ‘should we use the ampersand’ debates between the author and the editor based on which option would be more friendly when it came to people using search engines but that’s how it ended up so that’s how it is. I’m not complaining though because ‘and the’ is far more visually interesting to me and it’s a very little known fact that I can’t physically write an ‘&’ symbol without having my dexterity regress back to that of a two year old with their eyes closed.

 

How did the collaboration with Evolved Publishing come about and how have you felt the process has gone?

Wow, big question… Well the collaboration with Evolved came about mainly through luck – I had recently had two of my own children’s books published by a UK publisher which had also allowed me the ability to finally launch my more ‘child-friendly’ portfolio. This new portfolio, I was hoping, would offer a sort of counter balance to my original, very dark, portfolio that I get the majority of my work through and present me as more of a multi-faceted illustrator rather than just ‘the guy that draws dark stuff’. So off I went, trawling the internet for new, exciting children’s book opportunity, shaking the internet as hard as I could and rummaging through anything and everything that fell into my lap and that’s when I found Evolved Publishing, a publisher that was covering a multitude of genres with what looked to be considerable ease but whom I also noticed had a great catalogue of children’s books as long as your arm.

I initially wasn’t going to get in touch with them because I was afraid of having my humble little, practically new born portfolio, being ripped apart by people with far more experience and credibility in this particular field. So I had a stern talk with myself, covered my eyes and clicked send on an email introducing myself to them and waited, but not for long as they replied, I think, within a day. I didn’t really have time to get seriously worried about what they’d say and I went on to let out a huge sigh of relief when they not only proved themselves to be lovely folks – but also confirmed their interest in me as an illustrator. Obviously I was over the moon but then further down the email they also stated they had a project ready to go that they thought I’d be perfect for.

Everything started happening very quickly after that which in hindsight should’ve been expected given their vast back catalogue – no one gets that sort of portfolio by sitting around twiddling their thumbs all day, but the work pace and load was something I relished because I love having a constant stream of things to do and this project certainly had me covered in that respect. I think what else makes it easier is that the author and I get on like a house on fire – Steff is very open to both suggestion and feedback, easy to contact and is an author and college lecturer in her own right with numerous publications to her name exploring similar issues to those in Emlyn and The Gremlin, so it allows your mind to rest a little easier knowing that if she raises an issue then her point is more than justified by her experience and background.

How would you describe the characters within the book and their story?

The characters of this book are surprisingly varied for a children’s book and aren’t what you’d consider ‘cookie cutter’ models or archetypes. Every one of them has a depth that in turn makes them very interesting but the story is one that most people can relate to on a number of levels. Perhaps what is most unique about this book and its’ characters is also the most understated aspect of the entire narrative: Emlyn is a child from an ‘alternative family lifestyle,’ in this case – she has two mothers, but rather than shove it in a reader’s face and make it the point around which the whole story pivots – the story merely mentions it as a fact relating to the titular character and her back story and carries on.

You often find that when a narrative involves something slightly less common like same sex parenting it becomes so exaggerated that it borders on being a gimmick, and although Steff and I have never openly discussed it – I’m sure she’d agree that when a story reaches that point then it will have lost any sense of meaning or credibility in the eyes of an educated reader and in turn becomes a very shallow portrayal of it’s original message.

 

What can we expect to feel from the book?

Emlyn is a young girl that is essentially convinced that someone or something is sneaking into her room at night and moving her possessions about, playing with her toys and just being a general nuisance. Her parents don’t believe her and seem to chalk it up to kids being kids but despite this she eventually comes to the conclusion that a Gremlin – in this case a small, pixie like being as opposed to the green hellion you see in films and comic books, is the perpetrator and the story goes from there. Just from that simple beginning we have the main character exploring that age old feeling of isolation, the kind that creeps into the hearts and minds of people when they are convinced of a truth that others won’t even entertain, but that is merely a platform from which to jump into the rest of the story.

As the story progresses we explore ‘secrecy,’ ‘friendship,’ ‘forgiveness’ and hopefully by the end – ‘understanding.’ What will hopefully really drive these themes and messages home in a way both children and adults can appreciate is the very ‘Dr. Seuss’ style rhyming pattern, but I guess we’ll have to wait until release to see what people really take away from it.

Where did your inspiration come from when creating and illustrating the publication?

I’ve never actually discussed the inspiration for how I created the characters but it’s a fair question to ask as these characters are clearly different in both style and tone to anything else in my more child friendly portfolio so therefore should have roots in something fairly unique. For this project I watched a lot of Studio Ghibli films, I say ‘watched’ but it was more a case of going back over my personal collection of those films with a huge smile on my face and a sketchbook and pencil in my hands. This studio in particular have a very unique way of showing very grown up problems from a child’s eye view, and aren’t afraid to verge on the fantastical as a way to convey what that child is thinking should the moment call for it. They manage to do all of this whilst at the same time retaining that almost ‘fairytale sheen’ of innocence and imagination which is not only a very tough balance to strike but also hallmark some of the most time honoured stories we tell children today.

 

Emlyn and the Gremlin will be available for you to purchase on the 20th July (oh so close) so make sure you keep a check of the following link online, Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

Coming of Age series: I Capture The Castle

In the fourth of our ‘Coming of Age’ series, Annette Ong reviews Dodie Smith’s 1948  novel ‘I Capture the Castle’. 

“I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. That is, my feet are in it; the rest of me is on the draining board… I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring…”

I share this odd childhood habit with the novel’s heroine Cassandra Mortmain. As a kid, I too used to climb onto the kitchen sink and sit there, just to get a fresh perspective. Another similarity is the love of writing and the endless imagination that goes with it. However, it stops there. Sadly, I do not live, nor have I ever lived, in a crumbling English castle.

Perhaps best known for the internationally renowned The Hundred and One Dalmatians, I Capture the Castle is a novel from  English author Dodie Smith. Written while Dodie was living in California and attempting to forge a career as a playwright, the novel acted as a remedy for her homesickness and longing for England. For this reason, it is the most autobiographical of her novels, and has gone on to inspire readers and writers alike (J K Rowling has listed the book as one of the most influential from her childhood).

Based around the lives of the poverty-stricken Mortmain family, the story is predominantly set in a dilapidated castle in the middle of nowhere. Protagonist Cassandra lives with her sister Rose, her brother Thomas, an old family friend, Stephen, her stepmother Topaz (an artist’s model) and her father, the eccentric writer, James.

In the past, the family survived on their father’s royalties from his one bestselling novel, but the money is dwindling. Unable to afford the rent, and with no income between them, the Mortmains are forced to sell off their furniture and various belongings.

In combination, they function as a quirky Bohemian family: Cassandra writes all day, Topaz runs naked communing with Nature, James sits in the gatehouse stricken with writer’s block and reading detective novels, while Rose mends dresses and Thomas attends the local school.

We meet the Mortmain family as they are introduced to the current heirs to the castle, brothers Simon and Neil Cotton. The arrival of the Cotton family in town begins an exciting new chapter in the Mortmains’ lives. Indeed, things are looking up – but what’s a good story without the obligatory heartache and despair?

Structurally, the novel is set out as three volumes of Cassandra’s private journals. Each event unfolds through the filter of her individual point of view. Due to this first-person account, the story seems very intimate and personal. The reader also witnesses Cassandra “age” in the novel: her thoughts turn from wry observations of her outside world to a profound examination of her inner world. Intelligent, witty, determined and mature, she has a compelling depth of character. Although she is “coming-of-age”, she is wise beyond her seventeen years.

The novel’s themes are equally expansive, and extend far beyond the Austen-esque need for Cassandra and Rose to “marry well” to secure financial stability for their family. Surprisingly, it switches focus to include the predicament of lost creativity (told through James’s struggle to combat a severe case of writer’s block), and also highlights the length an artist is willing to travel to find inspiration – sometimes teetering on the edge of madness. This depth, in addition to the novel’s dry wit, honesty and charm –  told through the delightful narrative of Cassandra – is a pleasure to read at any age.