World Book Day 2012

You're only as happy as your unhappiest child, as the old adage goes. This probably goes some way to explaining why I feel so miserable this evening.

I've had a lovely day. Today is World Book Day, and we have been celebrating in school today, by inviting students to talk about a book they have loved and explain what is good about it. It's been, on the whole, really heart-warming to hear students and staff talk so enthusiastically about books, and lovely to hear them recommending books that their class mates might enjoy.

My good mood evaporated horribly when A came home, and promptly started being vile to us all. This is most unlike her, since she is generally very lovely to be around. Mindful of both my Lenten promise to shout less, and also of the fact that shouting at people doesn't tend to get them to open up to you about their problems, I sat down with her and asked her what the matter was. "My teacher hates me" she sobbed. "What makes you think that?" "She said I could have done neater handwriting on my work." A had translated this as both evidence of hatred of her by the teacher, and also that she can't write, will never be able to write, so what's the point of anything anyway. Oh, and she's never ever going to school again.

I tried to gently suggest that teachers always have to come up with a target for improvement, and perhaps handwriting just happened to be the most obvious one in this instance. Nothing doing. More sobs. We progressed to "everyone hates me". MrM stepped in with a chapter of Harry Potter, which at least slowed the rate of the tears. The power of books.

Deep down, I know we all have to go through these things, and that I will probably remember her sadness for much longer than she does. However, I wonder how many of the kids I teach were given "targets" designed to improve their reading, which actually just led them to feel like failures. The (fortunately minority of) students today who said "I hate reading/books/I can't read/books are boring" were almost certainly using this as a shield to protect them from the hurt of years of struggling. How sad that they should be denied one of life's great pleasures, because of their own perceptions of themselves as readers, which may well have been embedded by well-meaning targets. I can only hope that by providing them with interesting reading material, and continually trying to engage them in meaningful reading activities, it might be possible to ignite a spark somewhere in their hearts that will lead to a love of books.

Hopefully, tomorrow A will be back to her usual sunny self, and I will be able to snap out of this mopey mood. I certainly hope so.

The Highway Rat by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler

The Gruffalo, by the same author and illustrator team, has to be one of the most famous picture books of recent years. It just avoided being the most famous picture book of this century, since it was published in 1999. I think it will almost inevitably become the The Very Hungry Caterpillar for this generation - our children will buy it for their grandchildren, and become nostalgic. Time was, Mr M and I could recite The Gruffalo without looking at the book. We possibly still could if forced to (although why either of us would ever be in that situation, I don't know!)

However Donaldson and Scheffler have collaborated on many other books. Our favourite when the kids were little was Monkey Puzzle, in which a monkey tries to find his mum.

I bought The Highway Rat because I absolutely love the poem "The Highwayman" and thought it might borrow from it. It does, a little, with the repitition, and it is a jolly enough tale. C enjoys the fact that the dastardly rat gets his comeuppance at the end, and he also likes the pictures of the cakes. What's not to love about pictures of cakes?

Biscuit Bear by Mini Grey

I watched a clip of Mini Grey talking about the illustrations to her book Jim last year when it was shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway medal. She seemed like a pleasant, personable lady. However, I think something dark must lie behind this charming demeanour. Biscuit Bear is similar in tone to Jim, and is somewhat macabre. There is a scene of massacre after the dog has been in the kitchen and decimated the biscuit circus. I had to turn the page quite quickly, as C was most upset. In fairness to Grey, the words are quite vague, so I was able to pretend that the biscuits were just slightly dog-eared (excuse the pun), rather than eaten.

However, dark as some of the storylines are, the illustrations are outstanding, as always. Grey is a most fantastically gifted artist. My personal favourite is the oven, which looks just like the one my Nan used to have when I was a little girl.

Penguin by Polly Dunbar

Another of my choices from the picture books section of the library on Saturday. I've seen this book in Waterstones a few times, but, irritatingly, it has never been in The Book People, The Works, or The Red House, hence we do not own it.

The book tells the tale of a boy who is given a toy penguin, and attempts to get it to talk to him. I will not give away the plot but two things are important about it. 1) It is hilarious and 2) it requires a large dose of willing suspension of disbelief. The penguin's face is my favourite thing about the book - it's brilliant.

Highly recommended for toddlers upwards. A greatly enjoyed it, even at the advanced age of 8. I am a great fan of reading "toddler" picture books to older children. Children of this age might well be fantastic readers, but they are still developing their sense of how stories work, and what makes stories funny/sad/exciting and so on. Those who are not fantastic readers can benefit from hearing a parent read the words on the page, which are likely to be large, and match the words to what is being said.

Reading picture books to older children also cements their understanding of what works in stories, and can inform and improve their developing writing skills. Also, importantly, they are comforting and enjoyable, which is not something to be undervalued, particularly at bedtime.

Beast Quest by Adam Blade

It was a bumper evening for reading today. It has been a lovely but very busy weekend, and so bedtime began at 6pm with a bath and then stories in the big bed. First up A had her chapter of Harry Potter. C is really unimpressed by HP so far - he got it in his head that he would not like it, and will not be jollied into listening. We have now decided that when A has her chapter of HP, C will read a Chapter of Beast Quest with Mummy.

We bought the Beast Quest series (well the first 18(!) of them anyway) from The Book People a while ago. C was not really quite ready for them, and so they've been waiting on the shelf for him. We had read the first few chapters of Book 1 (Ferno the Fire Dragon) and tonight we read Chapter 4. I decided to chance my arm and asked C if he wanted to read some of it, so we read a page each and then swapped. He is getting much better at being able to follow the words on the page. I think it is a big step for any beginning reader - going from books with several sentences on the page to a lengthy block of text with relatively small print. He has to follow with his finger, and occasionally gets confused with clauses in some of the longer sentences, but was motivated to continue reading. It would be great if he continues to enjoy the series, since there are plenty more to read!

I am currently reading the Game of Thrones series by George R.R Martin, and really enjoying it. I rarely stray into the world of fantasy fiction, but tend to be glad when I do. I really loved The Assasin's Apprentice trilogy by Robin Hobb, which I read a few years ago on the recommendation of a similarly non-fantasy reading friend. The Beast Quest books strike me as Game of Thrones for small boys. There's something very appealing in the idea of setting out on an epic journey with a job to be done, and C and I are both quite looking forward to finding out what happens to Tom as he goes to do battle with the wizard Malvel. Well, actually, I am more looking forward to finding how Tyrion Lannister gets on as the latest Hand of the King, but I am fairly certain that Game of Thrones is deeply unsuitable for a boy of five...

Monsters: An Owner's Guide by Jonathan Emmett

We visited a library we haven't been to for a few years today, the Central Library in the city where we live. It used to be our local, but since we moved out of the city we have tended to go to the suburban libraries more often.

C was most taken with the Central Library, saying that there were lots more books for him to choose from than usual. He spent a happy half hour sitting cross legged on the floor looking through the books. A was also impressed, and we came out with quite a weighty bag full of books.

I chose from the big book boxes. A and C always claim that they are "for babies" but this does not stop them enjoying the books I sneak into the bag. Today I snuck Monsters: An Owner's Guide by Jonathan Emmett in the bag. A spent the whole journey home sneakily reading in the car, and almost made herself sick. She loved the different names for the monsters, such as "Mr Giggles" and "Beezyblub" and kept saying "Mummy, look at this bit!", which is always the sign of a good book. Luckily she also managed to make it home without a vomit incident on Daddy's red leather upholstery, of which he is quite fond. Bonus.

Mr Wolf's Pancakes

In yesterday's sleepy haze I forgot that we'd also read Mr Wolf's Pancakes by Jan Fearnley, as is traditional for us on Shrove Tuesday. It's a lovely picture book, with lively images and an interesting plot. Mr Wolf has become good, and decides to make everybody pancakes. But nobody will help him. When he eventually struggles through and makes the pancakes, all of his friends come round, wanting to eat some. The first time I read it to A, and asked "What do you think happens next?", she said "Mr Wolf will eat all of the pancakes himself." This is a fair guess, given that's the plot of another story of which she was very fond, the Little Red Hen. However, there's a twist in the tale, which both A and C find hilarious.

It's a great book for talking about the way in which stories interlink with each other, and borrow elements, or make allusions to other stories. What do we expect a wolf to be like? Why do we think like that? What other stories does the wolf appear in? Why is it good to be surprised by a story? Why is good to have stories which are not surprising? Thinking about these things can lead to some interesting discussions about what stories are for.

I think this is why A loves Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes so much, and why I loved it too. It's interesting to be surprised by characters which behave diffrently from the way we expect, or to hear a familiar story turn out differently sometimes.