Fetcher's Song

Tasmanian children's author, Lian Tanner reflects on how a series is born and the sparks that can spur a story into life.

One of the questions I am often asked in schools is where the idea for a book came from. It’s not always an easy question to answer, and Fetcher’s Song (#3 in the Hidden series) is one of the hardest to explain – mainly because it grew out of an odd sentence that was floating in my head when I woke up one morning.

‘It was New Year’s Eve, and the last of the fortune-telling ducks was dead.’

Was it the tail end of a dream? A suppressed longing for waterfowl? Or just a fragment of nonsense from my unconscious mind? I have no idea, but I wrote it down, just in case, in the notebook I keep beside my bed.

In the last six years I’ve written two complete fantasy trilogies, and one of the most important things I’ve learned is that each series comes with its own problems. The greatest problem I faced with The Hidden series was that it wasn’t originally meant to be a series. When I wrote the first book, Ice Breaker, I had in mind a stand-alone novel, and it wasn’t until some time after I’d completed the manuscript and handed it in that I realised I wanted to write more about twelve-year-old Petrel and her world.

That’s when it became a series – with the built-in challenge that I didn’t yet have an overarching idea for the three books. However I realised fairly quickly that I wanted to follow the fortunes of three different children, all of them hiding from the fanatical Anti-Machinists who had taken over the world; all of them bent on protecting a particular type of knowledge.

It seemed to me that most people, if they saw a new Dark Age approaching, would want to save scientific and medical knowledge. That covered the first two books, Ice Breaker and Sunker’s Deep, and the first two children, Petrel and Sharkey. But what about the third child? Who was she, and what on earth was she trying to save?

That’s where the odd sentence came in.

‘Fortune-telling ducks’ sounded to me like a small travelling circus, or a group of entertainers. Once I started developing the idea, the ducks didn’t last long, but the entertainers remained – mainly because one of the things that real-life fanatics like the Taliban and Pol Pot seem to loathe is any sort of frivolity or enjoyment.

So, in my imaginary world, the Anti-Machinists had outlawed songs and stories. And Gwin Fetcher and her family, a small group of travelling players, were trying to keep those things alive.

As Professor Serran Coe says, at the very beginning of Fetcher’s Song, ‘There is history – true history, not the curdled sort the Anti-Machinists want us to teach – and there is science and medicine and the making of machines. But there is another sort of knowledge too, just as valuable. Lin Lin and I are trying to save the mind of the world. You will save its heart.’

Like the first two books in the series, Fetcher’s Song is about friendship, the messiness of life, and those difficult moments when you have to step out of the shadows and stand up for what you believe.

But more than any of those things, it’s about songs and stories, and how important they are to us. Particularly in hard times.

Lian Tanner
Children's author
Website: http://liantanner.com

Facebeook: https://www.facebook.com/LianTannerAuthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liantanner/

Tove Jansson

Patsy Jones recalls the place of the Moomins in children's literature and their return to the book shelves for a new generation of readers to enjoy.

Recently, as I was browsing in one of Hobart’s bookshops, my eye was caught by a name I remembered – Tove Jansson. I remembered her as the author of a series of children’s books about the Moomins, of which my daughter had been a great fan. Somehow or other I had never been captivated by these books as my daughter had, but it seemed as if it was time to consider their impact on a grandmother……

Tove, born in Finland in 1914, lived through two European wars and great changes in her homeland. At the time of her birth the Grand Duchy of Finland was a part of the Russian Empire, but through the twentieth century became an independent nation-state. Tove’s family belonged to the part of the Finnish population that were Swedish-speaking, so her books were first published in Swedish (the Finnish language is linked with the Hungarian language rather than Scandinavian languages).

Tove was highly regarded as a writer, not just in Finland and Scandinavia, but by the world. She was awarded the Hans Christian Andersen Award gold medal for writing in 1966, and in 2004 she featured on the Finnish Children’s Culture commemorative coin.

The first Moomin book was The Moomins and the great flood, published in Swedish in 1945 but only recently published in English. It appears to have the characteristics of many initial books in a series, not enjoying the great popularity of later books about Moomins, most of which were published in English by Puffin, soon after their initial publication in Swedish, and which my daughter read with enthusiasm.

The publisher of this first book, Sort of Books, has also published Sculptor’s daughter: A childhood memoir. This, published in Swedish in 1968, contains several short stories and was written ‘specifically for adults rather than children’ according to the introduction by Ali Smith, and initiated Tove’s move to adult fiction.

Patsy Jones

CBCA(Tas) Treasurer, retired librarian, retired teacher

Editor's note: Tove Jansson is also recognised for her pioneer work as a female comic book artist and a new animation series is on the storyboard.

How do we really know what children want to read?

During my career as a teacher, I have often bought books for my students to read. Yes, the library at school can purchase the books but I have bought them in response to conversations we have had about their book interests and the books stay in our classroom for them to access all the time. I have also bought books knowing that they will only appeal to one or two students and therefore would not be purchased by our library because the material had such a limited audience. So, having bought many books for my students over the years, I would like to think that I have a fairly good idea of children’s reading preferences.

This brings me to the wider question that when a book is being commissioned or published, who decides what children want to read? Is it the publishers in response to the talent of the writers they promote with their preferences for genre and content or the requirement to fulfil a contract with another story? Is it the authors who have children and/or work with children and think they know what will engage a reader or just write about topics that interest them but pitch it at a younger audience? Perhaps it is current events, such as the focus on the Gallipoli centenary last year that led to saturation levels of children’s books on World War 1 being printed? Do teachers and parents make these decisions based on their childhood favourites ensuring ‘Snugglepot and Cuddlepie’ remains in print? Are the interests and needs of readers being directed by everyone except the children themselves?

Last year I had my Year 5 students write a fairy tale for an audience and they chose the Kindergarten students. Despite my suggestions and encouragement to speak to their audience, they wrote away merrily without ever having spoken to a student from their target audience nor did they spend time reading books the Kindergarten students borrowed from the library, so they could develop a picture of their preferences, i.e., get to know their audience.

When they gave me their stories to read I said that before I marked them they needed to do a final edit after reading their story to a Kindergarten student. They did this and the results were illuminating. Rather than the younger students just saying the story the older student read to them was good, they were quite eloquent in what really mattered to them. In fact, one student became so loquacious that the older student had to get a pencil and pad to make notes.

The feedback the Kindergarten students gave to the older authors ranged from: “The story is okay but the sentences are not very interesting.” and “The trees don’t look the same as the story sounds. They need more leaves.” to “I really liked the story but you have too much white on the page around the pictures.” Needless to say, there was much rewriting (and colouring-in) at a frantic pace.

I wonder if my classroom experience mirrors the big, wide world.

Helen Rothwell is a primary school teacher.

Lessons from New Scientist

Recent readings of New Scientist have inspired, and perhaps excused, this week’s blogger Nella, from some reading habits that she connects too.

Lesson One:  The power of stories
“The irresistible lure of the con artist” by Maria Konnikova New Scientist 23 Jan 16 pp28-41

In our social media driven world where personal stories are shared globally, Konnikova considers what drives fraudsters to like at the expense of others. To quote:
“Nothing compels us so receptivity quite like an emotional, relatable narrative.”
“A good story consistently blurs our judgement.”
The article explains how a strong relationship between trust, intelligence, health and happiness is more likely to see someone fall victim to a fraud (e.g. disgraced blogger Belle Gibson). It also explains that the more someone is absorbed in a story, the fewer false notes are noticed. 

Recently I’ve been involved in discussions about specific books. I noticed that I identified more with characters with Greek/Lebanese/Chinese backgrounds than my colleagues. I could admit that reflected my own NESB, but I couldn’t really discern how much that “bias” made me miss any flaws in the writing. A win to “relatable narrative”.

Lesson Two: Willpower “The force of habit” by Teal Burrell New Scientist 16 Jan 16 pp30-34

Burrell argues that you can make a habit of anything if  you leave your brain on autopilot.
“Willpower comes in limited supply, and gets used up during the day.” 

That’s the best excuse I’ve had for purchasing books – willpower quotient for the day had been used up!
Some examples of “depleted willpower” purchasing follow.

Nella Pickup
Reader and book buyer.

“When I Grow Up”: A Review of Matilda: The Musical.

Have you seen Matilda: The Musical? Thank you Lyndon for sharing this wonderful experience with our readers.

Matilda is a pretty weird book. It’s also one of children’s literatures greatest classics, with a brilliant and bold young girl taking on the world as its main character, and written by one of the all-time finest and funniest writers of fiction, Roald Dahl. I love it. But that said, it is quite weird. There is hammer throwing, torture-by-cake and a box of horrors, as well as the very strange addition of telekinesis that on every re-read you almost forget is going to be there.

But of course Matilda isn’t about controlling objects with your mind - it’s about the power of stories. Although Matilda Wormwood is squashed down by almost every adult in her life, she rises through the gifts of reading and discovering. She is raised in a library, not in a house.

These same themes play out in the musical stage production of Matilda that I had the pleasure of seeing at the Sydney Lyric Theatre, with a book by Dennis Kelly and songs by our own lyrically-brain-bending Tim Minchin. The weirdness remains (as it should) and so does the enduring reminder that reading gives us power, as Matilda’s father’s song “Telly” tells the audience that television will provide you with “all you need to fill your muffin, without havin’ to really fink or nuffin” by “watching slightly famous people talkin’ to really famous people,” and Matilda realises in her sublime song “Naughty” that she will not become an “innocent victim” of her own story, and must stand up to the Trunchbull.

The set was an astonishing array of alphabet blocks, into which encroached libraries, loungerooms, and the dreaded “chokey” as the story played out. Everyone I saw left the theatre beaming and presumably feeling the way I did; like creativity, humour and the power of a great story would triumph over rigid discipline, and like the musical we had just seen was one of the best ever made. It adds a few features and plotlines to Dahl’s book, but all serve to enhance the story as a stage piece, and the classic Matilda is still very much in the foundations underneath. I only ever knew Roald Dahl through his work, but I can’t help but feel that he would have been immensely proud of the performance I saw. As I re-read the book to compare the two versions of the story, the songs slipped into my mind against my will, as easily and irresistibly as Bruce Bogtrotter’s first bite of forbidden chocolate cake. And upon entering my head, they sparked in me the best kind of joyful defiance: the desire to be clever in a world seemingly characterised by ignorance, and the willingness to hold on to the childish things that make me happy. The adults in Matilda have lost their wonder – but there is a simple solution offered: Never grow up.

Matilda: The Musical is in its last weeks in Sydney before it moves on to Melbourne. See it any way you can.

Lyndon Riggall is a  young writer and previous judge for the CBCA in Tasmania. You can find him at http://lyndonriggall.com or on Twitter @lyndonriggall.

Editor's note: As a Matilda fan for many years I can't resist sharing a photo of a figurine from the Roald Dahl collection and the fact that I met the man himself at a book signing in Harrods, in London to promote the publication of the BFG - and yes, I have a signed copy :-)

In Praise of Libraries

I recently visited LINC Launceston to borrow some books I had ordered online. As I begin each new writing project I first go to the LINC website and select appropriate research material. This day I picked up my books and a DVD and lined up to check them out.

Both check-out machines were being used by young mothers with small children in tow. I watched, fascinated, as the mum in front of me scanned book after book after book - with the assistance of her five year-old - all the time explaining the types of books they were borrowing.

A friend who loves to cook, frequently borrows audio books so that she can enjoy 'reading' whilst cooking. And for those of us who try to read a chapter or two in bed at night - and constantly nod off - this makes a lot of sense.

My elderly father who has finally exhausted his own DVD collection, borrows DVDs from LINC, the most economical form of movie entertainment for home. And of course libraries also allow us free use of magazines, music, the Internet, reference material, and the opportunity to attend events and exhibition for all ages, with of course - coffee.

Libraries date back to 2600BC. The Library of Alexandria provided an early organisation system and the first classification system was created for imperial libraries in the Han Dynasty in China. From there libraries just got bigger and better.

So where would we be without them? Kathy Dempsey on her blog 'Libraries Are Essential' says it all.

"Libraries are portals to all of the world's knowledge. And librarians make sure that knowledge continues to be recorded and saved for the future, even as information-storage devices and formats change."

I couldn't agree more. What do you think?

Penny Garnsworthy
Freelance Writer and Editor, Tas e-News

The wonder of a character’s appearance

This week Tricia Scott ponders on how the reader construes the appearance of the character - words, imagery, film characterisation and even the role of the plush toy.

A well-written novel for any age group will enable readers to visualise the appearance of charactersand develop empathy for their adventures, struggles and relationships. Supporting illustrations may assist in character visualisation, however, they themselves are the illustrator’s own interpretation of what a character looks like based on the text. Books transformed into other mediums provide yet another interpretation of how characters look and this in itself can be controversial, as recently reported by the ABC News, in relation to the casting of Noma Dumezweni for the role of Hermione Granger for an upcoming production based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. 

Picture books, of course, more clearly provide a specific interpretation of a character’s appearance and many popular children’s books are now sold with a supporting plush toy for children to hug and play with to create further adventures.

In my own bag of tricks to use in sharing literature with very young children I have a number of book inspired toys. Favourites include: the green sheep from Mem Fox’s Where is the Green Sheep?, Pig from Pig the Pug by Aaron Blabey, and the very Australian Grug by Ted Prior.  The proliferation of marketing and merchandise in relation to books often does affect how a character is perceived, however, ultimately a reader’s imagination brings characters to life.

Tricia Scott

Teacher Librarian and 2016 CBCA Book of the Year Judge (Tasmania)

The Hero’s Journey Through Literature (and LEGO)

 Welcome to 2016 and our first post for the year by guest author Johanna Baker-Dowdell as she explores heroes, villains and the wonderful creations from LEGO blocks.

When Dorothy embarks on a quest along the Yellow Brick Road, vanquishes the Wicked Witch of the West with a bucket of water and taps her heels together to be transported home in L. Frank Baum’s 1900 book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the reader, her family and friends all celebrate their heroine.

 

Dorothy’s mission, and the growth of her character as a result, followed the Hero’s Journey, a plot outline developed by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces in 1949. This structure appears as the plot in many of our beloved books from childhood onwards, such as Star Wars, Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia, with readers subconsciously following the cues throughout the protagonist’s journey.

There are 12 steps in Campbell’s Hero’s Journey outline:

1.  The ordinary world – introduction of our hero and setting the scene
2. The call to adventure – something forces the hero to face change
3. Refusal of the call – the hero is scared and tries to avoid the adventure
4. Meeting with the mentor – the hero meets someone wise and courageous who will train him or her or offer advice
5. Crossing the threshold – the hero leaves their ordinary world and enters a new region or condition (special world) with different rules
6. Tests, allies and enemies – the hero is tested and makes alliances in the special world
7. Approach – the hero and allies prepare for a major challenge
8. The ordeal – the hero confronts death or faces their biggest fear
9. The reward – the hero is rewarded for facing death
10. The road back – the hero leaves the special world to ensure the treasure is safe
11. The resurrection – the point where the hero is tested once more (and the climax of the story) through sacrifice and facing death again, with their success ensuring resolution of the conflicting factors within the store
12. Return with the elixir – the hero has been transformed by the experience and returns home with the treasure that has the power to transform the world.

The Hero’s Journey also features prominently in superhero comics, with the characters concurrently battling against a nemesis and struggling with the secrets of their alter egos. This battle is highlighted in LEGO artist Nathan Sawaya’s The Art of the Brick: DCComics exhibition at Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum. This exhibition was a huge hit with my two sons, as well as the big kids in my family (my husband and father), during our recent visit to Sydney. After all, who doesn’t love a good hero story?

Sawaya used thousands of LEGO bricks to recreate his favourite superheroes and supervillains to explore the themes of strength and weakness, transformation, reinvention and good versus evil. The characters Sawaya created were incredible, but my favourite part of the exhibition was when he drew on Campbell’s words to inspire the hero within us all. The quote, “The godly powers sought, and dangerously won, are revealed to have been within the heart of the hero all the time,” resonated with me because we can always see bits of ourselves in the characters we love in books.

The final LEGO character was a boy wearing a cape and standing in a power pose opposite a LEGO-framed mirror in which exhibition visitors could view themselves. I asked my boys to look into the mirror and tell me which hero they saw, to which they both replied “me”.

There’s a hero in us all.

Johanna Baker-Dowdell is a freelance journalist and author of the book Business & Baby on Board.

Blog: http://johannabd.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JohannaBD

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Johanna.BakerDowdell
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