February and March Reading

In February I travelled to America for a short visit, travelled to the UK to spend the next six months working on a project here, and spent a lot of time doing visa paperwork. In March, I flathunted, moved into my new place (I’m still in the process of settling in, and also have no internet at home), and began work. I ought to have read more over this period than I did, but well.

 

Robin Stevens, A Spoonful of Murder: I’ve been a bit nervous about this book. The pitfalls of writing a novel in which an aristocratic English girl visits a friend in 1930s Hong Kong are many and I’m invested enough in this series that I don’t want unpleasant feelings spoiling it for me. In the event, I can’t speak for the quality of its depiction of a city I’ve never been to (at a period I wasn’t alive), but it seemed to avoid the specific pitfalls that I’ve been used to looking out for. More importantly, the depiction of a relatively (or in Hazel’s case extremely) wealthy and privileged girl showing the place she’s grown up in to the British friend and being acutely aware of how certain things look from outside is an experience I can speak to, and here it feels real and nuanced. And the series continues to be wonderful at invoking complex, painful interpersonal relationships, and subjecting Hazel (who I love, and intensely want to protect) to various forms of emotional devastation.

 

John Agard, Book: I planned to read this a couple of years ago, when it was one of the only books on the Carnegie longlist by a BAME author (it did not make it to the shortlist, in common with all other books by BAME authors on Carnegie longlists since*). I wish I’d read it earlier, because it’s wonderful. A separate post to come; but I grew up reading good nonfiction as well as fiction, and it saddens me that I see less of it in bookshops (and even less on award shortlists etc) than I used to. This is the sort of thing I’d have loved as a child–its history of the book is as much an etymological history as anything else (this is where this book-related term comes from and this is why), it’s interspersed with quotations that open up such a wide and unexpected bibliography for a children’s book (just the thought of discovering Brecht when I’d been the target age for this book!); and while we get the North-Africa-Europe-Gutenberg version of book history, we get enough of the rest of the world that it becomes global and vital.

 

Misa Sugiura, It’s Not Like It’s a Secret: A YA novel involving a Japanese-American protagonist who moves from the Midwest to California and finds herself facing the possibility of a mostly-Asian friend group for the first time in her life, as well as coming to terms with her own queerness and falling in love with a Mexican-American girl. Meanwhile, her increasing knowledge of her father’s long-term affair with another woman, as well as her mother’s response to it, is another huge and complicated thing which she needs to assimilate. This is a teenage romance, and follows all the rules of that genre, and is in general very satisfying. But it’s also willing to be interested and complex about the ways in which power dynamics play out in multiracial groups,  families are complicated, and teenagers are genuinely really new to some of the big ideas they’re facing, and can be clever and well-meaning and clumsy and lacking in nuance at all at the same time. Though, as with Julie Buxbaum’s Tell Me Three Things, I could do with less adolescent thoughts on poetry; they remind me too much of my own youth and not in a good way.

 

Swapna Dutta, Juneli’s First Term, Juneli at Avila’s, An Exciting Term: This is a set of school stories written and serialised in the 70s and 80s, and set in a school in India. I’d heard of them before, but only recently realised that they were available as ebooks, and was intrigued enough to buy and read all three. A post to follow (I have many thoughts on genre and intertextuality and the school story and empire; who knew?), but I enjoyed these.

 

Ngaio Marsh, a whole bunch of three-in-one anthologies: In times of stress I turn to golden age crime, but had thus far never actually read any Ngaio Marsh. I therefore attempted to read ALL the Ngaio Marsh at one go. Still in the midst of this foolish enterprise, but I’m enjoying it very much.

 

*This year’s shortlist does at least recognise one black author, which feels like a huge improvement, but as Angie Thomas is American, and The Hate U Give had already been massively successful in the US, this inclusion doesn’t tell us much about improvements in the British children’s publishing world, or indeed the ability of the judges to recognise quality books without having the work already done for them …

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