King Jack and the Dragon

Author: Peter Bently

Illustrator: Helen Oxenbury

Publisher: Puffin Books, 2011

Here's a fun, spirit rousing book depicting the power of children's imaginations. My daughter (nearly 4) asked for this book in the week as 'the book about fighting dragons all day long and then thinking you'd like to fight them some more', which I thought was a pretty accurate description of the whole narrative. 

Here we have 'King Jack', his friends, and what seems to be his baby brother, playing out in a makeshift fort in the garden, made from 'a big cardboard box, an old sheet and somesticks, a couple of bin bags, a few broken bricks.' We love this, it's very playful, very everyday, and to a child, very real, tangible. Helen Oxenbury does a lovely job with the illustrations, pen and ink in simple black and white, and then pen and watercolour, roughly one drawing per line. My children have enjoyed this book from about 2 years old onwards, and I think this is because of the high ration of picture to line, it's punchy, easy to read aloud, and leads in to the excitement straight away.  

The little boy in the book, Jack, is leading his troops into battle, defending his castle from 'dragon attack'. The depiction of the dragons and beasts is very fantastical, echoing this theme of the story being a lift from Jack's imagination. The 'creature' pictures certainly have lots of detail ( smoking nostrils, scales, dangly tongues), but might be slightly scary for very young children; they're reminiscent of those in Where The Wild Things are, and of course Oxenbury's own earlier, dream-like creatures in Edward Lear's The Quangle Wangle's Hat. 

With his wooden sword and fists punching the air, the gung-ho adventure culminates in the beasts being chased away by the band of boys, but then there's a really nice, endearing twist in the story where the adults start intervening in the days activities, bringing the playtime to a close. Jack can't except that his lovely day outside is over, so sees that brave knight 'Sir  Zak' has been taken away by a giant (his friend Zak appears to be collected by his dad), then Baby Caspar (his brother) is taken off to bed. Determined to stick it out, despite his growing fears as the garden gets dark, Jack holds fast in his box-fort, until he gets a fright of his own from a 'thing with four feet.' As the shadow lifts and his parents are revealed, reader and character share the same sense of relief. The story ends beautifully with Jack very much a 'boy' being carried in his dads shoulders, and the finale illustration of Jack happily asleep in bed with knight's sword still in hand. 

The book paints this really comforting story of safe imaginative play, content days, childhood fun, friendship, brotherhood and days out in the garden. The soft greens in the book almost smell like summer, and Oxenbury's characteristic close knit hatching make the pictures feel intimate, deep in  perspective, and warm and rich on the eyes. 

A lovely enchanting story that sums up happy childhood and adventure play, all cleverly recalled by Bentley through a child's perspective. 

We're Going on a Bear Hunt

Retold by Michael Rosen

Illustrator: Helen Oxenbury

Publisher: First published by Walker Books Ltd, 1989, featured edition (with CD) 2007

We're Going on a Bear Hunt is more of a song than a 'story' (in the prose sense of story; song's can tell stories of course). This book is lyrical, rhythmic and catchy. It grafts a place on the memory, inside the imagination. It's quite simply a pioneer of modern read-aloud British Children's Literature. 

The narrative sees a family heading off on a walking adventure, an exploration to track down a bear. 'Bear hunt' as the book opens, seems like a fun sing-song, a beat to walk to on the mild summer's day walk. The family are courageous though, and start battling the elements to venture further afield, waist high grass, a deep river, mudflats, a big dark forest, and the most fearsome element of all, an imposing snowstorm. The sense of trepidation grows as the family venture further forwards, repeating the mantra of 'we can't go over it, we can't go under it, we'll have to go through it' on their stoic way. Through the pictures we see the smaller children are carried by the older ones, hair blowing in the breeze, then flapping in the wind, battling adversity 'stumble trip, stumble trip.' And then, a more frightening idea still, a cave, 'a narrow gloomy cave' at that. As the family tiptoe in, they come face to face with a huge brown bear. The 'teddy bear's picnic' or 'follow-the leader' style game the children seem to have been playing is abandoned, and the 'bear-hunt' is suddenly very dark and foreboding with a 'real' bear involved. To the horror of the reader and any listeners, the bear then chases the children, and the story reverts backwards back through all the elements again (but at a faster speed) (three picture strips per page). Eventually the family reach home, running upstairs, with the shadow of the bear chasing them in the door way. Then, a real nail biting moment, 'we forgot to shut the door', and the whole family work together to slam the door just as the bear arrives on the doorstep. Finding the safest place to be / hide in the house, the children race into bed and pull the cover over their heads. A big pink comfy looking quilt enveloping all the children ends the chase, and the bear is the shown plodding back to his cave (alone). Exhilarating.    

Now what strikes me about writing out the narrative of We're Going on a Bear Hunt is that so much of the book is told by the pictures foremost, the text is almost supporting he illustrations, rather than the other way round (which is the convention in children's books, especially at this time).The illustrations (by Helen Oxenbury) depict movement so beautifully, with all the limbs of the children (and their dog) moving in different places, statures in movement positions, hair flowing. The watercolour illustrations in the book offer insight into the conditions the adventuring family face, and these pages in turn are supported by very simple and repetitive use of onomatopoeia to build this description further, so for example long grass sounds and feels, 'swishy swashy', thick oozy mud is 'squelch squerch'. The book also features these chorus-line pages, in black and white (charcoal drawings I think), in which the family are depicted as contemplating their next move, and next tribulation ahead.    

Childhood, and the freedom to explore and 'let be', seems to be a main theme in the book, with sticks in hand for swashing grass and duvets to hide under. Juxtaposed with that are the very solemn and earnest looks on the faces of the family, when they face a new hurdle to overcome. Their expressions grow graver as the story develops, and they start to huddle together in the snowstorm, the carefree river wade far behind them. Whether this is symbolic of a message about growing up, growing together, working through hard times as a family, I'm not sure, I like to think so, but the message my children relay at this point in the story is more one of battling fear, being afraid and wanting to go back (they often point to the baby/ toddler in the pictures, pulling the older sister back).  We're Going on a Bear Hunt is really interesting like that, being chased, going into a cave, stumbling in a dark forest are all the thing of (childhood) nightmares. I think my children are right, it's about conquering fears, feeling safe (at home), and isn't that such a brilliant message? 

In all, I really love this book. It comes with us on many of our own family adventures, as the text is so rhythmic (I don't know the technical term for the beat the lines play out sadly, but the first two lines of every four echo each other, the third and the fourth are the echoed reply), that when we're trekking across fields or walking (by, rather than in!) rivers with the children, one or two of the children often start reciting this book. Bear Hunt triggers so much in the memory. The vast landscapes in the illustrations feel very nostalgic (the flocking birds for example) and the book seems to smell of summertime (with its depiction of light and long shadows, long grass for example). Yes Bear Hunt does contain moments of nightmare, but then fear really etches in the memory (I have a memory of a teacher reading this very book to me as a child and me feeling out of breath and scared as the bear was 'chasing me'). As such, Bear Hunt also stands as an invitation to imagine, to role play, to dream, to explore.  

The Quangle Wangle's Hat

Words by Edward Lear
Illustrations: Helen Oxenbury
Publisher: First Published by William Heinemann 1969. Featured edition Puffin Books, Picture Puffins Series, 1982.

Here's a treat from one children's literature fan to another, The Quangle Wangle's Hat by Edward Lear. 
Now I can't say my children share my passion for this book, though my daughter will choose this occasionally as she knows I like it, but on the whole, its bizarre and by that I mean more 'avant-garde' bizarre rather than bizarre funny: its delicious, a lovely read-aloud rhyme.

Written by Edward Lear, better known for composing The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The Quangle Wangle has a similar dreamy lilting musicality. In this story the creature, a Quangle Wangle Quee (how lovely does that sound read aloud) lives alone in a tree. He wears a strange hat covered in ribbons, bells and buttons, and no one can see his face. One day some canaries stumble on the Quangle's tree, high on a hillside. The Quangle Wangle Quee welcomes them, and the canaries are soon followed by a whole band of creatures who keep the Quangle company forever more; a stork, duck, owl, snail, bumble-bee, frog, and then the excitement begins as the collection of creatures grow more elaborate, non-nonsensical and imaginary: the Fimble Fowl with corkscrew leg, Golden Grouse, the Pobble (with no toes), the small Olympian Bear, the Dong (with a luminous nose), and 'the Blue baboon, who played the flute, And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute.'   

Accompanied by Helen Oxenbury's delicate, detail-rich illustrations this book is a joy on the eyes and ears. Its a very 'busy' story, character full, ending with dance and music as the creatures live in harmony all on the tree together. It's somewhat hallucinogenic feeling, with the now unfamilar dated pastel colour palette (on the 1980s print era), the multi-coloured made-up animals dancing on disc-like leaves, and as such I would avoid reading this book with the first strong coffee of the morning, as you'll need your composure. 

This version of The Quangle Wangle's Hat reminds me very much of my 2010 edition of Where the Wild Things Are (Maurice Sendak, originally written and illustrated in 1963), particularly the scene where the loud trumpeting creatures prance around merrymaking. I wouldn't be surprised if inspiration had been taken cross textually by both writers and illustrators involved in these two works at some point in time.  

In terms of themes, The Quangle Wangle's Hat is probably one of the most innocent and light-hearted of stories I have come across in Children's Literature so far (and thus differs hugely from the very dark, Where the Wild Things Are). The Quangle Wangle is about coming together, embracing individuality (and bizarre-ness), hoping for company and wanting to be accepted, and becoming part of things, or even being at the centre of that coming together. This is interesting, given that the Quangle is the ultimate in reclusive, he's 'different', a sort of tree hermit, covering his face (or having his face covered?). Another thought would be that the Quangle is also welcoming, and appears to have power or possession, or at least be a gate keeper to the big Crumpetty tree where all the creatures seek to live. Politically then, The Quangle might stand as a guardian of nature or some kind of religious or cult guru, a wise man or leader maybe. 

All in all, this book feels psychedelic and pushes hard at the unexpected; it is a convention- defying book (and in my experience children feel very uncomfortable (initially)with this lack of convention at least on the first few reads). While as an adult it feels uplifting and optimistic, the themes here go astray with children, and on reading this Edie complains, 'but where is the Pobble from?' 'what is a Fimble Fowl', searching for some logic. And of course, as not to disappoint, you end up filling in the blanks, 'well the Pobble had a big belly, short legs...', which is I expect, exactly what poet Edward Lear intended.