First Greek Myths - Jason and The Golden Fleece

Author: Saviour Pirotta
Illustrator: Jan Lewis
Publisher: Orchard Books, Hachette Children's Books, 2009

I've been excited about reviewing this book for a while, or more so, Pirotta's First Greek Myth series from Orchard Books. These books were the first books Alf (3 years old at the time, but 7 now) requested we borrow again from the library (music to my ears). These were also the first books I found Alf trying to read himself, unprovoked (again, a really special moment for a mum bookblogger). As part of the Orchard Colour Crunchies series these books are intended as 'early readers' but personally I think they need a shout-out as possibly the best books for emerging g independent readers, they're exciting, the perfect length, great illustrations (fascinating, maybe a tad scary, but that's part of the appeal), and full of the essence of adventure: fights, swords, monsters to defeat, voyages, magic, wishes made, promises broken. I'm a fan, and testimony to the longevity of this series, when I left the featured title on the sofa last night, ready to review, Alf picked it up and said, 'ah great! I love these books! Can you read this to me now?' (Recommended reading from 3 years to 7, and upwards and counting then!)

Interestingly, and as a nod to promoting more female leads in children's literature I like to think, in Jason and The Golden Fleece, Pirotta frames the main character not as Jason but Princess Medea, who is introduced first, and whom gets the final exposition on the closing page of the book. This is refreshing, especially as a rewrite of the male-hero binary that normally dominates adaptations of the Greek Myths. Medea is even portrayed as superhero-like with the text declaring, 'At last the powerful princess was free' supported by a picture of Medea looking majestic, with hands held aloft. My three year old daughter approves, and like her brothers, requests this title specifically.  

It's worth saying that each book in the First Myths series starts with a 'cast list' displaying two of the key characters in the book, and how to pronounce their names phonetically. Again this is useful for emergent readers, and for reading adults alike as some of the Greek names are impossible sounding in appearance to say on first reading.  

As the story of Jason and The Golden Fleece is so well known I won't linger on the narrative, only to say that in this version, unlike other children's versions of this myth I've read,  Medea is instrumental in every aspect of Jason winning the Golden Fleece (how postfeminist!)Though this empowered portrayal of women doesn't always transcend in this series: in Theseus and The Man-Eating Monster, for example, poor Ariadne is tricked and left on a desert island by Theseus (in other versions she returns on the boat with Theseus (and reminds him to put the white sail up, which prevents Theseus's father from killing himself). Personally, while it's great to see a positive, strong female characterisation in Medea, I also like the darker interpretation of the Myths. The Greek Myths themselves should be essential reading for any child, they're captivating, and the cornerstone of modern narrative conventions (or so I've read before). 

Beyond being perfectly concise and full of well chosen 'early reader' appropriate vocabulary,  I also like these books for the illustrations, particularly the many head shots with expressions told in the eyes. My eldest son really dislikes drawing, but the cartoon-like nature of the humans in this book inspired his attempt at a potrait based on one of the head shots. The illustrations are simplistic, bright and effective, with the layout of each page uncluttered, and so consecutive reading passages are easily signpost. 

In all then, these are exhilarating short reads. I'm so grateful to my local library for stocking these and in so doing, introducing me and my children to this fantastic series. I think they'd be perfect for supplementing reading in school libraries for KS1.  
If you like the representation of strong female leads in children's literature mentioned here, you might also like: Princess Smartypants by Babette Cole

Here are all the titles in the series (I bought them all as I had to stop borrowing them again and again from the library):

And thanks to starting out on these really simple condensed versions of the Greek Myths, Alf (7) now loves the 1963 Ray HarryHausen Columbia Pictures production of 'Jason and The Argonauts'. This film is a great way to support the reading, and vice versa.

Watch exerts from the film here: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

The Worst Princess

Author: Anna Kemp

Illustrator: Sara Ogilvie

Publisher: Simon and Schuster, 2012

The Worst Princess is a fun, empowering story and recommended reading for any 3-6 year old girl (and boy for that matter), to help balance out (stamp out!) some of that societal saturation of Disney Princess Syndrome.  

In terms of themes and plot, this book sits like a hybrid between Princess Smartypants  (Babette Cole, 1996) and Zog (Donaldson & Scheffler, 2010). Princess Sue has read all the books on princessly behaviour and attitudes, and she is sat in her tower dutifully (but grumpily) awaiting her prince saviour. When the prince finally arrives (and note, he is so inconsequential, he doesn't even get a name) princess Sue is alarmed to find he expects a conventional princess and takes her to his tower. Enjoying her new-found freedom Sue is angry and searches the skies for an escape plan. She is clever and fearless and on seeing a dragon, she beckons him over. they share a cup of tea and agree to pair up to rid themselves of 'the pesky prince.' The story doesn't end with a disappointing patriarchal nosedive, having an equally kick-ass ending with the princess and dragon causing mischief for 'royal twits and naughty knights'  for ever more, and living happily ever after. 

What I really like about this book is that the post-feminist princess rhetoric is consistent throughout. Unlike Princess Smartypants, which subverts the princess fairy-tale genre alongside plenty of pastel and pink shades, The Worst Princess is loud, proud and indignant with lots of bright purple and orange, pointy, rough-edged illustrations. At times the prose is bawdy ('twit, royal bum, stupid castle') , and there's a satirical use of ye-olde English font in parts. My Son, Bert, aged 5, likes that the princess scowls, plays with a yo-yo and wears yellow baseball boots (he notices these things!).   

The book has plenty of humour, and laugh-out loud moments at that. Edie (3) loves the part where the princessly shorts are set on fire, and I like the more dry (adult-pitched) jokes about flying 'Dragon -Air', the dragon sniffing nasal spray and the prince putting on a bossy parent voice by referring to Sue as Susan. 
The Worst Princess is refreshing and brash. Its a very welcome addition to our bookshelf, and sits proud and loud alongside all the cutesy, squeaky clean nonsense my daughter also, sadly, likes.  

Princess Smartypants

Author and Illustrator: Babette Cole
Publisher: First published by Hamish Hamilton 1986, Published by Puffin Books 1996

I learnt today that one of my favourite children's authors of all time has sadly passed away: Babette Cole - https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/16/babette-cole-obituary.

If I could turn back time I would have not only written this particular post earlier, but I would have written to Babette Cole personally to say how amazingly influential her book, Princess Smartypants, was in my life. Thanks to this heavyweight of a feminist, nay, post-feminist piece of children's literature, I decided that, like Princess Smartpants, I would become a 'Ms' (and so I did, from the grand old age of seven) and so I remain a 'Ms' today. Well actually that's not entirely true as really I'm now titled ' Dr', but nonetheless, the feminism remains. 

This was also the very first book I bought for my daughter. It felt like a rite of passage, passing this little piece of inspiration on. It was a special moment, reading 'Princess Smartypants' to Edie for the first time, with its empowering storyline about a kick-ass princess who remains staunchly unmarried. In fact it was truly refreshing, getting away from the constant rhetoric of 'needy princess' stories that so fill our bookshop shelves and children's libraries. And it was even more refreshing to read this fantastic book to my sons, watching their bemused faces as Princess Smartypants out-smarts all her male suitors and lives happily ever after, raising her cocktail  glass aloft. 

What I especially love about this book are the post feminist references, intentional or otherwise (Babette Cole was truly before her time, this book was first published in 1986, which makes it really bold and brave). Princess SmartyPants is pretty, she lies around in a bikini, and also wears leathers, rides a motorbike and wears dungarees. Bright pink and inflections of yellow throughout this book signpost this as 'girly' but it subverts the expectations of gender brilliantly, deliberately. I love that Princess Smartypants has a stream of really hopeless and pathetic male suitors all named appropriately humourous things such as Prince Vertigo ( who can't climb Princess Smartypants' glass tower in order to rescue her) and Prince Boneshaker ( who looks petrified on the back of Princess Smartypants' motorbike). Here's Prince Pelvis being out danced at the roller disco marathon:

These are of course little adult quips, and went way over the head of my children but as I've learnt over the years, pleasing the parent reader is almost as important as winning over the children when it comes to staking out a realm in British children's literature; and Babette Cole's 'Princess Smartypants' does this so well. Even the threat of being hitched to the slimy Prince Swashbuckle is diverted just in time, when the traditional fairytale is flipped right over and Princess Smartypants turns the gloating Prince Swashbuckle into a 'gigantic warty toad' with one fateful princessy kiss.  If only I, like many children of the 1980s, had returned to Babette Cole's work sooner, and thanked her. RIP Babette Cole.