Whatever Wanda Wanted

Author and Illustrator: Jude Wisdom

Publisher: Gullane Children's Books, 2002

What an exciting library find. Bold, brassy illustrations and a story that defied our expectations, a fantastic picturebook. 

Edie (nearly 4) was drawn to this book on the library shelf based on the bright pink cover (sigh!). Yet another princess book I thought; it looked a bit like The Little Princess: I Want my Potty by Tony Ross, 1986, which is no bad thing, but seen it all before (the bratty princess narrative, doting parents, does something wrong, reforms, but is still a bit bratty at the end, because we wouldn't completely want them to reform...or would we?). Whatever Wanda Wanted looks to fit this model initially, and then a shift in the story happens when spoilt, obnoxious, precocious and rude Wanda demands a kite from an magically appearing shop.

Ignoring the warning of the salesman (who's sporting a 70s style tunic and gottee) Wanda takes the kite and is blown away to a desert island. This was quite an exciting extreme twist from the usual half-mistakes made by other bratty princess types (The Little Princess, Peppa Pig, Little Miss stories etc).

The abstract magical realism style illustrations should have really alerted me to the bizarre turn the book might take from the start, with the mix of crayon, pastel and collage producing this super garish and bold page set.The visuals in this book certainly look and feel very original, again, refreshing. 

And so for the twist: Wanda lands on a desert island wailing and complaining about her lack of possessions, especially the lack of access to television. (we liked the dry humour here). So she has a cry, then stands up declaring 'I WILL SURVIVE.' Wanda's own ingenuity and self-drive mean she finds food, shelter and clothing, and she grows 'to love her new life.' (what a turn around: an anti materialism, pro-feminist message!) After making friends with a convenient- plot- device- whale, she catching a ride on the whale's back to return home. On her arrival home her parents are delighted to see Wanda, but have had to sell all their belongings in order to pay for her search party. Wanda assures her parents that she'll be able to knock them up some new furniture, decreeing 'there's more to life than things!'  And then to raise the strong independent woman rhetoric a little higher still, the closing page of the book sees Wanda giving lectures on survival skills and the 'the Beginning' positively reinforced.

As with Princess Smartypants  and The Worst Princess I personally like this brand of post-feminist children's literature to counterbalance 'The Disney princess' (though having recently seen Moana... 

...I'm pleased that there seems to be a wider shift in the sand toward rolling out this representation of strong, independent women with more consistency, sincerity and scope anyway).  

Whatever Wanda Wanted is a great, empowering pre-schooler read, also enjoyed by my KS1 aged son. Recommended target age then 3-6 years. 

And just as an add on, another library find from last week, The Princess and the Dragon by Audrey Wood is also worth a look, again inverting the conventional gender stereotypes. A disruptive, misbehaving princess swaps place with a passive, effeminate dragon, and with the princess and the dragon maintaining the swap at the end, thumbs up for finding true happiness.    

George and The Dragon

George and The Dragon

Author and Illustrator: Chris Wormell

Publisher: Red Fox, Random House Children's Books, 2003

Here's a picture book that stylistically throws testimony to the adage 'less is more'. Generous double page spreads throughout, very little written text, illustrations cast in a simple reddish, brown, purple hue; it feels unusual, it's preserve, endearing.

It's high time I took this book back to the library, but the children are stuck between the binary of frightened and enchanted by this one, so it's remained a stalwart of the bedtime read this week. Fans of fantasy will love this for their children; the rich red illustrations of the immense elongated hulk of the 'mighty' fire breathing dragon remind me of David Day's illustrations of Tolkien's bestiary. With two thirds of the spread devoted on each page to the picture (always in landscape profile), the story takes a comfortable slow, pace feeling nicely controlled. What's also nice about the illustrations is the room dedicated to 'scenery', so the epic mountainous skyline on one spread, the craggy rocks and backdrop of the cave in another. This sets the scene so nicely, and also supports the message of the narrative, in that everything is relative in size- 'small can be big'.  

In terms of the plot, we meet a terrifying dragon who can 'fly higher than clouds and faster than birds'. He's shown battling an army of knights, burning down a village and carrying off a princess. The depiction of the dragon's thin, worm-like body, smoking nostrils and huge claws really contrast the contemporary (tame) rotund bodies of modern children's dragon illustrations (such as Zog by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler, and The Trouble with Dragons by Debi Gilori).  There's something truly original and in so, frightening about this dragon.  

The story is initially set up as dark and scary, with the dragon appearing unbeatable and huge against the mini-scale hopeless figures of the knights (whom he could 'brush away' 'with 'a sweep of his monstrous wing'), and the protesting captured princess. the text then alludes to the dragon harbouring a secret fear, his Achilles heel, which humorously turns out to be a fear of mice. The way this plot turn is introduced, in terms of children's literature, is interesting, very dry in humour here, with the cave entrance littered in a macabre way with skulls and bones and then a mouse, turned away, reading a property sign reading ' sold' at the mouth of the neighbouring cave.  At this point the written text doesn't quite flow as well, introducing the idea that George the mouse seeks sugar for his cup of tea (how British. or should that be 'English' given the context- George and the Dragon').        

At this bizarre turn the narrative unfolds and ends speedily; the dragon, petrified, now flees, and the mouse, a hero, is treated to a feast by the princess. The story then closes with the mouse in residence in a 'cosy little hole in the castle wall' underneath a 'beware of the mouse' warning sign; the dragon, alarmed, cowers behind a mountain. In few words and vast illustrations then, Wormell easily conveys the message not to judge or anticipate on appearance alone.

This is a really delightful, moral, and learned children's picture book then. It's a masterclass in captivating a very young audience; this book being well received by ages 1, 3, 5 and 7 in my house.    

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.