Fuzzy Mud, by Louis Sachar

Fuzzy Mud is the story of Marshall and Tamaya and one “little” science experiment gone just a little bit out of control…

Seventh grader Marshall and fifth grader Tamaya live on the same road and go to the same school and Marshall, as the older of the two, is responsible for walking Tamaya home. Tamaya is uncomfortable about not sticking to the rules and not telling the truth, so when Marshall suddenly decides to take a short cut home through the out-of-bounds woods that border the school property she’s not sure which is worse: entering the woods or walking home alone. But really, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just a bunch of trees, after all…

And why does Marshall take this sudden deviation from the norm? To avoid Chad, of course. The biggest bully in the school and a kid intent on making Marshall’s life as difficult as possible. Unfortunately, Chad is not so easily deterred, and follows Marshall and Tamaya into the woods.

Fuzzy Mud is the result of a confluence of events: a bully, a trip into the woods, a victim (or two), and an escaped ergie. The ergie is a man-made, single-celled, high-energy, fast-multiplying microorganism. Aka: fuzzy mud. And when Tamaya defends herself from bullying Chad by scooping up a handful of fuzzy mud and flinging it into his face, well, that’s the beginning of everything…

What is the nasty rash Tamaya develops on her hand, and what has happened to Chad?

Fuzzy Mud is – as you’d expect no less from Louis Sachar – completely brilliant, and I loved it. It’s a little bit like Andrew Smith’s Grasshopper Jungle, but for middle grade readers instead of teens – the style is kind of similar, and both books cover the subject of man’s hubris when playing with the natural order of things (in the case, the creation of the ergie). Fuzzy Mud is told using a mixture of techniques, combining reports and interviews with the interchanging stories from Tamaya and Marshall.

What happened at SunRay Farm and how is it linked to Marshall and Tamaya?

Sachar incorporates lots of different themes into this swiftly told tale, from bravery and bullying to what ‘doing the right thing’ means – plus the science, of course. The rime counter included at the start of the chapters adds an extra sense of urgency, as you see how fast things develop, and this feeling is increased by the physical count of the ever-multiplying ergies.

How can they stop the fuzzy mud from spreading? Is it the end of the world?

Marshall and Tamaya are two very different characters but they’re both really easy to like, and the events of the story really bring them both out of their respective shells – lots of lovely character development! This is an excellently written page-turner, and brilliant choice for any young (or older!) readers looking for something just a little bit different.

The Wolf Wilder by Katherine Rundell

I’ve gotten into the habit of penciling notes in the margins or on the blank pages at the back of the books I'm reading. They could be about anything: an idea or a theme that speaks to me from the story, a particular line that I find meaningful or especially beautiful, a précis of the story to use when I review the book later on. The length and variety of these notes changes book by book, mood by mood. But today, opening my copy of The Wolf Wilder by Katherine Rundell, thinking I’d revisit my reading thoughts before writing a review, I discover the book is untouched, note free. Tabula rasa.

Generally speaking, the more annotated a book is, the more it’s made me think and the more I think of it, but I can only surmise that in the case of The Wolf Wilder I was so busy soaking up the wild atmosphere and the untamed characters and their adventures that all thought of making notes on such things completely fell by the wayside, utterly forgotten in the pure and simple pleasure of reading. Rundell walks a perfectly balanced tightrope with her writing, creating an utterly magical story that simultaneously contains no magic in the fantastical sense – fairies and wands aren’t the magic here, but the wild dreams and actions of a small group of children racing across the winter tundra, led by Feo, her wolves, and her determination.

In a land where wolves are captured from the wild and brought into aristocratic homes to be dressed up and paraded around as pets, Feo and her mother are not wolf tamers, but wolf wilders. Taking in the pampered creatures when the rich houses ultimately reject them – for a snarl or a bite – they help the wolves figure out how to be free again. The woods and the wolves are Feo’s entire life, but when General Rakov and the local army regiment begin to exert corruptive control over the region, and comes after Feo and her mother, everything inevitably changes.

On the run from General Rakov, Feo enters the world outside the all-encompassing forest of her childhood: Russia at the turn of the twentieth century, where people either have everything or nothing, and something more than just fear is brewing beneath the surface. Glimpses of this are shown right from the start of the story through Feo’s friendship with Ilya, a child soldier she encounters in the woods one day, but when they leave the trees, the more they travel, the more apparent it becomes that things are not right. Feo is like a wolf embodied in human form: naturally feisty, she never backs down from a fight, defending her family at all cost, standing up for right and against wrong, so it’s little wonder that her plight to rescue her mother from Rakov’s St. Petersburg prison soon becomes so much more, nor that she unwittingly inspires others to follow her. She doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything, though I think, inside, she’s secretly very afraid, which is impossible not to identify with.

But it’s not just the characters and their actions that make this book. The settings that Rundell conjures are as much a part of the character of the story as the people and the wolves are. From the deep forest of Feo’s home, where everything feels safe and secure until Rakov comes, to the blank snow-covered wildness away from the trees where Feo is running for her life. Then there is the ruined, burnt-out hamlet where a young brother and sister take Feo and Ilya in for the night despite their own practical homelessness. And, towards the denouement of the story, Feo and her band of friends take refuge in a disintegrating castle a little way outside St Petersburg to formulate a plan for entry to the city and then the prison where her mother is being held. The castle is holding together, a surreal opulence interspersed with blackened, burnt-out patches and cracks at the seams that I can’t help but find reflective of the state of the world and city that Feo is venturing into.

It’s hard to avoid comparing Katherine Rundell (who, don’t forget, won the 2014 Waterstones Children’s Book Prize for Rooftoppers) with the master of children’s storytelling, Eva Ibbotson – their writing shares a similar appeal and timelessness and magic, and with heroines and heroes who are good and brave and true. But, to quote Phil Earle recently (on Twitter), her “voice is truly original. And special.” There are moments of fear and darkness in Feo’s story, but equally there are moments of wonder and joy. The Wolf Wilder is a snowy adventure, packed with all sorts of different kinds of bravery and, of course, Rundell’s unspoken magic, and is sure to capture any young reader’s imagination.

The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow by Katherine Woodfine

‘Sinclair’s’ is a stunning new department store about to open its doors in London’s Piccadilly. It’s going to be the place to go for the finest clothes, chicest hats, and sweetest bonbons. Sophie is one of the new shop girls and she desperately wants to fit in and make a go of things. But on the eve of the opening, a terrible theft takes place: the exquisite, jewel-encrusted clockwork sparrow is stolen from the grand exhibition installed by Mr. Sinclair as part of the opening fanfare. And Sophie was the last one seen in the exhibition hall…

We know Sophie is innocent, but can she prove it? Especially when the police and Sinclair’s management seem to determined to make her the scapegoat.

Of course, there is far more to The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow than a simple theft. Here you will find everything you need in a good mystery: code cracking, secret passageways, gangs, double crosses and dirty dealings – even a kidnap, the threat of an ‘infernal device’ and a desperate bid to reveal the truth and save the day. Katherine Woodfine completely confounded me with the intricacies of her plotline, which dug deeper and deeper as the tale progressed; the twists and turns and connections are all kept well hidden until they are needed.

Sophie is a lovely heroine trying to be the best sort of person she can in a time when being a young independent woman was far from easy. Befriended by Billy, a young porter at the store (who’s more interested in catching up with the latest Boys of Empire comic than doing any actual ‘portering’), and Lil, a store model with theatre aspirations and more self confidence than the starriest starlet, they team up to decode the clues of the case and help out Joe, a homeless boy on the run from a notorious east end gang.

What is the importance of the clockwork sparrow? Could the theft be an inside job? But how? Can Sophie get her job back and can they keep Joe safe from the people who are after him? And who is the mysterious Baron? - Just mentioning his name is enough to send a shiver down your back.

There has been quite a revival recently of detective fiction for children and The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow is another great addition. In the pre-war setting of 1909 (think Selfridges or Fortnum & Mason), Katherine Woodfine has created all sorts of fun and hi-jinx scenarios for Sophie and her eclectic band of friends. You get a real sense of the time and place from her writing but – like Robin Stevens and her Wells & Wong Mysteries – the plot and the pace and the characters are far from constrained by their world, and are as easy to engage with and as enjoyable to read as any contemporary characters. I'm looking forward to finding out what else is in store for Sophie, Billy, Lil and Joe!

We Are All Made of Molecules, by Susin Nielsen

We Are All Made of Molecules is an excellent feel-good book. I read it very quickly because the story was so compelling and the characters so full of life.

Stewart and Ashley are not related, but they’re about to become brother and sister: Stewart’s dad is moving in with Ashley’s mum. Stewart’s always wanted a sister; Ashley has most definitely never wanted a brother. Stewart is extremely smart but not great at making friends; Ashley is more interested in maintaining her position at the top of the social ladder than schoolwork. Stewart’s mum died a while back and he misses her like crazy; Ashley’s father moved out after announcing he is gay and she can’t believe he spent all her life lying to her. This new family that’s being created is going to be interesting. Very interesting.

We Are All Made of Molecules reminded me at times of both Lara Williamson’s wonderful A Boy Called Hope and Holly Goldberg Sloan’s insightful Counting by 7s – but with it’s own special je ne se quoi of course. The characters are lovely, and grow brilliantly through the story – Stewart has so much to offer with his intelligence and his little insights into the world, while the changes Ashley goes through are equally as affirming.

Each chapter alternates between Stewart’s and Ashley’s viewpoints and Susin Nielsen has created two very distinct voices for each of them. Stewart is sweet and innocent, and so good-hearted. He’s decided to leave his old, exclusive school ‘Little Genius Academy’ and join Ashley’s high school. He’s not exactly clueless about the social mores, and it’s not that he doesn’t care what other people think of him – he does – it’s more that his idea of what makes him appear cool is skewed compared to Ashley’s. Can he find a way to fit in and make friends?

Ashley is hilarious – she doesn’t mean to be, but when she gets her words mixed up it’s hard for everyone not to laugh: she can’t wait, for instance, to be 16 so she can get ‘unconstipated’ (emancipated). At the start of the story she comes across as brattish and spoilt, but she knows what’s what, really, I think; it’s just that she’s so entirely focused on maintaining her social standing that her morals and empathic ability have been cast by the wayside. The question is, if she lets go of her anger and her fears, can she find what she’s lost?

And what happens when gorgeous Jared, the new boy at school, is added to the mix? Is he sent from heaven or is he just a school bully? He’s going to tangle things up even more, that’s for sure, and adds that extra, explosive quality to the story…

This is a tricky book to classify though: it’s sort of grown-up middle grade / young teen – very approachable for older middle grade readers, but some of the things that take place are more teen orientated. Jared, for instance, exerts a certain level of sexual pressure on Ashley that some parents might feel inappropriate for younger readers. Kim Slater’s Smart straddles a similar sort of boundary, and I think there’s an argument that we need more of them – readers, after all, can’t really be classified either. Personally, I would highly recommend We Are Made of Molecules to everyone and anyone aged maybe 11 to 100! It really hit the mark - or, as Stewart would say: it's quality.

Now I need to go and get two t-shirts made: one with the book's title and one that says,

"Always be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then always be a unicorn."

Think I'm a little odd? Well, you'll just have to read the book then…

Arsenic for Tea, by Robin Stevens

Welcome to the Wells & Wong Detective Society. If you haven’t met them before, don’t worry, we can introduce you. Miss Daisy Wells, aged thirteen (very nearly fourteen), daughter of Lord and Lady Hastings of Fallingford House, and Miss Hazel Wong, also aged thirteen, daughter of rich Hong Kong businessman (but with a thing for all things English). Daisy is a very determined young lady who is used to things going her way, but who recently learnt it isn’t always a bad thing to listen to the advice of a friend like Hazel.

The Detective Society was born in Murder Most Unladylike after one of their mistresses at Deepdean School went missing – well, ok, after one of their mistresses was murdered. Daisy is President and Hazel is Vice President and Secretary. This basically means Hazel has to write down everything that happens, which, if I do say so myself, she does extremely well. So far they have a 100% success rate, but things have been quiet as far as cases are concerned recently. Until now, that is.

Now is 1935, the Easter holidays, and Daisy and Hazel have decamped from school to Daisy’s home – a traditional English mansion that is getting a little rough around the edges – for the holiday break and to celebrate Daisy’s birthday. There are lots of other members of Daisy’s family there along some other friends from school, Kitty and Beanie, their holiday governess, and a friend of Daisy’s mother, one Mr. Curtis. Except that now Mr. Curtis appears to have been poisoned. It wouldn’t have been a terribly bad thing – he really wasn’t very nice – except that now the village is flooded out so no-one can leave, and someone in the house is Responsible. Yes, with a capital R. Someone in the house is a murderer and Daisy has decided this is a perfect new case for the Detective Society. Can they solve it before the police arrive?

Robins Stevens tells a rip-roaring story. Arsenic for Tea is an adventure and a mystery, but is also about friendship and family, trust and betrayal. The world she has created is very jolly hockey sticks and terribly spiffing, yet she draws the balance between this and contemporary story-telling absolutely perfectly - it never becomes too stuffy or OTT, yet always maintains it thirties overtone. In addition to which there is an awful lot of very neat plotting – to start with, it seems as if almost every member of the household could be the culprit, but the girls gradually rule out suspects as they eavesdrop behind cabinets, go hunting for evidence, and gradually pull together all the little pieces of the puzzle.

Hazel’s voice is wonderful as she recounts everybody’s actions blow by blow, all interspersed with her own thoughts and feelings. It’s a particularly tricky case for Daisy because it seems inevitable that the murderer must be one of Daisy’s family. She really doesn’t want to have to suspect any of them, and who can blame her, but if she’s to be a proper detective she simply has to, while Hazel is reminded of the fear she felt from their previous murder case and the worries around what might become of them should the culprit discover their investigation.

All in all, Arsenic for Tea is an absolute joy. Not only such fun to read, but Stevens keeps us guessing all the way through – I only put two and two together two paragraphs before Hazel does in a classic ‘oh my god!’ moment. Amidst red herrings, multiple motives, a sagging family legacy and – fortunately – plenty of cake, there is one thing of which I can be sure: Wells & Wong are here to stay. Brilliant.

Has Anyone Seen Jessica Jenkins? by Liz Kessler

Jess doesn’t have the best attention span in the world, especially when it comes to geography class, but when she nods off in the middle of the lesson one afternoon, she never would have dreamt what happens next… According to her best friend Izzy, Jess’s arm starts to disappear. What? It can’t be true, can it?

Except it is. As Jess discovers her new secret power and figures out how to control it, she uncovers the sort of conspiracy you wouldn’t normally expect in a small town like hers. Like the fact that she’s not the only one who’s experiencing strange things, and her and her friends are not the only people who know about it either. What will happen if the wrong people get their hands on this secret? And on the special serum that’s made it all possible?

Liz Kessler has a particular talent for writing books not only with a vein of the supernatural running through them, but with veins of adventure, mystery, discovery, bravery and – arguably the most important thing of all – friendship. Easy going, friendly, fun and with a snarky touch of sarcasm to her sense of humour, Jess has always been a loyal friend, but she’s about to discover what true friendship really means, that the assumptions we make about people aren’t always true, and that when you get to know someone a bit better they can surprise you.

Has Anyone Seen Jessica Jenkins? Is fun, funny, and little bit different. With strong male and female characters, and a bunch of superpowers for the taking, don’t let boys be put off by the pink sneakers on the front cover. Plus it’s an adventure story that keeps you guessing, with something new around every corner. And I really like the quirky chapter headings – illustrated by Emily Twomey they bring together all the different things that will feature in each stage of the story and are just itching to be coloured in.

Jessica Jenkins might feel like the power of invisibility makes her ‘slightly superhero’, but maybe she’s always had what it takes to be a hero, superpower or no superpower…

The Child's Elephant, by Rachel Campbell-Johnston

Bat lives in the village of Jambula. He spends his days herding his small band of cattle, running errands for his grandmother, playing wrestling games with the other village boys in the evenings. One day, out with his cattle, he and his friend Muka find Meya, a baby elephant, orphaned by poachers, collapsed and starving in the scrub.

Meya is welcomed into village life, for elephants are considered a sacred animal - close to humans in the way they form friendships and families and loyalties, but close to the spirits too – and she is everything to Bat: constant friend and companion, as he helps raise her and feed her and she joins him out on the savannah with his cattle. It’s a hard life, but an idyllic sort of one too, with few concerns but the next day and the turning of the seasons.

Except soon rumours of a terrible child army reach the village, tales of refugees and roads not being safe to travel. And when Lobo returns to Jambula, the cruel son of the medicine woman, a boy who knows only how to boast and bully, he is fascinated and intrigued by Bat and his relationship with Meya. Does he want Meya for his own? What will he do if he can’t get her?

The Child’s Elephant is a story of friendship and survival and hope. Bat and Muka’s world will soon be turned upside down, their minds and bodies pushed to the very limits, but friendship, a belief in what is right and wrong and – most importantly – hope, will help them to survive.

Rachel Campbell-Johnston seamlessly combines a tale of quiet village life, an edgy co-existence with African wildlife, with the brutality and fear and the ravaging of communities exhorted by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army as, from a caring wildlife tale we are transported with Bat and Muka to a brutal training camp. Here, Bat is coerced into a place where he must betray those whom he holds most dear, the terrible choice of Muka or Meya. How can he choose? What can he do? And when they make a run for it, it seems that all will be against them: the people, the land, the season. Will they ever find home again? What will they have to sacrifice along the way?

This a very accomplished young novel, the balance between the wildlife and the African plains and the all-encompassing forests of the army perfectly rendered. There are some potentially difficult scenes: Bat’s encounter with the poachers in the opening chapter, his and Muka’s capture by the rebels, the brutality of the camp, their friend Gulu’s tale of his own capture. But Campbell-Johnston writes them with the utmost care, keeping me on the edge of my seat, but without unnecessary angst. And she summons Bat’s life to the page wonderfully: the sights and sounds of the land around him, the link between him and Meya, his cares and concerns, the changes that are wrought upon him.

Several years are covered during the book, both quiet ones and difficult ones, but there’s not a dull moment and everything that takes place does so for a reason; everything will be called upon again in later chapters, will take Bat and Muka on their journey forward into adulthood. It is sad and wonderful all at once, but their care for the world around them and their friendships with Meya, with Gulu, and with each other, will see them through and into the future. Suitable for middle grade readers, I can see why The Child’s Elephant has been chosen for the 2014 Carnegie Medal shortlist; it would be a good step up particularly for anyone who likes Michael Morpurgo, or Lauren St John’s African Adventures series.