What All Teenagers Should Read: Part 3

 Over on Substack, I'm doing a series on what all teenagers should read. Here is part 3, on Ursula Le Guin.

Jenny Nimmo

 I've written a little piece on Jenny Nimmo over on Substack. 

Live Twitter Takeover of Little Island

 On Monday, I'll be doing a LIVE Twitter takeover of the Little Island account. Drop by!

Write Your Own Myths

 I'm absolutely thrilled with this beautiful cover by Anette Pirso, who has also illustrated WRITE YOUR OWN MYTHS throughout, making the book a rich and beautiful experience. It's a non-fiction title for 12+ - a guide to creating your own myths with creative writing prompts.

Literary Review Children's Book Christmas Round Up

Here's my Christmas children's book round up for Literary Review.

It features Sally Gardner's Invisible in a Bright Light, Frances Hardinge's Deeplight, Hilary McKay's A Time of Green Magic, Catherine Fisher's The Velvet Fox, Alison Moore's Sunny and the Hotel Splendid, Chris Riddell's Guardians of Magic, and Ben Manley and Emma Chichester Clark's The Misadventures of Frederick.

The Arrow of Apollo: Cover

Good morning everyone,

I'm delighted to reveal the cover for THE ARROW OF APOLLO, which will be out in May 2020, published by Unbound.

I think it's wonderful: dynamic, exciting, and giving a real sense of the story and drama.

Not long till publication now...

THE ARROW OF APOLLO reaches 100 %

Apollo and Sarpedon

Some good news: THE ARROW OF APOLLO, my children's book based on Greek myth, has reached 100 % of its funding target with Unbound. I'm absolutely delighted, and can't wait to see the finished product, which will be a beautiful hardback.

Many thanks to everyone who contributed and shared.

The Arrow of Apollo hits 90 %

"Apollo pursuing Daphne" by Tiepolo

Some good news from the crowdfunding wars: "The Arrow of Apollo" is now 92 % funded. This has been a long, slow journey, and now it's almost there. To celebrate, I'll be regularly posting paintings of Apollo over on Twitter and Tumblr. 

You can read more about The Arrow of Apollo on the Unbound website, here. 

30 Best Children's Books for The Independent

I was asked to choose the 30 greatest children's books for The Independent. A very hard task indeed, but here's the list.

The Lost Magician by Piers Torday: review

I've reviewed Piers Torday's latest novel, The Lost Magician, for The Guardian. Read it here.

The Arrow of Apollo hits 80 %

Apollo. Or is it Luke Evans?

Apollo, in his guise of god of the sun, has been rather present of late. Perhaps that is why THE ARROW OF APOLLO, my Greek myth inspired children's novel, has now reached 80 % of its funding target. Read more about it here.

THE KING'S REVENGE a Books for Keeps Book of the Year

THE KING'S REVENGE is one of Ferelith Hordon's Books of the Year in Books for Keeps. Read all of them here.

Review of The Double Axe on Reading Matters

Here's a lovely review of THE DOUBLE AXE on the Reading Matters website.

Buy THE DOUBLE AXE from Waterstones here.

Greek Myth in Children's Fiction: Part 7

From the mother and daughter team that brought you Lionboy comes Halo, an enormously involving story in which a young girl is castaway on an island full of centaurs. She must dress as a boy to survive, and ends up in the centre of Athenian politics. It's a wonderfully original take on ancient myth, and Halo is a lively and intelligent heroine battling to find out about herself within the context of greater turmoil.

(The cover, by the way, shouldn't have been in Greek letters - the title reads EDLTH. Confusing for a book that has the Greek alphabet in the back.)

Greek Myth in Children's Fiction: Part 5

One of the other great dynasties of Greek myth is that of Oedipus and his family at Thebes. Sophocles' play Antigone is part of this cycle, and Ali Smith, in her version The Story of Antigone (written for Pushkin Press as part of their "Save the Story" cycle) is imaginative and wise. A crow forms the framing device, and all the great themes of love, honour and duty are dealt with sensitively and sympathetically, and also faithfully. A must for anyone building a library of classics for the young.

Alma: Discount on THE DOUBLE AXE

Alma are giving a 25 % discount on THE DOUBLE AXE for a short time only. Simply email info@almabooks.com with your order and the code AXE25JULY.

Greek Myths in Children's Fiction: Part 1 of 10

There's nothing so potent as a myth. In response to a question on Twitter, I will be posting for ten days ten excellent books for children that either use Greek myth or retell it in some way.

1. The Luck of Troy by Roger Lancelyn Green

Not as well known as Lancelyn Green's Tales of the Greek Heroes, this is perhaps a more engaging and thrilling retelling. Nico is Helen's son, kidnapped by Paris of Troy as a child with his mother. After ten years of war, it looks like there's no hope: but Nico knows about the "luck" of Troy. Beautifully written, and very closely based on literary sources, it manages to tell the canonical story with grace, beauty and intelligence. There is Paris with his panther skins; Cassandra the prophetess; and all the great panoply of heroes and heroines - and Nico is a fine and determined guide.

Here's a beautiful cover posted by @gjteevan on Twitter. I wonder who the illustrator was? Very striking - blood, action, danger.

THE KING'S REVENGE

THE KING'S REVENGE, the final volume in the Darkening Path trilogy, is almost ready to be sent for type-setting. It will be published on May 28th 2016. Stay tuned for updates. It features a thrilling journey to the centre of time and space on a quest to save the universe from destruction. Featuring a knight bent on revenge; a demi-god; visions, shifting landscapes, armoured insects and basically quite a lot of derring-do. Now's the time to catch up on THE BROKEN KING and THE KING'S SHADOW.

My inspiration: T H White's Once and Future King

I've written a piece for The Guardian about T H White's The Once and Future King. You can read it here. It follows S F Said's My Inspiration piece, about Ursula Le Guin.

Wasp Attack

Slinkachu

This year I've been continuing my workshops with St Augustine's C of E in Kilburn, and this week I got them to imagine being really small and to write about an ordinary experience. There were some lovely results, including a kitchen adventure and an uninterested Barbie in a toy shop. I got a bit carried away by it, and wrote this little piece, which I thought I'd put up here. The picture on the left is by Slinkachu, who makes wonderful pictures of little people in the city: website is here.

WASP ATTACK
by Philip Womack
 

It had been a long Wednesmonth, and we were nearing the middle of it. I’d managed to persuade father and mother that we had almost enough food for the long dark month that was coming up – and so Mindy and I were allowed out of the complex for a bit of fun. We’d scrambled through the tunnels, and nodded to Paul the old porter.

“Coast is clear,” he said, and grumpily opened up the gate for us. We stepped outside, I holding my spear, and Mindy with her little catapult that she was just learning how to use. It was a time of the month when the Nameless Ones seemed to be going about their business in their weird buildings, and so it was relatively safe to venture into the black plain. 

I needed to get out of the complex, anyway: all that darkness, all that walking through tunnels.

            Mindy ran off immediately to the old lake, and started splashing about joyfully. I scanned the vast black desert. There was nothing to be seen. I put down my spear, and relaxed, breathing in the cold wind. It filled me with excitement.

            I could see all the way up to the stone wall, above which the Nameless Ones sometimes trampled. There were the strange tall trees that didn’t put out leaves, stretching up and up to the outer sky.

            As Mindy shrieked and yelped and splashed, I caught the scent of something – that odd, sweet-salty tang that meant some store of food was about. They were so careless, the Nameless Ones, always discarding things that could feed us for months.

            I looked about, and there it was. As big as the entrance hall to the King’s chambers. A thick container resting against the stone wall, and it was half full of the hard loaf that, despite its tastiness, the Nameless Ones must hate, since they threw so much of it away.

            Did I have time to get it? I wondered. It was a fair few minutes’ hike. I saw Mindy’s tiny figure wading about in the edges of the old lake and thought – she’s old enough to take care of herself for a bit. That prize is good enough. It’ll last the tribe for ages if I can drag one of those loaves back.

            So I picked up my metal spear, and set out across the black plain, past the yellow road that ran in double lines, that led to the centre of the Nameless Ones’ city, a place so terrifying we never went there. I scrambled over boulders, keeping the smell of the loaves in my nostrils. I was salivating. I began to feel adventurous. I imagined the scene: sweating, dirtied and bloodied, I would heave the loaf into the complex, and be met with the praise due to a returning warrior, and the King’s daughter would smile at me and maybe later we would dance.

            The smell was almost overpowering now. I was nearly there. I caught Mindy’s happy squealing on the wind. High above me towered layer upon layer of the thick, crunchy loaf. I considered the prospect. I’d be able, if I tried, to pull one out from near the middle. I grabbed hold of its thick edge – my hands smarting from the sharp white rocks of salt that covered it – and began to pull.

           Then I heard it. Mindy. She wasn’t yelling with joy. That was fear – worse, horror. I whipped round and saw Mindy splashing as fast as she could out of the old lake.

            Whirring angrily above her, its heavy wings clashing, its vicious weapons glinting, and its eyes, its hideous eyes, was that terror of the plains, in all its black and gold striped glory.

            I ran. What else was there to do? I left behind the prize, my tribe’s sustenance. I sprinted over the black desert, waving my spear angrily. The monster was making long, lazy circles around Mindy. She looked so small and frightened, she might have been a doll.

“Help!” she screamed. “Garmond, help!” She took shelter behind a boulder. The monster spun its cruel circle, and I took aim. Mindy yelled. I hurled the spear with all my might, hoping it would reach its target.

            “Run!” I cried. It didn't seem to take any time at all, and yet it felt like forever. I watched as my spear hit the thing sideways, not piercing its armour. It wobbled, knocked a little off course. Mindy was running back to the gate. The noise had caused the porter to open it, and he was peering out anxiously. Mindy neared the entrance.

            Weaponless, I ran, the monster’s fearsome buzz filling the skies. My sister’s face, white, staring at me. The porter’s mouth, open. His arms outstretched. The shadow of the monster on the plain. I tripped, and fell, and rolled over onto my back, and saw the creature, its sharp sting extended, making straight for me.

            Death. I closed my eyes. What would it mean? We all lived out through the months, from the Moon’s to the Sun’s, seven months a year. Some of us lived to 120 or so. I’d reached 24. I had so much left to live.

            I braced myself. The noise was too much. I heard the monster’s wings, and I heard it preparing to strike.

            And then a thump. A thud. 
The whirring stopped, and a low buzzing, fitfull and quiet, replaced it. 
I opened my eyes.

            The monster was on its side, a gash leaking out some horrible liquid. It was twitching, angrily. But it was dying. My sister was waving me in. She’d shot the beast with her catapult, and the porter had followed it with a spear. I cried out my thanks.

            They carried me inside. That night, at the feast, I caught the eye of the princess, and she smiled at me: the boy who’d faced a monster, and lived.