Book Champion: Bailey

Bailey was our very first Book Champion. Now he is eleven years old, in grade 6, and spoke to us about a new favourite book, War Horse by Michael Morpurgo

Can you tell us what the story of War Horse is about?
The story of War Horse is about Albert Narracott and a horse named Joey. The book is set in the horse’s perspective, not in Albert’s perspective. Joey tells you his life, as if you were him. Albert’s father sells Joey to the cavalry to be ridden by Lieutenant Nicholls, who ends up getting killed in action. Then Joey ends up going to the Germans and being looked after Captain Friedrich Muller. Joey runs away after an attack by British, but ends up in no-mans land. The Germans and British wave the white flag, while they cut the barbed wire attached to Joey, then they toss a coin to see how keeps him. The British won the coin toss. They take Joey back to Devon, England and Albert Narracott buys Joey back.

What do you like most about the story?
It’s really good that it has been written in a horse’s perspective because most books are usually written from a human’s perspective. It was interesting to see what the life of a horse was like and what they went through in WW1.

There was a very strong relationship between Albert and Joey.
Could you understand the connection between a boy and a horse?
Yes, because I think everyone that has a horse always has a strong connection with it. It’s the same with anyone and their pet (even though Joey wasn’t really a pet). Albert goes to the war, not to fight, just to try and find Joey. I think this really shows how strong their connection was.

Did you find the story sad or scary at times?
I think it was sort of sad half way through when you didn’t really know what was going to happen. Then again at the end, because you think Joey is going to die.

Did you think the horses were brave during the war?
Yes very brave, especially in this book. The way the horses break through barbed wire to try and help the people that ride them is unbelievable.

Which did you like best: the book, the play or the movie?
I read the book first. I loved the book most definitely! I always think the book is best because it has so much detail that movies and plays just can’t add.

How different was the play or the movie from what you’d  imagined in you head?
I imagined the movie to be very similar, but there were a few bits that were like tearing out pages of the book and re-writing them again. The play was really really similar. Very little was different from the book.

What other Michael Morpurgo books would you recommend?
Butterfly Lion – A great book to read!

Caspar, the Prince of Cats – Great if you are into the Titanic

Alone on a Wide Wide Sea – Great book if you are interested in reading about a little boy being fostered to family in Australia

Toro Toro – Good if you are interested about the Wars in Spain

Farm Boy – If you loved War Horse, this is the sequel – you will love it! Great book!

Running Wild – This is an absolutely fantastic book! About the tsunami in Indonesia.

Little Manfred – Great story about friendship

This Morning I Met a Whale – A good short read.

Creative Conflict

From ‘grrr’ to ‘yay’: Creative collaboration may not be easy, but the results can be satisfying and unique.

Conflict is the gadfly of thought. It stirs us to observation and memory. It instigates to invention. It shocks us out of sheeplike passivity, and sets us at noting and contriving… Conflict is the sine qua non of reflection and ingenuity. John Dewey, American educator and philosopher.

Baker and Smith don’t always agree, but is this really such a bad thing? Short of stomping and screaming, a bit of disagreement can be a productive and positive force, and here’s two reasons why. See if you agree with us.

1. It forces us not to be lazy with our work
Sometimes one of us has worked hard on some particular words and the reaction from Baker or Smith is “Meh! It’s just not doing it for me”. Or “the words look good but they don’t make emotional sense”. Or “I can’t imagine that character saying that”. And the reaction is usually right. Our first choice is not always our best choice – and if it is, we’ve had to actively justify it rather than letting a hackneyed image or a cliched word slide through. We’re always reminded of the lesson of the great writing instructor Robert McKee who says (wildly paraphrasing here) that amateurs can never edit their work because they fall in love with their first draft; professionals are never satisfied.

2.  Difference creates stronger work
Baker is a flitterer, Smith is a craftsman. Baker is a generalist, Smith is a specialist. Baker likes big ideas, Smith can happily work away on details for hours. Baker’s into laissez-faire (is that a fancy French word for lazy?) and Smith likes to work at it. We drive each other nuts on a regular basis.

But when it comes to building a story, Baker is inspired by the big ideas she loves to collect (teleology anyone?), Smith picks up the ball and turns a concept into a beautifully written first draft – but one that we definitely won’t fall in love with. Baker likes to refine and revise, checking the logic seeing what doesn’t fit, what’s missing, where the rhythm is out, where the grammar is wrong. Smith is never happy with the final draft and will keep pushing for improvement, even if it means junking 17 versions and starting the story from scratch. Baker likes to rescue the best parts of early drafts and meld them with the new story. And refine and revise again until eventually we have a story that hopefully children will love to read.

The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker

I know plenty of 40-year-olds that don’t know what they want to be when they grow up. I know kids that know exactly what they want to be.

I remember a 5-year old school friend that wanted to be a fox. I don’t know if it was for the working hours and benefits, the fur, or if it was simply a lifestyle choice, but it was a cool idea. It sure beat my half-hearted plans to be a motorcycle cop, a decision based entirely on the aesthetics of wearing reflective sunglasses and racing around dirt roads while a funky soundtrack was amplified to all my good citizens. The man was in town.

Some top choices by kids: Astronaut, teacher, ballerina, rock star, ninja and …

What did you want to be when you were very young? Let us know.

Dreaming with your feet

Somebody once said there are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them. Actually, many people have said things about dancing, and now Baker and Smith are happily dreaming up their own spin on movement in a little tale about the poetry of the feet.  Matt Davidson has visualised some rough imagery for our story of love, loneliness, joy and a cat and dog.

The Benefits of Daydreaming

Baker and Smith reckon that daydreaming is a bit underrated on the scale of life’s curriculum.

Life seems to start off with us thinking anything is possible before options inevitably narrow and we accept our lot. Freewheeling attitudes in our youth are often a thin veneer for a conservatism ready to take over at ‘a certain age’. One time radical uni-types fall into middle age and demand their cherubs knuckle down or be damned. On the other hand, creativity has had pretty good press in recent years and people are seeing it as one important ingredient for the kit bag you take into the big wide world.

I have had conversations with well meaning parents that list a child’s schedule; maths tutoring, violin lessons, language class, ballet, after school care. ‘I wish they were a bit more creative’ is an occasional admission. Just where you squeeze that in to such a schedule though is the conundrum. Head in the cloud equals free play. Daydreaming can’t be hothoused, and you can’t study it in accelerated units.

Baker Smith has benefitted from staring into the big blue sky, and probably more so than from trying to memorise the table of elements. Daydreaming has solved many of our problems and created useful ideas to incorporate into life. I’m not saying we drift about in a perpetual cumulonimbus bliss reinventing life as we know it, but it’s worth trying sometimes.

Our unofficial list to the benefits of daydreaming:

1. Connecting ideas that may not normally belong together
2. Calm the mind
3. Solve problems
4. Escape
5. Thoughts can become things to benefit the future
6. Cure for boredom (not a result of it)
7. No age barriers
8. Invent new worlds
9. Entertain yourself
10. It’s not cost prohibitive

Can you hear me?

Easter. For me, a time to be with family and friends. A time to communicate. And a time to switch off devices (the new vices) probably. However, a five-year-old and I recently sang into the voice recognition app of a well known tablet device and this caused much merriment during our leisure time together.

‘Twinkle twinkle little star,
how I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle twinkle little star,
how I wonder what you are.’

When recognised by the tablet app became:

You didn’t twinkle twinkle you.
How I wonder what you’re up to.
Above the world, so high.
Are you gay, Dengate?
Are you Islanders?
Twinkle twinkle? Hello, are you? Hey Mr B!!

Delighted to see that millions of hours of software programming had resulted in an app capable of wetting the pants of a five-year-old, we continued …

This little piggy went to market.
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy had roast beef for dinner,
and this little piggy had none.
This little piggy went ‘wee wee wee wee wee all the way home’.

And this became:

Listening to you Intermarket.
This little piggy stayed home.
Are you STMP?
Has Rosengate had dinner?
The bisterd!
Looking at them, and this, is completely where we we we we knew.
All fall. On the way home!

More merriment.

Someone reminded me recently, ‘you have two ears and one mouth. Use them accordingly’. Perhaps the great tablet displayed a virtue and shortcoming in the same beat. It got us laughing while exposing its listening limitations.

Definitely time to switch off devices and to reboot relationships. Time to understand what the people you care about mean when they speak.

Happy Easter. Enjoy your loved ones.

Chatterbox No.9: Rabbiting On

A conversation with a 5-year-old.

Me: What’s going to be the best thing about Easter?
Issy: Ghosts.
Me: Ghosts? What do you mean ghosts?
Issy: Ghosts. Dressing up as a ghost.
Me: Isn’t that for Halloween?
Issy: No, I mean Easter ghosts.
Me: I’ve never heard of them.
Issy: They eat bunnies.

Book Champion: Lola

Lola was three years old when she responded to these Book Champion questions. She recently turned four – Happy Birthday Lola! She lives in Melbourne, Australia.
Her book of choice is Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler.

How many times have you read this book Lola?
Ummm … 6 times.

Why do you like the book?
Because it’s fun!

What is your favourite part?
Cat the dog snap into a cloud, and then the witch heard a roaring and goring and loring growl. They have a big dragon that blows fire out and then a broom and then the witch smashes into roaring cloud and then they snap into a cloud, I like that bit.

Who else would like this book?
Lauren and Charlotte, my cousins.

Have you ever met a witch?
At Kinder I have, with Halloween.

Would you like to ride the witches’ broomstick?
No thanks.

But wouldn’t you like to fly to somewhere?
The beach, yeah! … I mean the park.

The witch nearly gets eaten by the dragon. What do think it looks like inside the dragon’s belly?
Food and yucky and sticky and feathered and furred.

Could you tell us a magic spell?
Yes, magic spell make into a frog and then someone turns into a swan. And then in the princess and the pauper, someone turns into a swan, a magic swan.

How do you do this spell?
I say ‘In my hat!’ And then I get some paper and then I scribble all over it and then I draw a picture!

What do witches like to eat?
Bananas … and apples.
Can I just sing a song now? When I went into the forest I couldn’t even see a broom …

Inside of a Dog

Recently we grappled with a boy character in one of our rough stories. The boy was doing boy-like things with boy-like behaviour, but something was missing from the drafts. We changed the boy character into a dog of uncertain heritage, and voila! The story still worked, and now the character was free to move about in exciting, unexpected ways.

Just how far should the boy be morphed when visualised? Should he be rendered as a regular dog with a collar? A smart casual town dog? Should he have a hint of residual boyishness? After some scribbles, the character had a resolution, of sorts. He would be an upright dog in a pair of sparkling red shoes of course! Although, maybe, he is still actually, kind of a boy underneath that fur – on the inside, waiting to break out. That’s not my read, he looks dog enough to me. Besides, some cigar chomping joker once said that inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.

Monster Bubble