Now, the reason I have been away from blogging is because I was cast away to the depths of the countryside with no internet, for a training course. What can I do?
I came back last night, full of Christmas cheer, and ready to start the Christmas preparations. Only to be met with doooom: my boyfriend has been struck down, in the prime of his festive feelings, with swine flu. [Pause for sympathy.]
Now, when one has the flu, reading a hefty tome just doesn't seem like the most appealing of plans. In fact, sometimes all your brain can manage is some literature for Young Things. This prompted much discussion between the two of us about Diana Wynne Jones – an author we both loved when we were young* – and her best book.
I personally have a soft spot for Tale of Time City, a time-travel adventure with a World War II evacuee being scooped up and taken to the future (by mistake) for some danger and mayhem. Wynne Jones is brilliant: she creates magical worlds and objects, often juxtaposed with 'reality' (see also Black Maria, and Howl's Moving Castle) for extra added 'oomph', but what makes her books really stand out is that blended along with the fantastic are some quite serious themes of friendship, loneliness, family, and old age.
Josh's choice was Archer's Goon, a book I know little about, having never read it. So I sallied forth to procure a copy for the invalid, but alas, I was thwarted at every turn. Not only were there no copies of Archer's Goon in our corner of London – for full disclosure, I went into two proper bookshops and several charity shops – there were no Diana Wynne Jones books stocked at all.
I was actually very surprised. There was plenty of Jacqueline Wilson, Jill Murphy (of Worst Witch fame) and the notorious Stephanie Meyer; but no Diana Wynne Jones. In fact, one of the shop attendants hadn't even heard of her. Distressed, I left the shop with her name and earnestly recommended that they consider stocking her books ("She's not just popular with the kids, she's good!").
I am, though, forced to conclude that Diana Wynne Jones is just not 'hip' any more. A thought that fills me with woe. So I urge you to remind your local bookshop that Diana Wynne Jones is for life, not just for Christmas (in 1985).
P.S. I'd also recommend the film of Howl's Moving Castle. It barely resembles the book (and sometimes suffers for it), but it's nonetheless a beautifully made and very entertaining film.
* I blogged about having found one of her books in a charity shop the other week, so perhaps this post is slightly melodramatic. But I stand by it! Just as one swallow a summer does not make, one Diana Wynne Jones book is simply not enough.
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