A Review By Frances Smith

We all know about the London of Dickens, with child poverty, the workhouse and no safety net for the starving poor.  There are also more recent books about child poverty in India and in South America, but I hadn’t realised that the problem was just as bad in 1870s New York as it was in Dickens’ London. This is a story set against this background of children who were kidnapped in Italy and taken across to New York to beg on the streets for their “Padrones” who were more or less untouchable by law.  Unable to speak English, the children played, sang or just begged on street corners and all the money they made was given to these Fagin-like figures.  But where Fagin actually cared for his children, these Padrones just about kept the children from starving, but gave them very little beyond that.

 In this story, Giuseppe is such a child, a gifted musician who finds a wonderful violin in a shipwreck and tries to keep its existence a secret from his Padrone.  He is trying to earn enough money to buy his passage back to his family in Italy.  He comes across Hannah, who works at The Gilbert Hotel where the housekeeper is the unsmiling Miss Wool.  Hannah is the only member of her family able to work and disaster strikes when Miss Wool dismisses her from her position at the Hotel.

 The third of the “Clockwork Three” of the title is another boy, Frederick, who is apprenticed to a kindly clockmaker.   Together the three children set out on adventure, each holding their own secret and not quite trusting the other two.

 This rather dark fantasy novel is definitely a page-turner which I can certainly recommend.  It was inspired by the true story of a boy called Joseph who in 1873 managed to escape.  He was rescued by a kind old lady who lived in Central Park and was eventually able to expose the corruption and greed of the Padrones to the authorities and the law was changed. I am usually wary of American novels, but this one reads completely fluently with no strange Americanisms to spoil the flow of the story.  The characters are rounded, often horrible or mysterious, and apart from a little magic, completely believable.  Suitable for slightly older readers aged 10+.

To be published October, can be ordered in advance.

A Review By Frances Smith

The subtitle of this story is “The cat that walked by his wild lone” and the dedication at the front is from Rudyard Kipling’s “Just So” stories. The author, Marilyn Edwards has written extensively about her own cats in a two volume collection, “Moon Cottage Cats”  This is her first book for children.

 “White Chin” is released as a kitten into woodlands by someone who no longer wants him as a pet.  The book describes how the domesticated kitten gradually learns to live on his own and becomes more or less feral and mistrustful of humans.  The abandonment is seen by a little girl, Kirstie, who constantly keeps and eye out for Whte Chin’s welfare, but who is not allowed by her parents to introduce yet another pet into their already crowded household.  Children who like pet stories will love this one.  I am always a little wary of anthropomorphism, but the character of White Chin remains true to the actions of a real cat.  He is a complete nuisance to a couple who try to give him a home and two kittens born to his mate also cause endless problems.  Many of the events in the book will be recognised by cat lovers and it will certainly help children realise that a cat as a pet is not a fashion accessory or toy, but a wild animal who choses to live with humans.  It is a lovely story and my misgivings at the start proved to be unfounded.  The book is suitable for children from about eight or nine to early teens.

To be published in August, can be ordered in advance.

A Review By Frances Smith

I could not put this book down.  A gripping Dickensian romp, with a cast full of characters such as, among many others, “Scrope” (obviously not very nice!) “Nick Tick” the clockmaker – very kind;“Smidge”- another nasty piece of work, and “Flora and Dora”, two entertaining dancing fairies.

 Mouse has always lived with Ma and Big Isaac at Roseberry Farm.  Life is hard but enjoyable and although Ma often fosters children, Mouse knows that deep down he is her favourite.  He is not sure that she really is his mother, but he loves her and Isaac, and knows that they love him.  He is wrenched suddenly from this happy security and sent by the mysterious Mr Button to Murkstone Hall, a boarding School for boys run by the unhappy and cruel Bulloughby.  Here Mouse manages to make some friends and learns to cope with all sorts of difficulties.

 The story is written in short chapters, with Mouse’s tale running alongside those of his unknown Uncle, “Old Epsilon”, the story behind the founding of the dreadful school and the machinations of the clever Mr Button.  It owes much to both “Great Expectations” and “Oliver Twist”, but is no worse for that and I would recommend it as a wonderful Christmas gift for any child who enjoys reading from age 8 to 15 (and also to grown ups!).

This book is due to be published on 1st October. You can order it in advance.

A Review By Michael Gasson

The author of this academic yet lucid work,  Professor Seymour Phillips, probably knows more about Edward II than anyone else has ever known, except those closest to the king while he lived. Yet the 613 page biography ends with the question, “Who was Edward II?”. It is indicative of the humility of the writer, which pervades the work: he lets you know what is conjecture, what is evidence, and what lies in between, and does not impose his view. While this leaves us with a more elusive subject it also, interestingly, undermines certainties and makes this biography a treasure trove for anyone such as myself who has an interest in the ‘failed’ monarchs of later medieval British History – from William II and John through to Henry VI and Richard III, via, of course, Richard II.

It turns out that the popular view (also often reiterated by historians themselves) of Edward II as an entirely incompetent, stupid, wife-hating homosexual who died at the end of a red hot poker, is a travesty.

We have little information about Edward II’s education, but there is substantial evidence for his and his regime’s support for universities and it could be said that Edward pioneered royal patronage of Oxford and Cambridge; he enjoyed the company and lifestyle of those in holy orders (for which he was criticised) and was in particular a patron of the Dominicans; he could be witty, was certainly patient, remained courageous in adversity, and could be a bold public speaker; he fought for the rights and dignity of the crown, but did not see it as beneath him to enjoy the company and work of ordinary labouring people (again, something which was held against him); he employed able administrators; while he was no general, he was undoubtedly martial; he was – and remains – famous for some impetuous defeats, but it has not been recognised that during his reign England was saved from possible annihilation as a legacy of the extreme policies and ruthless practices of his over-mighty and over-acclaimed father, Edward I, towards England’s neighbours; he was tenacious and wily, being able at times to outmanoeuvre his internal enemies in lengthy negotiation and the field; he was not without international diplomatic skills; he restored the treasury to wealth, left empty by Edward I’s bellicose activities, in spite of massive taxation; he was almost certainly a devoted husband for much of his married life (his wife, Queen Isabella, who helped to depose him, asked nevertheless for her husband’s heart to be buried with her, which it was); he sired four legitimate children and, before his marriage, an illegitimate child (who was fully recognised by him); and there is no evidence that he was homosexual or, more accurately-speaking, bisexual (or died at the end of a poker), however much he enjoyed the comradeship of men.

So why did Edward II fail so spectacularly (the first post-conquest monarch to be successfully deposed and killed), and leave such a caricatured and contradictory image – vilified from his own time yet also put forward as a candidate for sainthood?

The author shows us that there were reasons of circumstance and reasons of character, and links between these, which together, nevertheless, cannot add up to a neat explanation. Edward inherited warfare, a disaffected ruling class, an empty treasury, and some over-mighty subjects, notably his cousin, jealous of Edward’s position. Edward indulged in revenge after years of patience. The empty treasury latterly encouraged him to go to illegal extremes against the defenceless, often widows, to restore royal wealth and unnecessarily increase that of his favourites. Most of all, and most dramatically, he failed intellectually and emotionally to understand the need for leadership to seek a political consensus, to have advisers rather than favourites. But why this was so, the author leaves it to the reader to surmise; and, as usual with Edward, it was not the whole picture, as he did sometimes take good advice and seek consensus. So, even at a key point of understanding, we are left with an enigma, one onto which the author does not insist on trying to impose explanation.

While ‘Edward II’ will be the definitive account of its subject for some time, a work of reference for university level and beyond, and is at times over-detailed for the casual reader, it nevertheless provides fully comprehensible, lively and, often wry and witty reading. Most importantly, as with good theatre, it works with the audience, avoiding the imposition of answers yet providing the materials from which readers can draw their own conclusions in determining their view of this deeply flawed yet, in some ways, surprisingly appealing monarch.