Katie, Caroline and Mary. Daughter, Mother and Grandmother. Three generations of women all grappling with their own problems find their lives are more infinitely linked than they ever thought possible. I was initially surprised when I started reading this voluminous young adult novel, to find it kicking-off with the story of an old lady with dementia (Mary) and in fact the second chapter is told in Mary’s voice as she struggles to decipher where she is and who is taking care of her. Is this what teenagers are wanting to read? Yes. It should be.

This novel deals eloquently with loss in its many forms. Mary has lost her loving husband and her understanding of time and history is slipping through her fingers. Caroline has lost her own husband to a younger woman, and the ghosts of her Mother's taboo pregnancy haunt her. Trying to piece together the fragments in between is Katie; all while juggling the stress of exams under Caroline’s strict gaze, looking after Mary and also her little brother who has special needs. Not to mention she has just kissed her best friend, Esme, and as a result no longer has any friends at school.

We come to see how fragile the relationships between several generations are. Everyone who supports needs to be supported in some way themselves and this book captures that beautifully. The author skilfully navigates the murky waters of Mary’s mind, the fear in Caroline and the blossoming curiosity, sexuality and ‘fire’ in young Katie as she discovers who she is and more importantly, who she wants to be.

We clearly see the burdens felt by those who are ageing and relying on their families; the tired parent who is struggling under the weight of emotional stresses whilst trying to do their very best for their children; and the child whose world is only beginning to extend beyond that of their own four walls, social bubble and school, in turn struggling to support their parent.

The characters are vivid and alive in this story: Mary’s passion for life and having a bit of fun; Caroline’s drained emotional state, raw at the sudden appearance of her estranged mother; and the tangible electricity between Katie and her new acquaintance Simona, all keep the pages turning at a brisk pace.

Katie gently navigates her way through the lack of understanding and memory of what happened between Caroline and Mary all those years ago, by encouraging Mary to look into her past, finally getting them to sit face-to-face and hash it out in the final pages. As for Katie, she finds both resolution and new beginnings.

Published by David Fickling Books
@DFB_storyhouse
@jenny_downham

Every so often, a real gem comes along and tugs on my heartstrings. Michael Morpurgo's My Father is a Polar Bear is one of them. Newly released in picture book format by Walker Books, with illustrations by Felicita Sala, this captivating story was originally published in a collection of short stories, From Hereabout Hill, in 2000.

A masterful storyteller,  Morpurgo skillfully draws from his own childhood experience in his telling the story of two little boys, Andrew and Terry, as they attempt to find their biological father. From the very first line 'Tracking down a polar bear shouldn't be that difficult', we are acutely aware that we are inside the head of a young child in pursuit of an elusive father figure. Admirably, Morpurgo doesn't tiptoe around this as we so often find with 'sensitive' issues in children's books. He very deliberately dives in head-first. Two pages in, he gives us the story of the boys' parents' relationship, from the point of view of Andrew looking back from his adulthood, 'Some background might be useful here. I was born, I later found out...'. His use of the first person, past-tense narrative, allows us to dive in to memories from Andrew's childhood in real-time but to also appreciate that we are looking back from some future point.

Andrew tells us how his 'real' father is never talked about by his mother or step-father. All they know is that they were given his name; Van Diemen. Andrew and Terry are forced to discuss him in the secret hours of the night. On one such occasion, Terry produces a magazine with a photo from a theatre production of 'The Snow Queen', on one of it's spreads. A polar bear poised with arms reaching out sprawls over the pages; the caption below revealing the actor under the suit to be none other than their missing father, Peter Van Diemen. Throughout the story, their father is referred to by them as 'the polar bear father', reflecting the impact of this first discovery.

It's the use of time in this story that I found to be particularly affecting. Time, as we know, slips from our fingers all too readily. The story starts in 1948, with references to shillings and the second world war, when Andrew is 5 years old. It's at this stage that Morpurgo reveals the approach the family takes to the boys father: 'My first father, my real father, my missing father, became a taboo-person, a big hush-hush taboo person that no one ever mentioned, except for Terry and Me.'

The years roll on and we see a brief glimpse of the boys father on the television some fourteen years later- to which his mother shouts out in surprise, confirming his identity. The boys approach her for more information soon after, but her reluctance to entertain her past is too powerful, as is so often the case when we want to move on. We can all too easily forget the consequences for those around us, as this story powerfully conveys.

Morpurgo expresses the deep-felt sense of a partial identity, with true craft, in the closing pages. The boys, now adults with their own families, finally go to see their father. 'There was a lot of hugging in the dressing room that night, not enough to make up for all those missing years, maybe. But it was a start'. The very idea that there can be a start so much closer to the end is highly telling. This was always the beginning for the boys - the beginning of their history - and their identity.

Morpurgo's own feelings are perfectly executed by his words: 'It's history best crusted over, I think.' The use of the word 'crusted' alone provokes a sense of a weeping wound, though an old one that's now healing. He points out that Andrew's grandchildren refer to their grandpa as 'Grandpa Bear' because 'they all know the story of their Grandpa, I suppose.' In the closing pages Andrew playfully tells us that he recently wrote a story about a polar bear, 'I can't imagine why'. These closing remarks resonate how important his father was to him, throughout his life.

This exquisite feat of storytelling completely transports us into the world of Andrew and Terry, and that of Morpurgo as an adopted child. It captures perfectly the lingering sense of loss, missing identity and isolation that an adopted child can feel. Some children don't want to know or need to know about their biological parents: my own father was adopted and for him, his story firmly lies with his adopted, or 'real' parents as he sees it. That was his choice, and one which was his from a very young age. Morpurgo's story does not dictate to the reader how to deal with adoption or single-parenthood; it simply seeks to share an experience. As the best stories do.

Sounds like fun! How did you come up with the idea for the book?

It all began with some rabbit bookmarks I screen-printed for a craft fair! The rabbits were all printed in bright colours and were wearing 'I love books' t-shirts. I wanted to write a book about loving books and I remembered how I looked forward to Saturday trips to the library when I was little, so Ralfy's character began to develop from there really.

It’s lovely that you drew inspiration from your own childhood. How do you go about creating the book as both the writer and illustrator?

If I have an idea for a character in mind I start in my sketchbooks – that's if I haven't got attached to an animal I've previously created for a greeting card or screen printed plush for a craft fair which I want to bring into a book. I rarely start with the text before having an idea of what I want my character to look like, but that being said, I do have a list of funny book titles and story lines I'm saving for a rainy day! Then, once I've talked with my publisher about what the character is going to be like and roughly what the structure of the story will be, I work with my editor on the text, before moving onto the roughs which I then send down to my editor and designer and wait for feedback. After that I move onto inking the final artwork, sometimes I do two or three of each illustration and then pick the best. Then I post all the artwork to my publisher and it then gets scanned and all pieced together with the text by the designer. If the text seems too long we cut it back to let the illustrations breathe. It's quite a long process but so much fun!

Hearts will break over the pictures of little Biff - howling at the moon from his kennel, little ears dropping, sad brown eyes sparkling - as he is constantly being told he isn’t supposed to do ballet. Surely he is going to give up on his life-long dream? But Biff has another idea. Being one determined pooch, he sneaks along to the ballet. All is going well in the show when, suddenly, disaster strikes and the ballerina crashes to the floor. But the show must go on… is this Biff’s moment?

This brilliant debut book from Anna Kemp teaches children to accept others and themselves as they are. It’s fun, charming and thoughtful and the vibrant illustrations by Sarah Ogilvie give the characters bundles of energy and life. Sure to become a household favourite to all who read it!