Children's Fiction: 10-14 yearsThe tragically early death at 47, in August, of Siobhan Dowd has removed from us one of the most talented and promising of children's writers.
Born in England in 1960 to a Waterford mother and a Kerry father, she attained immediate critical and popular acclaim with her debut young adult novel, A Swift Pure Cry, published in 2006. Drawing for its title on a quotation from Joyce's Ulysses and set in the rural Ireland of the early 1980s, this is a novel replete with a wonderful sense of time and place, casting an illuminating and often poignant light on the theme of societal reaction to teenage pregnancy.
In the course of an address given to the Children's Books Ireland Conference last May she said: "My mother's life, along with my father's, stood as a huge inspiration in writing A Swift Pure Cry. My emergence as a writer is due largely to the stories they told me and perhaps even more to the stories they did not tell me". The novel deservedly came to be nominated for a number of awards in the world of children's books, winning, among others, the Branford Boase Award and, nearer home, the 2006 Bisto Eilís Dillon Award.
Dowd's versatility as a writer becomes very clear with the publication of her second novel, The London Eye Mystery (David Fickling, 323pp. £8.99). At its centre is the resourcefulness of a brother and sister - Ted and Kat - which is put fully to the test when a visiting cousin goes for a ride on the London Eye and, apparently inexplicably, is not to be found when the wheel comes to a stop. The particular fascination of this totally engrossing story lies in the voice of Ted, its narrator. Here is a boy whose "developmental path" has been, according to a doctor, "skewed", though medical opinion also says he is at "the high functioning end of the spectrum". His offbeat response to the world may have earned him the nickname "neek" - a cross between "nerd" and "geek" - but, paradoxically, it is this very response that will bring illumination to the mystery of his cousin's "disappearance". Everything about this book - the perky tone, the subtlety of characterisation and the cleverness of the plotting - is absolutely right. It is also, however, a sad reminder of a writing career so prematurely terminated - though David Fickling Books will publish postumously two further titles by her, one next year and another in 2009.
ALREADY A BESTSELLER in the US and with a film adaptation on the way, Michael Scott's beautifully produced new children's novel, The Alchemyst (Doubleday, 369pp. £12.99), now arrives on this side of the Atlantic. Fans of Scott's earlier children's fiction, particularly that part of it which focuses on re-workings of myth and legend, are going to be delighted with a book which could be described, not too unfairly, as a key to all mythologies, given that it draws on such a wide range of mythological reference - Irish included - and, intriguingly, manages to blend this into a narrative which also features real historical characters. Linking these two colourful domains are Sophie and Josh, American teenage twins, whose summer vacation is considerably enlivened when they become involved in the attempted recovery of a rare 14th-century book.
Whether in demonstrating his ability to grapple with the novel's mythological and historical underpinning or to move convincingly from a shadowy world of Renaissance alchemy into a strictly contemporary era of technological gadgetry, Scott writes with ease and confidence. He succeeds in packing into a mere 48 hours a series of fast-moving and often magical events, in which the twins' youthful resourcefulness is frequently tested against adult greed and duplicity.
OSWALD, THE BOY hero of Andrew Strong's inventive debut novel, Oswald and the End of the World (Scholastic, 299pp. £5.99) is blessed with an idiosyncratic approach to life's unpredictabilities - and finds it more than useful when he and his scallywag father find themselves cast up on the fantasy island known as Idlegreen.
Presided over by the fearsome (and absurdly ridiculous) Judge Butterworth and populated by some very eccentric inhabitants, the island has had its history of dictatorship and exploitation, a state of affairs which the arrival of Oswald and father will eventually affect.
"Like the tides, fortunes come and go," says one of the island's elders and Strong's witty, apocalyptic restoration of insular well-being provides an entertaining, if at times rather convoluted, novel, which will have a special appeal for those who eagerly search the heavens for "signs" and are never quite sure how to interpret them when they appear.
THE THEME OF the vanity of human wishes, touched on by Strong in essentially light-hearted manner, is dealt with much more powerfully (and quite frighteningly in places) in Frances Hardinge's Verdigris Deep (Macmillan, 328pp. £10.99). Here, three children live out the consequences of having removed some coins from a well, consequences which are to have both physical and psychological manifestations. Additionally, the children have to confront "the thing living down the well", the witch who is its guardian spirit, and submit to her demands.
They have also, very painfully, to confront new understandings about themselves, their inter-relationships and the complexities of the adult world: tensions are everywhere and Hardinge depicts them with insight and clarity. Ambitious but extremely worthwhile, this is a novel where the skilfully wrought language and imagery merit careful reading.
FINALLY, A WARM recommendation for the Midnight Feast anthology (HarperCollins, 271pp. £6.99), a generous mixture of some 20 stories and illustrations, not to mention a Jamie Oliver recipe for mini pizzas. Authors represented include such well known names as Helen Dunmore, Neil Gaiman, Anthony Horowitz and Margaret Mahy. The thematic emphasis is on the spooky and supernatural, a genre with which the Irish contributors - Maeve Friel, Oliver Jeffers, Derek Landy and Darren Shan - seem very much at home, though, interestingly, Eoin Colfer opts, in A Polish Christmas, for a touching story in the realistic mode. Part of the proceeds from the collection go to War Child and No Strings, charities working to improve children's lives in the developing world.
Robert Dunbar is a commentator on children's books and reading