Samantha Wheeler’s latest novel for younger readers, Wombat Warriors, follows on from the conservation theme she introduced in her last book Mister Cassowary. Set in regional South Australia, Mouse is a reserved girl from Brisbane who comes to stay with her Aunt Evie when a family emergency forces her parents to take an unexpected trip overseas. Life down south is a change for Mouse who must not only contend with the colder climate but with her somewhat eccentric Aunt whose household includes a duck and a wombat! While she is initially threatened by the idea of sharing her home with a wombat, the pair form a special bond that challenges Mouse to find her voice.
As a proud South Aussie, I was somewhat horrified (and a little confronted) to read about the plight wombats in this part of the country. I must confess that prior to reading this story I had no idea about the environmental challenges facing our state emblem. Indeed, particularly for children in this part of the country, this story has a wonderful relevance that will make it a valuable addition to the classroom environment. With accessible language, children in the lower to middle years of primary school will enjoy reading this story independently. Similarly, it could be shared with a class group as part of the HASS curriculum. I did feel that the immaturity of the protagonist may alienate a few slightly older readers who might have otherwise appreciated the conservation theme of the book.
Wombat Warriors will sit neatly alongside Mister Cassowary as an engaging story that will inspire children across to find their voice and work actively for the conservation of threatened species.
Tanya Grech Welden
Is it just me or do decent short story anthologies always seem to be in short supply? At least they have in every school I have ever worked in. At my current school, the one we presently use is well-thumbed, dog eared and nearly beyond repair. The fact that it is now out-of-print means that it is impossible to replace, although to be fair we probably need a break from the stories anyway. Since every English teacher uses short stories we always seem to be on the look-out for something fresh. We want something that not only our students will relate to, but something with that unique Australian flavour. I was therefore pretty chuffed to find Brian Falkner’s new book appear in my mailbox.
My first impression of the package was positive. With a monochromatic cover, littered with graffiti scrawl and pops of vibrant yellow, this is an edgy book that will appeal to the current YA market. I must confess though, that the front-page quote by James Roy, did lead me to suspect (or hope?) that this collection might move into the realm of speculative or perhaps gothic fiction. It doesn’t generally do this. Instead, the darkness that Roy refers to is that which evolves from a very contemporary context. After all, some of the best contemporary YA is dark, a little menacing, with a good dose of gritty.
Overall, I found the stories in the collection highly readable. The reality that many stories are hinged on the fears of many young people (fear of death, growing old, disease) will be sure to provoke engagement and discussion in the classroom environment. I especially appreciated the endnotes relating to the origin of each of the stories. Students, particularly our aspiring writers, always seem to enjoy hearing about what inspires great writers. In this light Falkner’s message was clear, when writing stories (as our students almost always do after reading an anthology such as this one) it is best to draw inspiration from one’s own experience.
That Stubborn Seed of Hope is a captivating collection of beautifully crafted stories that will entertain and inspire Young Adults aged 14+.
Tanya Grech Welden
Olive’s Dad is sad. In fact, she can’t remember a time when he wasn’t this way, carrying a sadness that is so great that Olive can only imagine it as a heavy grey elephant. With the assistance of her best friend Arthur and her grandfather, Olive is determined to chase away her father’s elephant and bring joy and light into all their lives.
Told in sparse, aching prose, The Elephant while primarily targeted at younger children, will speak to a broad audience on universal themes focusing on grief, loss and the heavy cloud that is depression. Younger, more capable readers will appreciate the accessible language that is pleasantly interspersed with appealing images. While the subject matter of this story is inherently dark the overwhelming message is one of hope. That said, this is a story best used selectively (and cautiously) in the classroom with it best placed as a text for sharing in small intimate groups.
In many ways The Elephant needs to come with a warning. I’m talking of the kind of warning that alerts poor, unsuspecting parents to a need for Kleenex and the strong likelihood that you will fall apart at some point while reading this book to your child. I don’t say this to be a negative Nancy. In fact, it serves to highlight the success of what Peter Carnavas has achieved in this deceptively simple and captivating story. The Elephant is a timeless and memorable tale that will deeply move and delight readers of all ages.
Tanya Grech Welden
In my first year of teaching I learned the value of a carefully chosen picture book for the purposes of introducing a topic or addressing tricky issues. Seventeen years later, I have a growing stash of these that I continue to revisit with students in the secondary classroom across a range of subject areas. As an English specialist, I continue to appreciate the accessibility of these texts, the many layers of reading they encourage as they engage captive audiences in a reading activity that nearly always harnesses a range of interpretative skills. Picture books are a blessing for the time poor educator. They tick many boxes and set the scene for a high level of student engagement.
First published in Canada, Stepping Stones, is a welcome addition to my personal collection and is one that I will draw upon for use in the English, HaSS and Religious Education classroom. Told in both English and Arabic, and narrated by a young girl, Rama; we follow her experience of persecution, death and loss in their war-torn homeland, her families’ escape, journey by foot and their crossing of an unforgiving sea to their eventual, albeit bittersweet, liberation. While clearly drawing from recent history with the story illuminating the experiences within the Syrian context, the tale might easily be supplanted into another setting. Nizar Ali Badr’s artwork which utilises stacked stones to recreate scenes in the story, is culturally neutral, thus inviting a transposing of other refugee narratives. Within the Australian context, I imagine that educators might specifically draw upon experiences of the Vietnamese and Cambodian ‘boat-people’. Similarly, Christian communities would certainly draw parallels to Gospel narratives (Matt 2:13-14) concerning the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt.
The provision of both English and Arabic text adds additional linguistic dimension to the story that could be readily exploited by students as an extension activity. While I would use this text exclusively in the secondary classroom, it will appeal to older primary students and, with discretion, may be an effective tool for engaging dialogue with new arrivals in our school communities. The story will certainly find its place in many of our Syrian and Middle-Eastern communities in Australia with many families likely to embrace it as a vehicle for intergenerational sharing and a celebration of language.
I commend Stepping Stones as a text that provides an authentic voice for educators who seek to promote cultural diversity, while engaging frankly with their students on issues related to refugees and asylum seekers.
Tanya Grech Welden
Every year as an educator I inevitably teach at least once a unit in Human Sexuality to a group of year 8 or 9 students. As part of this program we explore the gender and the general differences in brain function between the sexes. It never ceases to amaze students that in males the part of the brain which predicts unfavourable outcomes is less developed in teenage boys than their female counterparts. Of course, as educators we know this too well, seeing this played out on a daily basis with the boys that we work with.
“Why did you do that?”
The subject, a year 10 boy shrugs his shoulders.
“What were you thinking?” We probe a little further.
“Nothing.” Comes the emphatic response.
Nothing is probably the best description of what was going through the adolescent brain the moment the chair (or fist or rock) was thrown through the window. Impulsivity is characteristic of many teenage boys and the impact of such an episode is the core focus of Nova Weetman’s latest YA offering Everything is Changed. The novel tells the story of Jake and Alex, best mates who, in a moment of spontaneity, make a mistake that will change the course of their lives forever. Told in reverse the novel tracks back through events and documents how their lives, and those around them, literally fall apart.
Everything is Changed is suitable for use with students in the middle years of secondary school. I imagine that grade 10 will be the sweet spot for this. With engaging language and a cast of characters that students will easily identify with, this is a story that doesn’t preach. The story speaks for itself and will no doubt evoke an emotional response in students while also providing rich content for debate and discussion. In light of this I would definitely flag this as a wonderful text for shared class reading. Similarly, it would work well in smaller reading circles. Of course, in terms of text construction, the story provides wonderful opportunities to discuss how the reverse telling of the story contributes to our understanding of the key themes and ideas. Students might also appreciate comparisons with other film and prose texts that also challenge the convention of a linear and chronological narration; Pulp Fiction for example.
Everything is Changed is a compelling read with a grittiness that will strike a chord with adolescent readers. I imagine that many of these readers will find its accuracy haunting, as they will no doubt draw parallels between Jake and Alex and their own experiences.
Tanya Grech Welden
The Leopard Princess is the second book in the series titled The Tales of Jahani by acclaimed South Australian author Roseanne Hawke. Following on directly from Daughter of Nomads, I highly recommend that readers will continue with this only after reading the first book. Unlike some series, which can be read in any order, I suspect that The Leopard Princess may fail to resonate if read in this way. I assume that the publisher made the decision to separate what was one rather long book into two smaller ones as they feared a younger YA audience may feel overwhelmed by such a large book. This was probably the right decision although I feel that both books could easily be bundled together in one volume and pitched successfully at an older audience.
Feel free to read my earlier review of Daughter of Nomads here. The Leopard Princess picks up the story in the Autumn of 1662. Jahani remains in hiding from her jilted fiancée, the cruel Muzahid Baig and the tyrannical Dagar Khan. With the constant risk of capture and increasing fear of retribution upon the nomadic people who are hiding her, Jahani knows that she must travel through the mountains to the northern kingdoms in an effort to secure peace for the region and realise her destiny. Continuing on from Daughter of Nomads, The Leopard Princess develops themes and ideas that explore good versus evil, triumph against adversity, in addition to the quest for one’s identity. The Leopard Princess also asks pertinent questions about love, leadership, followership, courage and self-sacrifice.
With plenty of action, a sprinkling of romance and just enough magic to make things interesting, I imagine that this book will appeal to readers in the middle years. Certainly, as Jahani moves further into adolescence, I envisage that older teens and many adults will also discover plenty to relate to. As with, Daughter of Nomads, this story provides unique opportunities for Asian perspectives, particularly to a History unit focusing on the Middle Ages and Renaissance period (which is too often Eurocentric). I imagine that students might appreciate the opportunity to compare the life of Elizabeth I with Jahani, contrasting the challenges and limitations faced by women in positions of authority at this time.
While The Leopard Princess neatly draws to a conclusion the quest begun in Daughter of Nomads, I will live in hope that Hawke will decide to write a third book in this series. After all, there are still plenty of adventures to be had for Jahani and Azhar. I’d also be keen to read a story written exclusively from the perspective of Azhar, especially one which explores a time before the events in books 1 and 2.
Tanya Grech Welden
The thing which keeps drawing me back to YA fiction is its innate propensity to gently address the questions of the time through the medium of the ‘quiet story’. These wonderful stories of ‘real people’ often have the ability to speak to a young audience in profound and lasting ways. It is a style of writing that many Australian authors seems to excel at with writers such as Cath Crowley and Vikki Wakefield leading the way with on the international stage. Elizabeth Kasmer’s debut novel Becoming Aurora is yet another example of YA fiction that will quietly serve to challenge and inspire our youth.
Sixteen-year-old Rory (Aurora) has herself in a real pickle. Caught up with the wrong crowd, and following her involvement in a racially motivated gang attack on the local immigrant community, she finds herself the sole person implicated and charged for the crime. Refusing to reveal the names of her accomplices, Rory takes the rap for the deed and spends her entire summer undertaking community service at the local aged care home. It is here that she meets resident and ex-boxer Jack, an encounter that leads her to Essam, a young migrant boxer who will both challenge her prejudices and force her to address the mistakes of her past.
Becoming Aurora provides a brutally honest depiction of an Australia that is inherently racist. Kasmer leads readers into a discourse surrounding how it is we currently define what it means to be Australian and how our understanding of this identity needs to evolve to encompass what is a growing cultural diversity. Ultimately, however, this is a story about reconciling one’s past with one’s future, seeking and offering forgiveness and finding peace with oneself in the shadow of grief and loss.
Written with tremendous sensitivity in thoughtful prose, Becoming Aurora will both challenge and delight, finding its audience, with students in the middle to upper end of secondary school. Becoming Aurora is one of those books which, while not making me proud to be an Australian; makes me feel hopeful about the direction we might go, should we be brave enough to accept the challenge.
Tanya Grech Welden