I first read Jane Eyre at the age of eleven, and my main memories of that first reading are of the harshness and horror of Jane’s treatment at Lowood school,  the death of her friend Helen, and, later, of Jane creeping around the dark corridors of Thornfield Hall. Much of the rest passed me by. I was too young, just as I was too young to appreciate Pride and Prejudice at school a year later; I toiled dutifully through that. When I returned to it, years later, I was amazed to find all the wit and humour that simply hadn’t struck me at the age of twelve. At that age, too, I read The Diary of Anne Frank with only the vaguest idea of why the family had to go into hiding.

Early reading has a particular power, though, and it intrigues me that stories read years ago make their impact in my own writing, in ways I sometimes don’t realise until afterwards. The Secret Garden has made itself felt in Nevermore, for instance, and Lob (the title taken from a poem of the same name by Edward Thomas) owes something to Bambi  - I mean the deeply tragic novel by Felix Salten, not the Disney film – though I don’t suppose anyone else would notice.

With Set in Stone, the influences are more obvious. Its debt to The Woman in White is apparent from the opening scene, in which Samuel meets a distraught Marianne by moonlight. The country house, the two daughters, the art tutor – a direct borrowing. Another Wilkie Collins novel gave me a structural idea, too – the less well-known No Name, the intriguing and very cleverly plotted story of two sisters who find themselves penniless when their father’s Will reveals that he wasn’t married to their mother, as they had supposed. In No Name, Collins uses the device of carrying the plot forward with whole chapters, at intervals, made up of letters. I used this same technique in Set in Stone, though with only one letter each time, and enjoyed the freedom and succinctness of using different voices to drop new hints or ingredients into the plot: Charlotte, the governess, is unexpectedly called away; a friend of Samuel’s invites him to Brighton, recalling his gregarious student days; Mr Farrow issues a veiled threat to his former employee.

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I was thrilled to hear that DFB was doing a prequel to Frankenstein (This Dark Endeavour is by Canadian author Kenneth Oppel – who was a bit of a child prodigy in the children’s book world like Mary Shelley herself who wrote Frankenstein at age 18) – but when I read the synopsis, I realized that – because it’s a prequel – it is highly likely that one important thing might be missing from the book: Frankenstein’s monster! Say it isn’t so!

1831 engraving for Mary Shelley’s book reveals a buff monster

I’ve loved Frankenstein’s monster since I saw the black and white movie starring Boris Karloff … and I’ve weirdly identified with monsters of that ilk throughout my reading and movie watching life.

You know, the kind of monster whose grotesque exterior conceals a human soul? Read the rest of this entry »

Presenting a renowned or favourite story in a new format, style or setting always seems to me a very brave thing to do.  Experimenting with a familiar idea  to show a new side of it, or drawing out something from a ‘classic’ story and into something fresh – it’s a delicate and complex business.   Kenneth Oppel’s new book – THIS DARK ENDEAVOUR – is a prequel to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; telling the story of Victor Frankenstein’s life as a teenager.  It is a brooding, alluring thriller and a consuming read.  We’re publishing THIS DARK ENDEAVOUR on October 6th - and I can’t wait for readers to get hold of it.  

In reference to this fascinating new book, I’ve asked our Storybloggers – DFB authors and illustrators all - to share their favourite ‘classic’ with us, and tell us about any story adaptations they find particularly interesting.

So, watch this space…

I really can’t think of any bad luck I’ve had lately, which is a good thing, although it makes continuing a rolling blog based on funny ‘bad luck’ or unfortunate misunderstandings rather tricky. I recently had a spot of good luck, though; a most fortuitous find that has helped shape the look of my latest book, but might have set me an impossible task for the future!

With the last of Charlie Small’s adventures just published, I was starting to think about the exciting escapades of his younger cousin, Alfie. The books are to be the adventure journals of a very young explorer, and I really want to include photographs of some of Alfie’s finds.  Maps will be no problem, and a handful of fur from a Stone Age boy’s clothing might be had, courtesy of a moth-eaten coat handed down from my wife’s great grandmother (or even next door’s long-haired cat if I can coax it over the fence!) But some things are not supplied so easily.

I had written the outline of the first of Alfie’s stories, which stars a hook-nosed, cutlass-wielding pirate called Bonedust. Here’s a sketch of the dastardly buccaneer:

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Many of you will know Philip Pullman’s stories of Lyra, Pantalaimon and Will, and the many worlds they travel through.  You may also be familiar with Sally Lockhart’s adventures in Victorian London.. but have you met The New Cut Gang?

Who better to introduce them than the author himself?  Click on the links below to watch footage of Philip talking about The New Cut Gang’s adventures – ! These fantastic stories are out now, together with charming pictures by Horrible Histories illustrator, Martin Brown.  Get your hands on The Adventures of The New Cut Gang!

An introduction!  

Who are the characters?

Where are the books set? 

Fan questions, answered

Questions from Philip’s editor, David Fickling

Philip reads a comic extract from The Adventures of The New Cut Gang

http://www.philip-pullman.com/

I had just done three busy days at the Edinburgh Festival last year (carefully working, yes, around my dodgy back). It was my last morning and I was having a lovely leisurely breakfast in the bay window of the posh (for me) hotel I’d been put in. A pleasant youngish middle-aged woman came and sat, like me, alone, at the table adjacent to mine. She was dressed very casually in a downbeat way, short hair, jeans, trainers, shirt and obviously, like me, intended to have the full English (Scottish?) breakfast.

We got chatting and rapped on about all kinds of things: our children, books (of course), what we’d read as children and in our teens, schools, education (we’d both been teachers), marriage, life (big one, that…) and it became apparent as she anecdotalised that, like me, she was a writer. Time was getting on and while I had plenty she obviously had business to attend to. She looked at her watch and said, “Gosh, I’d better be going or I’ll be late.”

We quickly swapped names and neither of us had come across the other’s work. But I’m used to that. The number of times I’ve had to say to writers, “Of course I know your name as well as the titles of some of your books. But I’m afraid I’ve never actually read you. I hope you don’t mind that.” But in this case I had to say, “Well, there are so many of us.” It was clear by then that she was an adult (ie. not children’s) novelist and, although I read adult novels I don’t ‘follow form’. I just read very selectively when individual books really appeal to me and keep me held. But I clocked her name to check out later. Read the rest of this entry »

I have had so many embarrassing incidents to deal with they have become unremarkable. As a part-time musician, every week seems to offer an interesting new way of making an idiot of oneself in public; the trick is to carry on regardless, pretend nothing horrendous has occurred and save the squirming and self-loathing for later.

Consequently, I am going ‘off-brief’ to talk about Trolls.

I recently had the pleasure of illustrating the cover of Conrad Mason’s The Demon’s Watch, which features a pair of identical Troll twins. To get me in the mood I did some research and looked through some of my favourite Troll artists (if this article becomes tedious, skip to the end and click on some of the links for some visual treats).

In Norse mythology, Trolls began life as the offspring of Ymir, the Frost Giant. They were said to be of huge size, varied in appearance and temperament; generally more like gods than the bridge-bothering creatures of folklore we recognise today.

Gradually they settled into the mythic landscape as a race of beings representative of the elements; sometimes benevolent, sometimes mischievous, sometimes downright vicious. They lived in societies of their own, in hollow hills, forests and wild mountainous regions. Read the rest of this entry »

Photography is my favourite hobby.  I love it because it doesn’t involve words.  When you spend every day writing words, it’s nice to get away from them sometimes!  And pictures can still tell a story.  Photography has helped me see so many strange and interesting things; things I would never have noticed otherwise.

I enjoy prowling around city streets at night with my camera, trying to see things from different points of view.  Sometimes I imagine them from a street cat’s point of view, as if I was Varjak Paw, or one of his friends.  What would the city really look like to them? Read the rest of this entry »

I’m very excited to be here on the DFB blog! Thinking about misunderstandings and bad luck reminded me of this little story I wrote a while ago. It was supposed to be the start of a bigger story, but that never quite took off. Maybe I’ll come back to it some day. Until then, I hope you enjoy The Rat Catchers:

The Rat Catchers

‘There is only one rule,’ said the steward. ‘Do not touch this suit of armour.’

It didn’t look so special to me. There were ten or twelve other suits around the great hall, propped up on display like headless guards. Every one of them looked the same.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Why?’

The great hall belonged to Baron Kal, and this was the first time we’d ever been inside. Me, Sky and Ditchwater – we’re trappers. No vermin too big, vicious or smelly. And that was good, because this far north, a lot of animals get tainted by the magic which seeps from the Unquiet Marshes. It makes the average pest really big, really vicious and really smelly.

‘This suit,’ said the steward, ‘was enchanted by the sorceress Gelda. In addition to the sentimental value, it can withstand any blow from any weapon. Needless to say, it is excessively valuable. The Baron would be . . . inconsolable if anything were to happen to it. Is that clear?’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But, I mean, if it’s such fantastic armour, how could we damage it?’ The steward’s nostrils flared. ‘Um, never mind. Got it. We’ve all got it. The suit by the doorway, third from the left.’

Ditch nodded. Sky was busy examining a tapestry on the wall, looking faintly disgusted. He prodded the material, and the steward winced. ‘So,’ I said, hastily. ‘This wheezer. Tell us about it.’

The steward took a deep breath. You could tell he was starting to crack, and it was mostly thanks to Sky. Our eldest brother kept stopping to frown at mirrors, scuff mud on the floor, pick things up and put them down in the wrong places.

‘There was an incident in the kitchens, two weeks ago. A serving girl was chopping vegetables when the wheezer came out of the fireplace. Then a rather more unfortunate occurrence, during a feast. The creature floated in through the window, and we had to encourage it back outside with dining chairs.’ Read the rest of this entry »