I bought this book in mistake for one I’d looked at in a shop in Dorset; except that it wasn’t a mistake, as this one proves far superior. This book is part of the ‘1001… Before You Die’ series, a qualifier hard to apply to children’s books (possibly pointing out the sledgehammer nature of the series title in the first place). So it’s presumably aimed at children, otherwise it would say ‘ …Books You Should Have Read Before You Grew Up’. Yet in her introduction, the compiler is saying that it will help adults to advise children ‘what to read next’. So it now includes adult books which children might enjoy reading (in fact, the ’12-plus’ section of this book begins like a default list of classics, and I regard work by Verne, Searle, Salinger, Bradbury, Mankowitz, Goscinny, Pratchett and others as having been produced for adults, not children. A ‘greatest hits’ collection of Schulz’s Peanuts comes across as a cause celebre: I always thought that the point of the strip was that adult musings were superimposed on to children); and children’s books which adults might enjoy, exponents being Briggs and Pullman. So the scope to which they’ve adhered doesn’t reflect the title – which implies books written specifically for children – and I don’t especially like it, preferring the sincerity of the tragically-late Janet Ahlberg: ‘I draw for the child I was.’ (The Ahlbergs are included but, surprisingly, not ‘Peepo!’).
I’m sounding too critical. This book scores points early on, correctly attributing the classic ‘look’ of Thomas the Tank Engine and friends to little-remembered Leicester illustrator Reginald Payne, who went largely uncredited for creating some of the most famous illustrations of the series, and allegedly suffered a nervous breakdown connected to other work before he could return in time to illustrate any more books.
I’m pleased about the inclusion of ‘Father Christmas’, Raymond Briggs’s own favourite of his books and, for me, his best work; and for resisting the temptation to talk at length about the animated versions of ‘The Snowman’, et al (although FC ‘delivers to everyone, even the Queen [sic]’: well, to Prince Edward, presumably, as he would have been around 9 when the book was published; and The Snowman is ‘warm to the touch’ – is this clear within the wordless tale?)
Kudos also for including the controversial ‘In the Night Kitchen’, my favourite Maurice Sendak book, although the similarity of the chefs to screen star Oliver Hardy seems to have gone unnoticed.
The ‘recaps’ are mostly positive, as though justifying their inclusion; and it does seem as though some of the contributors have hastily returned to books they may have looked at long ago, their reviews seeming to ‘glance off’. Winnie-the-Pooh, for example: ‘merry humour’? More wry, I’d say; and ‘furry’ characters? Really? Piglet? Owl? They’re toys, aren’t they?
Space is understandably limited for each chosen book, and I have to say that, in some cases where one book out of three on a page spread boasts an illustration, I’d have plumped for a different one within the trio, a strong example being the omission of W. Heath Robinson’s original contraptions for Norman Hunter’s Professor Branestawm.
The Rupert Bear reviewer immediately commits a cardinal sin: he’s not Rupert ‘the’ Bear. The spurious definite article was added by an awful pop song and other spin-offs during the 1970s. While I’m glad that he has been included, at least two books are required to do Rupert justice: one from Mary Tourtel, as here, and at least one from Alfred Bestall, the artist whose work many readers will regard as definitive, whether they realise it or not; but we’re about four-fifths of the way through the text before this near-genius is even mentioned. Other artists, particularly John Harrold, at least deserve listing; and the non-definitive list of chums, one of which is spelled incorrectly, reads as though it has been gleaned by peeping into just one annual.
One of your reviewers describes B.B. as ‘mysterious’, but I’m not sure this is an adjective that a former school friend would apply to the somewhat grumpy senior citizen who used to board his Northants library van. There are lots of good things in Denys Watkins-Pitchford’s books, and I respect John Burningham, but in adulthood my view of B.B.'s work is more balanced (and is reflected in my Amazon review of ‘Brendon Chase’) and others.
While I can understand why some of Blyton’s work has missed the cut, it seems unfair to the memory of Harmsen van der Beek, the real talent behind the look and feel of the Noddy books, to omit his work altogether in favour of a poor imitation from Adrian Mole.
Of course this book will include Beatrix Potter, but in the same vein I wouldn’t include Little Grey Rabbit without also honouring Brambly Hedge. Jill Barklem passed relatively young at 66 in 2017, her career curtailed by ill health, having researched, written and drawn work which, for my money, was better than Tempest drew for Uttley. I’ve never met anyone that’s seen Jill’s work and wasn’t immediately grabbed by her talent. The comparative brevity of her career will now almost certainly mean that Barklem will never receive the recognition she deserves.
Enough, though. There are many titles in here that I wouldn’t have chosen, but only because I’ve never heard of them; and, in fact, it would probably have been physically impossible to peruse all 1001 titles, even at 75 years old. This, in itself, does not reduce their right to be included, and some I find intriguing, including American, Australasian and other ‘foreign’ (and home) titles which I shall now Google.
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