Tell me a story

Robert Nye

There is a sense in which there are all too many books for children, and all too few

stories. The difference is not simply a matter of memorability. " Tell me a story!" cries the child, anxious to share something with the

parent or teacher, eager to participate in the essentially immediate and personal drama of a good tale given directly to him; but the

number of works that lend themselves to this treatment is limited; the exquisite narratives of Walter de la Mare, for instance, read superbly but do not tell at all. But listen to

this:

Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep, and plenty of money for Tom to earn and his master to spend. He could not read nor write, and did not care to do either; and he never washed himself. . . .

That is the Start of The Water-Babies, by Charles Kingsley, first published in 1863, now

made available in an abridged edition in paperback (Pan 60p). Never mind Kingsley's evangelical designs upon us — they are not allowed to interfere with some spry prose, and this text in any case has illustrations by Mabel Lucie Attwell, dating from 1915, which turn

Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby into an archetype of the Eternal Feminine, in a soft sort of way, an effect which the author would certainly disapprove. I note that the original has here been 'edited by Capt Edric Vredenburg, Tenth London Regiment,' which may mean more to aficionados than it does to me. This is without doubt the version which I remember being told — minus, as the Captain informs us in his preface, "many allusions to men and topics . . . which, while interesting then, would not now be understood." It is dated, quaint, and deeply moral. It is also very suitable for reading aloud to the under-fives. The same audience, if fairly sophisticated, will also like How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin (Macmillan £1.50), which has its words exactly as Rudyard Kipling wrote them, plus some lively pictures by Leonard Weisgard. This is one of the 'Just So stories. The tellers and the told can both have pleasure from prose like this: "He said nothing whatever about the Parsee's cake, because he had eaten it all; and he never had any manners, then, since, or henceforward."

Pinocchio, with illustrations by Sakura Fujita and text by Ann Herring (Hart-Davis £1.35) and Jack and the Beanstalk, in which the text is again by Ann Herring (Hart-Davis 0.35), are worthy attempts to present traditional material in read-aloud form. I prefer the first, simply because it makes imaginative use of collage in its illustration, while the pictures in the second seem to be coloured photographs of puppets — 'direction by Ryuhei Watanabe' it says on the title page, as though books are things that will slip out of the television set when you aren't watching. Another volume in the series, The Foxes and the Horse-Dealer, adapted by Kenichi Mizusawa, with illustrations by Daihachi Ohta (Hart-Davis £1.35), returns to the standards of the Pinocchio in that its pictures are at one with its subject-matter — a Japanese fairy story with drawings that look like bits of knockabout Noh theatre.

In Paddy's Evening Out (Macmillan 95p) John S. Goodall has dispensed with words

altogether. A pig falls out of his box at the music hall, in pursuit of his companion's fan,

and gets all involved in the action on stage, in trying to keep out of it. Facing pages, complete in themselves with picturest are separated by half-pages in which Paddy the pig steals the show. The idea is clever, and it works. You may feel obliged to utter a word or two, so rich is the colour on the pages, so fruitfully Edwardian the whole thing, but the book is a boon a) for literate parents who find the texts of most children's books offensive, b) for anyone with a sore throat.

In the longer rainy-day books department, Stories for Five-Year-Olds, edited by Sara and Stephen Corrin (Faber £1.50) is good value. Both traditional and contemporary material is included. Folk tales from various countries appear alongside stories by modern authors — a particularly good one by Philippa Pearce, 'Lion at School,' here published for the first time. David Perry's The Grox and Eugene (Abelard-Schuman £1.45) rhymes appallingly (Eugene/dream) and is broken-backed in rhythm; a pity, because the storyline is attractive and inventive, and the identity of the Grox will keep most parents obstinately reading on even when they have realised that Perry has chosen the wrong medium, verse, for his talents.

I enjoyed The Bird Who Saved the Jungle, by James Kingston, with pictures by Gerald Rose (Faber E1.75), A good example of a tellable tale well-told, this, with its myna bird, Jy, who learns to imitate the cry of the vultures, and tricks them into leaving the jungle. You will have to do all the noises, so be warned: parakeets apparently say 'Quark!', bellbirds go Bonge, bulbuls sing Birribirrir, while nectar-seeking sunbirds cry 'Pup plip plip!' I expect it would look thin without Gerald Rose's amusing drawings, but it's a mark of the success of this collaboration that you cannot really imagine it without them. Monika Beisner's Fantastic Toys (AbelardSchuman 0.45) lists a number of fanciful inventions — winged jumping boots, a teddy that glows in the dark, an inflatable flower, etc. Each surrealistic drawing of the invented toy is accompanied by a brief text explaining it, sometimes in coyly grown-up prose, e.g. "To make bathtime a happier event here is some foam which you can mould into shapes." The child to whom I read it like the idea of the Sheep Toboggan (you press your knees to the sheep's sides and it cries ' Bah! 'just like the horn of a car), but found the rest of Miss Beisner's imagination a bit out-of-reach. A shame. She can draw.

Long Ago in Bethlehem (Black 0.25) has to be mentioned since many will buy it unthinkingly, or believing it to be a version of the Gospel story. So it is. after a fashion, but while Masahiro Kasuya's illustrations are quite nice, if you don't mind blurry romanticism, the text is so" down to earth " (I quote from the blurb) that it omits to mention Jesus' unusual parentage, and turns the angels into balls of light and singing winds. Strictly for humanists.

Moving now into a slightly older age-group — say those from six to eight, wanting fairly easy reads — I can recommend Elisabeth Kyle's Through the Wall (Heinemann 90p) and Shawell Styles' Marty's Mountain (Heinemann 90p). each of them having a clear story-line with plenty of excitement, as well as many pictures in both cases to break up the text. Not a Word for Himself by Kenneth Bird (Macdonald £1.40) presents more of a problem. Those who already know the 'Himself' books will not need me to tell them that here is another adventure of the dog belonging to Timothy Hogan, tinker. Those who don't might heed an opinion that the stuff is pure stage Irish, and be warned off. But I admit that once you start reading, stage Irish or not, it is hard to stop.

Finally, in Mrs Pepperpot's Year, Alf Proysen tells twelve new tales about Norway's most unusual housewife (Hutchinson Junior Books E1.10). The translation is by Marianne

Helweg and the illustrations by Bjorn Berg. Mrs Pepperpot does her spring cleaning, saves her friend the moose from being hunted, and ends up in hospital. It is all straightforward and wacky in that peculiar combination we have come to expect of the Pepperpot Saga. I think it is charm and good-heartedness which makes it memorable.

Robert Nye's latest book for children is a collection of stories entitled Poor Pumpkin, published by Macmillan.