Category Archives: Childrens Books

PHOENIX ARK PRESS RELEASE

Phoenix Ark are delighted to announce the publication of the Co-edition of The Sight and Fell, for the first time to eBook. To thank Phoenix readers that eBook, the new US editions of The Sight and Firebringer, and the new thriller The Godhead Game, will all be available for free download on June 21st, the longest day.

Coming soon…The Terror Time Spies

Phoenix Ark Press

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THE TERROR TIME SPIES

Phoenix Ark Press are delighted to announce the forthcoming publication of The Terror Time Spies by David Clement-Davies. The first in a thrilling adventure series about the soon to be famous Pimple Club, based on rumours of a daring English aristocrat, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and set during the French Revolution’s horrifying reign of terror.

It is Henry Bonespair’s birthday and he has been given a very strange present, a beautiful watch, while he and his tomboy sister Spike, in their wild little gang called The Rat Catchers, prepare to make a dangerous journey with their father to Revolutionary Paris. But the trip is cancelled, as fear and horror mount abroad, so when pretty French émigré Juliette St Honore is kidnapped by French Spies, there is nothing for it but to form a brand new gang, go to Paris, rescue Juliette from the jaws of the Guillotine and defeat the Frenchies themselves! Little do the daring Pimpernel Club know that Henry’s watch conceals not only a grave English spy secret, but can also open a doorway into some very strange and exciting worlds indeed. Perhaps through time itself.

Coming this July

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PRESS RELEASE

Phoenix Ark Press are delighted to announce, for the first time, the publication to e-book of The Telling Pool by David Clement-Davies. Available from Amazon, The Telling Pool is a mystical and richly woven Arthurian fantasy, following the adventures and coming of age story of Rhodri Falcon, which was short-listed for the Tir Na Nog prize in the UK. Its publication precedes a number of exciting new titles this year including Scream of the White Bear, The Terror Time Spies, The Dragon Book and The Godhead Game. Also to be published are exclusive US editions of FireBringer and The Sight and a coedition of The Sight and Fell.

From Booklist:

Gr. 6-9. A wizened crone at the village fair reads the cards for young Rhodri Falcon, revealing the suffering to come from a looming war. In his haste to escape from the crone’s strange intensity, Rhodri is drawn toward a grizzled and blind blacksmith who speaks of quests, a true sword, and the mysterious Telling Pool. These ancients’ interest in Rhodri, the son of a Welsh falconer who serves a Norman lord during the time of the Third Crusade, hinges on an ancestry of which he has no knowledge: Rhodri is descended from Arthur’s Guinevere and has an important role to play in the dark times ahead. With the aid of the blacksmith, the powers of the Telling Pool, his beloved rock falcon, a wise young woman, and an infamous sword, Rhodri must walk a difficult path to save his family, king, and country from the forces of evil…a satisfying and well-crafted story that through Arthurian lore, brings a steadfast young boy to manhood and adult understanding. Holly Koelling
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

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THE PHOENIX OFFICE BIRD

There is a little bird sitting in the office who keeps looking at us with a raised eyebrow, wondering what exactly we are feeding it. If thoughts that the Phoenix Bird might have expired of late due to emotional exhaustion have been much overplayed, like reports of our death, it is of course obvious that you simply cannot kill a Phoenix. But what to feed this creature of power and delight, so that it grows into a creature of truly mythical plummage and protects writers who care about the art? Of course, new stories, so Phoenix Ark Press are delighted to announce that SCREAM OF THE WHITE BEAR will be published both as an Ebook and in paperback this Summer, August, 1st 2012.

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FRANK GARDNER, TINTIN AND WHAT IS GAINED IN TRANSLATION

I have met Frank Gardiner, and was as shocked by his shooting as I was impressed and moved by how he has fought on as a journalist, now in a wheel chair. His race after the story of Tintin last night was very interesting, though perhaps it lacked a little humour. But Gardiner is a serious journalist, he says inspired to the cause by the books themselves, and it is certainly true that Tintin is the straight man to all the other action. So following the first book, Tintin in the Land of the Soviets, still banned in Russia, was a worthy journey. It was fascinating to see how Herge used real life, up to the minute press stories, and how his own politics was influenced by exposing the evils of the Bolsheviks. He was engaged with his time, on a world scale, and that itself may have justified a young man’s initial silence about the Nazis, in a country under occupation. Remember they tried to suggest PG Woodhouse had facist tendencies too.

But the best bit was learning about that man-woman team who championed the cause and became Tintin’s original translators. Every culture makes great works their own, and of course to us the Tintin books were identifiably British, thus easy to relate to, though with more than a hint of the exotic too. Marlinspike Hall locates it in a British world, though modelled on a French Chateau, but of course that was thanks to translations of characters like Professor Turnasol into Calculus, and Dupont and Dupond into Thomson and Thompson. Above all though in those oddly Belgian books comes Tintin’s great friend and cypher, beyond Snowy, Captain Haddock. The old sea dog’s Red Rackham’s Treasury of colourful swear words were summoned from their imaginations and we owe them a very great debt, by blue blistering barnacles!

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TINTIN AND THE FAILURE OF MOTION CAPTURE?

PRESS RELEASE: Phoenix Ark Press adopts Tintin as Mascot:

They argued it hotly on The Review Show recently, rather condemning Stephen Spielberg’s Motion Capture techniques for the new Tintin, the only possible literary mascot for Phoenix Ark Press! Particularly because Motion Capture deprives the actors of facial emotion. Many kids love it, which is its own vindication, and yet, although classic strip cartoons were in a sense a kind of precursor to movies themselves, they are also far more than that, as are Graphic Novels. Who could forget just one box from Tintin in Tibet, the moment Tintin has his dream and wakes with an explosive sneeze of ‘CHANG‘?

So much is happening, just in that one picture, it might be a movie in itself. The point is that in those marvellous, original and heroic books lies so much more than can be contained in a speedy narrative adventure. The art in enjoying them is not the speed either, it is the slowness, what your imagination has to create and interpret between the gaps, the very point of books, and the joy that you and kids can paw over them for hours and hours on end, rediscovering things all the time. Just study who is looking at who in the picture above.

Some of the female commentators especially said that Tintin never turned them on, like this movie, because it is so lacking in emotion. In fact, the process for a child is learning emotion and complexity through the drawings, and the Tintin series is filled with emotions, from Chang’s rescue, a book that was pennded during a nervous breakdown, and the Yeti’s heartbreak at the loss of the human he protected, to Captain Haddock’s passionate rages, guilts and embarrassments, to the horror of Raskacapak, and the anger of the Gypsy at Marlinspike, in The Castafiore Emerald, that might put you on the side of Dale Farm. Although it is true Tintin never gets a girlfriend. They are also filled with an understudied theme in literature, the role of animals, while they capture some eternal truth about the real world, which is why in King Ottaker’s Sceptre the adventure is spliced between children rooting around on a Third World rubbish tip, at the start and end of a story of regime change. As for the politically correct, that could be complicated, especially during Nazi occupation which Herge admitted part swept him up. But perhaps Tintin in Tibet was a kind of moral redemption for him, after his flirtation with Jungian analysis, while Herge was not only a person of his time, which still allowed the Robinsons Golliwog, he was also an artist who grew all the time, and was constantly on the side of the underdog – with Snowy at his side, of course, pawing over all the marvels. Which brings us to the true story of finding a real Snowy at Battersea Dogs Home recently, but not having signed up early enough to take him home. Woof woof!

The cartoons are from public domain Wikepedia images of Tintin.

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HOPPETTY COMES TO TEACH A DRAGON HOW TO FLY!

Phoenix Ark are delighted to publish another story, for parents to read aloud with kids, from PolliPigglePuggar, by David Clement-Davies

THE TALE OF HOPPETTY THE GRASSHOPPER

Once upon a day the sun was shining with all its might, just as it loves to do. The misty skies were quivering with the turning spring and great billows of itching gadflies rode the morning air, in clouds of glittering wings. They only had a day. In the shining meadow the long grass was rich and juicy, thick as little pencils, while among the fattly firming stalks of luscious green, casting their shadows everywhere, a new-born Grasshopper, tiny as a nail, fresh as a dew drop, popped up his little head and looked about in wonder.

Wow. His little Grasshop-eyes were huge, and the fine antennae fingers on his head shook with interest, and a mighty question too, that Hoppetty couldn’t wait to ask. ‘Oh please,‘ he cried, to all his brothers and sisters, flashing through the stalks above and darting everywhere, ‘can you tell me how I do that too? How to reach the sky.

‘Too young, Hoppetty,’ snapped a brother scornfully, and with a gigantic spring, launching himself straight over a Dandelion, like a fly. ‘Too weak, Hoppetty,’ winked a sister, flicking like a weightless dart, to the very top of the highest flower, ‘Go and ask our parents, silly Hoppetty.’

So the little Grasshopper turned and walked on his little legs over the earth to his mum and dad. But they were busy making meadow music with their strong back legs, a kind of cerricketting, side by side, and talking of all the dangers in the meadow too, to even notice their tiny offspring’s question. Poor little Hoppety bowed his head and nearly cried.

Oh why does nobody show me anything at all?” he wailed.

But then Hoppetty’s brave little heart rallied and he decided to ask the other creatures what he wanted to know. The creatures in the meadow.
So off the big-eyed Grasshopper set, through the long grasses, up the meadow, step by step. At first Hoppetty was very frightened and rather slow, creeping through the stalks, like a forest of giant trees looming around him, tipping forwards too, always looking down, because Grasshopper’s legs at the back are bigger than the front. But at last he came on a yellow backed-Bumblebee, who he heard first, hovering over a buttercup and sticking pollen to her legs, like magic dust. Her face was shining like the sun, as Hoppetty looked up, and nectar dripped from her lips.

‘Please, Mrs BumbleBee,’ said Hoppetty nervously, feeling very small indeed, ‘Can you tell me how to touch the sky, just like you? Like the gadflies, and all my brothers and sisters too? I’m Hoppetty the Grasshopper.” ‘Fly in the sky, My Dear?” buzzed the busy bumblebee, though not unkindly, ‘Dear me no, Hoppetty, you haven’t any wings.’ With that the heavy laden bee took to the air again, abuzzing and afuzzing, but called out kindly too, ‘Up there, Hoppetty, below that tree, try the Caterpillar. They know a thing or two.

So off the bright green Grasshopper set again, a little less nervously this time, and there, on the edge of a leaf, hanging down from a low trailing branch, Hoppetty saw a jet black Caterpillar, furry as a spider, acurling and awhirling, aworming and asquirming and eating his home. ‘Please, Mr Caterpillar,’ cried Hoppetty, ‘Can you tell me how to fly?” ‘Not me,‘ answered the Caterpillar, chewing on his leaf, ‘I haven’t changed just yet. But when I eat enough, and spin myself a silk cocoon, then I’ll be a butterfly myself. All sun and air and breeze. I’m planning to take off.”

The little Grasshopper looked jealous and then monumentally sad. He sighed. ‘Besides,‘ said the Caterpiller, smacking his delicate lips, “Grasshoppers don’t fly, silly, they hop. They hop, skip and they jump. Suddenly.” “Oh yes,” said Hoppetty, “I forgot.”But Try up there,” said the Caterpillar, beginning to spin the finest thread around itself, “Up the meadow, by those stones. Snail knows a thing or two.”

So Hoppetty walked on, faster now, and found Snail, like a homeless slug, lying beside her shell, trying to eat some earth. “Please,” said Hoppetty, “I want to launch myself, but I don’t know how to Hop.” Mmmmm, beats me,” said the snail, “I haven’t any legs. I’m earth bound. Though I know your reach should always be bigger than your grasp. But tell you what, up there, by the old Kitchen Garden wall, lives the wisest creature in all the world. The Tortoise. Go ask him, Hoppetty, he knows everything.” So that’s exactly what brave Hoppetty did. He was going much faster now, even stepping over little stones, and less frightened of all the things around him, although Hoppetty stopped dead when he saw a dark green grass snake lift its head and flick its tongue, looking for a snack, just like him.

But the bright sun shone in the snake’s dim black eyes and he slithered coldly away, and Hoppetty went on, faster still, seeing a great brown wall of human bricks and stones, far in the distance, rising like a flat mountain before him. It was huge and it made him gulp and feel sick. It seemed to take for ever to even get near it, but there, in the earth , at the edge of the Kitchen garden Wall Hoppetty found the Tortoise. Or Hoppetty found his stoney shell, since tortoise was inside, contemplating things.

Now Hoppetty stepped up sharply, to the dark little hole where a head should have been and called out loudly. “Hello, Tortoise,” he cried, “I’m Hoppetty, and I’ve come to ask you how to hop.” It took an age before anything happened, but then, very slowly, a wrinkled head came out, blinking and sniffing the coming summer air. ‘To Hop?” said the Tortoise slowly, in a deeply ringing voice, “Well how should I know, little fool, I’m the slowest thing in all the world. I hardly ever move.”But the cleverest,” said the bright eyed Grasshopper quickly, “Everyone knows that!”

“Mmmmm,” said the Tortoise, flattered and chewing on his ancient lips, “Mmmm.” His voice was as deep and ringing as an old stone well. “Well, I tell you what, Hoppetty, I’ll make you a bargain.”Bargain?” piped the little Grasshopper. “Oh yes,” said the Tortoise, “nothing in life is quite for free. And I’m hungry, and this grave question of yours needs real food for thought.”

Hoppetty was pushing himself up on his back legs, his brave antennae quivering faster then ever before, as he wondered just what food for thought was. He waited and he waited and at last Tortoise spoke again. “So go and find me something delicious,” said the Tortoise, “And I might just tell you what you need to know.”Some thing?” said Hoppetty, very smartly, “Well, I know Mrs Bee likes Pollen, and the Caterpillar loves his leaf, the Snail likes earth and snakes are simply silly. What shall I get you though?” Now the Tortoise looked at Hoppetty straight, and looked, and some strange new light came into his dark, slow eyes.”Cabbage,” he whispered suddenly, although not very fast, “I like my cabbage, Hoppetty, and it’s the only answer to your question too, I’m sure of it. So bring me a fresh new cabbage leaf, Hoppetty, and I will show you exactly how to hop, higher than anything else.” “Where,” said the Grasshopper, wonderingly, ready to run as fast as ever he could, “IN THERE,” answered the Tortoise ominously, turning his slow head, “Beyond the Kitchen Garden Wall.”

Now Hoppetty set off immediately, his heart filled with hope, but soon his spirit had sunk like the biggest stone, in the deepest pool, for though the little Grasshopper went around and around the wall, there simply was no way in at all. The Garden wall just was too high to climb, and the wooden door, when he found it, was blocked below with stones to stop the slugs getting in. It was impossible. The poor Grasshopper’s bursting heart was breaking, because if Hoppetty didn’t get Tortoise his Cabbage, he would never know the secret at all.

But then the sun came out again, and suddenly the little Grasshopper had a brilliant idea. So he jumped onto a stalk of grass, and sprang onto another, then up to a leaf, and now the top of the wall was not so high at all, he closed his eyes, and pushed and pushed and pushed and launched himself up and out. Hoppetty found himself sailing over, straight onto the finest cabbage leaf in all the Kitchen Garden. Hoppetty set to work, and now, eating a little himself, but cutting the best bit for his friend the Tortoise, so eager now to get the answer that his heart was doing somersaults, he turned and sprang, straight back over the wall again.

I’ve got it,” cried Hoppetty proudly, landing like a gadfly right before his friend, “Your special cabbage. So please, Tortoise, now can you tell me just how to…OH!” As the great old Tortoise lowered his kind, wise head and smiled, pulling the delicious cabbage into his old mouth, Hoppety’s little heart took wing and soared. “HOP,” he cried delightedly, “But I hopped, and I popped and I dropped, and then I hopped again, all on my own, into the Garden and out again, over the wall and away. Hooray.” So off grateful Hoppetty went, thanking his friend, as the Tortoise chewed his most delicious leaf, ahopping and apopping, aspringing and asinging, the summer filling his brave little heart, Hoppetty, Hoppetty, Hoppetty, all the way home. Now he jumps quite the highest of all the grasshoppers in all the meadow, ever, does Hoppetty the brave.

David Clement-Davies 2011. All Rights Reserved.

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POLAR BEAR ATTACK – A BETTER STORY

In such strange and sad times the hits at Phoenix Ark, after a blog about a Polar Bear attack got almost as many as the Norwegian, Anders Breivik. Well, you can’t control what people want to read about. The tragic case of the 17 year old Horation Chapple on Svarlsbad was exceptional, and the Polar Bear in question was shot and killed by their guide, who was himself badly injured.

Last time we blogged it, we talked of the needed respect of and even fear of wild nature. So crowded in on now, on a planet of ever expanding populations, that faces great and sometimes seemingly impossible paradoxes between the human and the animal. In fact, after spending an imaginative two years with Polar Bears, writing Scream of the White Bear, the founder is well acquainted with those remarkable animals, used as a ‘Flag Ship’ species, to attract interest to their own plight, in what is really a problem of biospheres, on a World scale. Though, apart from the Polar Bears that he used to see in London Zoo as a boy, a real inspiration was the sad and neurotic pair in Central Park Zoo in New York, one of which recently died. They are the largest carnivores on earth, and with such keen senses of smell and such fearlessness too, extremely dangerous. Which is why the inhabitants of Churchill, in Canada, the ‘polar bear capital of the world’, face regular problems with them coming into town.

For those who like their animals in happier stories though, we pointed to the great polar bear in Phillip Pulman’s sparkling trilogy, that begins withNorthern Lights, also partly set on Svarlsbad. How the story, brilliantly woven between real and fictional worlds, plays with the ideas of almost Jungian archetypes, and in the flow between ‘male’ and ‘female’ energy, and the changing animas of childhood growth and creativity, the bear who loses his honour and his armour finds his strength restored, thanks to the courage and love of brave Lyra Silvertongue. The pact between the two of them is enchanting. They are the most wonderful stories, and we recommend them to anyone.

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PHOENIX ARK PRESS RELEASE

Phoenix Ark are delighted to announce that The Sight has been republished to Kindle.

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HARRY POTTER PREMIER

The Harry Potter premier in London’s Trafalgar Square yesterday was extraordinary. As if Britain had suddenly become Hogwart’s and little Wizards everywhere been morphed into Royalty. Tears, thrills, waving crowds. Phoenix’s founder has to confess to a twinge of jealousy, even Schadenfreude at it all. He remembers his agent when Fire Bringer came out, telling him to check out ‘the competition’, with the arrival of JK Rowling’s first book. So, as the thrill of seeing his own work in the shops turned to horror as Harry Potter books turned into piles like New York sky scrapers, in one way he has lived in that shadow more than most. At school presentations, especially in America, he would ask what kids thought of the books, and then do a very good impression of Septimus Snape, snarling at ‘PPPPOTTER.HARRY POTTER!‘ The truth is though he, like everyone else, adored the series, though also being a little grumpy in the Bloomsbury premier of the first movie. He also defended the books, especially in Christian America, against the absurd charge of being evil.

Yet Children’s authors, in fact all authors, have lived in the shadow of the Potter Phenomenon, and carefully orchestrated phenomenon it has been. Brilliantly stage-managed, and channelled towards movies and merchandising with an enormous degree of talent. But the reason for that is certainly not stage management alone. It was always said, and we believe quite rightly, that the books began as a word of mouth phenomenon in schools. Their power is their extraordinary narrative energy, their remarkable reinvention, drawing on all the great myths, their humour and joy, but their inclusive, highly sensitive values as well, in defence of the young, of imagination, and of the magic of life. Fully in tune with the inescapable opposites of Good and Evil, and perhaps above all filled with a great deal of love.

Sober writers, ‘great minds’, serious intellectuals wondered why children and adults were hunched on tubes reading not The Brother’s Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, War and Peace, or even Pride and Prejudice, but happy to pick up those colourful volumes. The truth is not only the essential child within, and the vital dialogue between adulthood and childhood that makes the world, but also makes ‘children’s literature’, so wrongly dismissed sometimes, as the very gateway to genius and imagination. There are many other books to be read and written, and now the hype tells us its all over. Of course it isn’t, because the books will always be there, and JK Rowling, fearsome in defence of her own copyright, has started her own online book world. We wonder if she will turn that to supporting other writers and stories, in a defence of reading itself, but can only smile approvingly at all she has achieved. ‘Harry Potter is dead – Long live Harry Potter!.’

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