The Valley of the Cobras
by Hergé; trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Casterman, 1957)
In this final book of the series, Hergé at last strikes the right balance, giving free reign to slapstick antics while more or less side-lining Jo and Zette (though still depicting them as adventurous mini Tintins; Jocko serves as a surrogate Snowy).
Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats
by T.S. Eliot (Faber & Faber, 1939); audiobook read by Miranda Richardson (Faber & Faber, 2015)
A slim volume of Dr Seuss-like (though inherently more literary) poems for children, memorable more for the gloriously absurd cat names and the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical these inspired than for the poetry itself. Miranda Richardson’s reading is decent if sometimes off-tempo.
Commando
dir. Mark L. Lester (1985)
Recipe for the quintessential 1980s action film. Take: atrocious dialogue; nonsequitous, spectacle-driven plot; casual continuity lapses; women as accessories; relentless electronic score; selectively efficacious weaponry; overweight Australian Freddie Mercury villain. Mix well, add Schwarzenegger. Ensure that writers and director are all male.
Murder Must Advertise
by Dorothy Sayers (Victor Gollancz, 1933); audiobook read by Ric Jerrom (Chivers, 2012)
Sayers throws herself into the advertising world, exhibiting the same whimsical, satirical bent as her protagonist. Yet, the entire caper is laborious in the extreme. Characterisation and context are all very well, but a good 50% of this novel is utterly extraneous.
Midnight Adventure
by Raymond Briggs (Hamish Hamilton, 1961)
A slight chapter book for young boys. The narrative is uncomplicated and the vocabulary suitable for modern readers, though the setting and plot reflect a post-war interest in tales of action adventure and Biggles-esque derring-do. Dark, scratchy illustrations shade the night-time escapade.
The Ghost of Windy Hill
by Clyde Robert Bulla; ill. Don Bolognese (Scholastic, 1968)
A slim chapter book that establishes its characters and settings with minimalist ease. Any sense of foreboding comes from Bolognese’s murky ink drawings. The ghost story ends with barely a ripple, revealing itself to have been more about family, love and friendship.
Return of the Jedi Annual
by Archie Goodwin (Marvel, 1983)
A 62-page graphic novelisation, drawn with moody backgrounds and an occasionally lurid palette. The story is a bit rushed once it reaches Endor, but for the most part this is an exciting, faithful retelling and a boon prior to home media release.
The Famous 5 and the Golden Galleon
by Serge Rosenzweig & Bernard Dufossé (Hodder and Stoughton, 1983)
A dirty drawing style in which Julian and Anne look rather too similar, as do Dick and George, and all four children have been modelled on Mick Jagger. The adventure is a typical Famous Five romp, only with frequent bouts of fisticuffs.
Wilberforce and the Blue Cave
by Leslie Coleman; ill. John Laing (Blackie and Son, 1974 / Hamlyn, 1977)
An innocent chapter book adventure weakened by several allusions far above the reading level, and by the rampant proliferation of stereotypes. The humorous appeal seems predicated on the fact that Wilberforce and friends perform everyday acts (unfolding maps, etc.) while living underwater.
The Summer of the Swans
by Betsy Byars; ill. Ted CoConis (Viking, 1970 / Puffin, 1981)
A simple, almost innocuous story, lent narrative power by its non-pandering depiction of character. Charlie, who is mentally disabled, appears likely to be the focus, yet it is his 14-year-old sister Sara whose adolescent problems are lent perspective when Charlie goes missing.