Rhyme Stew
by Roald Dahl; ill. Quentin Blake (Jonathan Cape, 1989)
Lame poetry that, otherwise treated, could have become classic illustrated short stories. Dahl’s rhymes are too simplistic for grown-ups, yet too adult for young readers (the cover explicitly says so, though everything else about the book’s presentation screams ‘children’). A perplexing offering.
Quentin Blake: In the Theatre of the Imagination – An Artist at Work
by Ghislaine Kenyon (Bloomsbury, 2016)
Quentin Blake’s art is distinctive and greatly beloved. Kenyon’s analysis-cum-tribute focusses on how Blake’s personality—his Francophilia and appreciation of literature; his positive outlook and playful, empathic eye for other people’s experiences; his quiet attentiveness and generous spirit—manifests in his work.
The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me
by Roald Dahl; ill. Quentin Blake (Jonathan Cape, 1985)
Roald Dahl is always imaginative but this must be his most delightful story, free from the dark themes so characteristic elsewhere. There is nothing here but crazy, cute, happy fun… and as ever the writing is perfectly paired with Quentin Blake’s illustrations.
A Moose that says Moooooooooo
by Jennifer Hamburg; ill. Sue Truesdell (Farrar Straus Giroux, 2013)
The moose barely features but it does start the fun, Hamburg letting her hair down in a freewheeling animals-gone-wild story (spoilt only by occasional stumbles in her Dr Seuss-like amphibrachic tetrameter). Truesdell captures the chaos with vibrant illustrations à la Quentin Blake.
The Enormous Crocodile
by Roald Dahl (Jonathan Cape, 1978); audiobook read by Stephen Fry (Puffin, 2013)
A classic safe scare for young middle grade readers, the audiobook stripped of Quentin Blake’s illustrations but enhanced in compensation by Stephen Fry’s delivery (albeit that the background soundscape becomes tiresome, especially when signifying the crocodile’s trademark ‘secret plans and clever tricks’).
Agaton Sax and Lispington’s Grandfather Clock
by Nils-Olof Franzén; ill. Quentin Blake (Andre Deutsch, 1978)
The last of Franzén’s Agaton Sax books sees the great detective once again triumphant in the face of nefarious criminal undertakings, the harried mishaps of his good friend Inspector Lispington, and even the unfortunate magnetism of Andreas Kark. A fittingly ebullient finale.
Great Day For Up
by Dr. Seuss; ill. Quentin Blake (Random House, 1974)
The first Dr Seuss book not illustrated by the man himself, Great Day For Up was brought to life instead by the redoubtable — and equally inimitable — Quentin Blake. The rhythm is slippery at times but the book verily fizzes with joyous exuberance.
Agaton Sax and the Haunted House
by Nils-Olof Franzén; illustrated by Quentin Blake (Andre Deutsch, 1975)
Bolstered by Blake’s zesty drawings, Franzén gives YA readers the perfect introduction to crime fiction. His irrepressibly competent Swedish detective Agaton Sax, along with the harried, hapless Inspector Lispington, form a memorable duo fighting the bumbling wiles of the international criminal fraternity.
The Hermit and the Bear
by John Yeoman, ill. Quentin Blake (André Deutsch, 1984)
A hermit looking to pass on his knowledge finds his work cut out for him when he takes in an enthusiastic but galumphing bear for tuition. Although not progressing much from its starting premise, this wistfully humorous YA tale retains its charm.
The Great Piratical Rumbustification (& The Librarian and the Robbers)
by Margaret Mahy (J. M. Dent, 1978)
Two stories by New Zealand’s doyen of children’s books: the second, a quietly subversive extolment of libraries; the first, a droll yet puckishly young-at-heart parable on quality of life, with bonhomous pictures by Quentin Blake and an endearingly rumtiddlyumptious neologism to boot!