What is it about trains (and other kinds of transport) that is so attractive to people? I struggle to see the appeal myself but I am fascinated by the voracious appetite in the publishing world for books on various forms of conveyance, with trains being an especially popular topic.
Three such new titles have just hit library shelves. My favourite would have to be Transit maps of the world. Yes, that’s right, a whole book about transit maps. Of course, most people would be familiar with the elegant design of the map for the London Underground but failing that, have you ever considered any other maps of this kind worthy of glossy colour photos and a potted history? Well someone has, and they’ve published it. In fact the book in question is actually a second revised and expanded edition. Extraordinary!
Train fanciers might also to be interested to know that Cade’s locomotive guide, the must-have publication for railway modellers is newly arrived and chocka-block with colour photos of trains (both real and model) as well as a mindboggling array of statistics and measurements, most of which I do not understand. I can’t for the life of me imagine what “tractive effort” is but I’m sure those in the know will find this information useful.
The illustrated encyclopaedia of extraordinary automobiles has a lot within its pages to hold the interest of car enthusiasts and non-enthusiasts alike. Grouped by decade the automobiles detailed run (or should that be drive) the gamut from the NASA lunar roving vehicle to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Batmobile, James Bond’s Aston Martin DB5 and the “popemobile”. My favourites would have to be the sci-fi inspired concept cars of the fifties and sixties like the Ford Gyron. Very Jetsons.
I have become a space junkie. It all began about 18 months ago when I read the light, accessible and informative children’s novel George’s secret key to the universe to my children. I learned a lot, and as it was written by Stephen Hawking and his daughter, I feel what I learned was fairly reliable. And my children kept saying: “Mum, didn’t you know that already?” just to confirm that they know everything and I’m a typical dumb parent.
Coincidentally the library hosted a space programme over the summer holidays, and I found myself wearing a pair of NASA overalls. You know, one of those delightful outfits that are much easier to get in to than out of, rather like a bad relationship or a black hole.
The space theme has continued to haunt me ever since. The favourite new book in our household last year was Cosmic by Frank Cottrell Boyce. It’s a humorous, touching and exciting read about a boy who is constantly mistaken for an adult. This is awkward at times, especially when he ends up heading to the Moon supervising a bunch of kids. I read this book out loud to my children, which was tricky at times because I was laughing so much. In addition to the humour, there’s lots about families and especially the role of dads.
With a similar plot, i.e. bright kid heads to moon, but way more detail about space flight, is P.B. Kerr’s exciting new book One small step. It’s a great adventure story, which somehow manages to overcome its plentiful improbabilities and its unexpectedly philosophical end. Kids intrigued by space or who love adventure and can cope with the technical explanations will love this one.
Inevitably my space addiction has led me to the adult section, where I unearthed the story of the perilous voyage of Apollo 13 written by the commander of that mission, Jim Lovell with journalist Jeffrey Kluger. It’s a blow by blow account of the colossal amount of human resource, brainpower, commitment and teamwork that went in to bringing three astronauts safely home, and averting what could have been a mortal blow to the space programme. Although the technical side of the mission is intriguing in itself, the human story is what is totally compelling of course, even though it’s told in a slightly irritating Dan Brownesque cliffhanger manner.
To top all my space-themed reading off, the library launched a new interactive activity Space Explorer on the kids web pages last year. You can take a virtual journey through space and learn a few bits and pieces on the way. It also has links to other great space websites, library resources and children’s books on space.
So now that I know all about the space books in the children’s section, and was comforted to find from Erin’s post Great Gig in the Sky that I am not the only female space junkie librarian, I am keen to follow up on the books listed by Erin about Neil Armstrong.
And now we’re coming full circle as Stephen and Lucy Hawking have a released a follow-up title George’s Cosmic Treasure Hunt which was up for review. So of course, I can’t help myself. The plan is that I will read it to my daughters over the holidays and review it. Watch this space! Well, it is the International Year of Astronomy, after all.
Necrology – a list of notable people who have died recently. Now a regular feature on our blog.
David Haywood’s collection of blogs in printed form begins with the story which gives its name to the book, My first stabbing. Though the title sounds harsh and threatening the contents of the book, though sometimes pointed, are never menacing (unless you find descriptions of the bowel movements of new babies to be threatening, and who could blame you if you did?)
The story for which the book is named, rather than being a terrifying look into the heart of street crime is instead a terrifying look into the heart of Haywood’s Scottish family. The stabbing is itself a inconvenient side issue when compared with what will happen to the family’s new (unfortunately bled upon) rug. It’s a rather ridiculous sitting-room farce of a thing. I loved it.
David Haywood has had for several years, a regular blog on Public Address and My first stabbing is a collection of posts on topics as broad as what makes a good pub to unsettling baby dramas, to the intricacies of packing a bass guitar into a Citroen. Though many of these interesting vignettes have been read by me before at a computer screen, there’s something nice and relaxing about being able to flick through in paper form and they are brief enough to read on my short bus journeys to and from work every day.
Another reason this is very suitable bus-reading material is that I often find myself sporting a wry smile as I read. At the most this might burst out into a modest, knowing chuckle. At no point has this book caused me to cackle or God forbid, snort. Haywood’s is a gentle, dry sort of humour and most enjoyable. Eminently suitable for reading in front of strangers, on buses or otherwise.
