Review of The Lion of Sole Bay by Julia Jones

In ‘The Strong Winds’ Trilogy, Julia Jones pulls off something quite remarkable.  To suggest it was conceived as an ‘homage’ to Arthur Ransome perhaps does both authors a disservice, because what Jones achieves in her trilogy of children’s books; in which the key features of Ransome also appear – sailing, adventure and the resourcefulness of youth in the face of an alien adult world – is something which will appeal to Ransome fans, but also to those for whom Ransome’s style and characterisation is locked in a bygone age. The ‘Strong Winds’ Trilogy is Ransome for our times. Julia Jones gives us 21^st century children facing modern, everyday, real problems. Whether you like Ransome or not, you can enjoy ‘Strong Winds.’  These are contemporary stories, with ‘issues’ but without being ‘issue based.’ More than that, the adventures are founded in the reality of the lives of these very ‘real’ characters.

I thoroughly enjoyed all three books of ‘The Strong Winds’ Trilogy and could recommend them to both adults and young people alike. These are the sort of books you revel in reading for yourself and make the perfect present for other people. They are books that will sit on many a shelf for a lifetime. The only criticism I could have of ‘The Strong Winds’ Trilogy, is that, like all good things, they had to come to an end.

With ‘The Lion of Sole Bay’, Julia Jones has opened the sea chest again. Moving beyond the Trilogy ‘Strong Winds’ is destined to become a series – and I for one hope that Jone will find the time and energy to match Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons series by writing (at least) twelve novels. 

You can read ‘The Lion of Sole Bay’ as a standalone, and if you do so, you’ll rush back to read the Trilogy. If you have read the Trilogy in advance you’ll find in ‘The Lion of Sole Bay’ an author in full stride, completely comfortable with her writing style. This is a tour de force.  Certainly I have grown into the Jones style of storytelling over the past three novels and this time I sat down with some expectations, which were not disappointed.  Jones managed to far exceed my already high expectations. She has taken a ‘minor’ character from the Trilogy, Luke, to be the ‘hero’ of this tale.  In doing so she reminds us that there are no ‘minor’ characters, that everyone has a story.  Jones’ ability to present the world through the eyes of a twelve year old is impressive, and we get lost in Luke’s ‘imagination’ to the point that we start to ‘believe’ as he does. 

‘The Lion of Sole Bay’ has two ‘heroines’, both unlikely – Angel has ADHD and Helen is being reared by a seriously demented mother. The result is the sense of a ‘community’ story, with characters’ lives interwoven and the reader feels every bit a part of the story.  Jones is, as ever, uncompromising in her portrayal of such ‘issues’ as drugs and disability, but the issues are so embedded into the narrative that they never jar or threaten the storyline. They simply make the characters more real because they have the ‘real’ flaws of ‘real’ people.  This requires expertise and sensitivity on the part of an author, and Jones never skips a beat.  I am particularly impressed by the way Jones draws adult characters such as ‘mad’ Peter, and Helen’s drug-fuelled mother Hendrike. While these are shown in a way that helps a child to make sense of them, they are also convincing enough portrayals for adults to stop and think about the relationship between adults and children. We see the child’s perspective and it makes us consider our own responsibilities.  Julia Jones draws both adults and children into her narrative web, and all can learn from the story.

As for the sailing, I leave it to those more knowledgeable than myself to debate the in’s and out’s of that aspect.  Given Jones’ knowledge and love of sailing I’m sure it’s all accurate and ‘ship shape.’ For an ‘armchair’ sailor like myself, I’ll simply say it’s all thrilling enough and interesting enough to form the basis of the story.  But there’s much more to it than sailing.

Structurally the plot moves along with perfect pacing. I found myself slowing down as I read to the end, not wanting the story to end, but desperate to know what happens next. That, for me, is the sign of a truly well written novel. Using a truncated time frame, round Halloween, worked really well on a number of levels and the linking of historical ‘fact’ with the present is an element I enjoyed immensely.

The central story is further enhanced by the opportunity for the reader to ‘engage’ even more.  The ‘Sole Bay Lectures’, delivered to the children by Angel’s father in their entirety (offstage so to speak) during a particularly tense time in the story, are written out at the end for anyone who wants to know more about the original Battle of Sole Bay 1672 which forms an historical backdrop (and in some senses a metaphorical parallel) of the modern ‘adventure’ part of the story.  We are left questioning the ‘fictionality’ of M.V.Vandervelde which is a writer’s conceit I particularly enjoy.

 I get the feeling Jones enjoys writing her fiction as much as I enjoy reading it, and feeling that bond between writer and reader engagement is rare and powerful.   Julia ‘gives’ throughout the novel is so many ways.  She also gives us additional ‘material’  in the form of personal snippets such as reference to Ransome’s Picts and the Martyrs, and The Lady of Stavoren.  None of this reads like ‘research’ but all of it adds an extra dimension to the ‘story.’ As does the ‘Tales from the Wheelhouse’ section at the end where Jones explains her personal connection to the Red Lion.  Add to this a glossary of Dutch words, maps, pictures of the ‘craft’ and a set of wonderfully evocative illustrations by Claudia Myatt, and you are getting an absolute gem for your money.

I have a sense of sadness whenever I finish a Jones novel, knowing I’m going to have to wait a while for the next. But now, with four ‘Strong Winds’ to read again and twelve Ransome to keep me company till the next one comes out, I may just survive until number five hits the shelves? Next year please Julia!

Review by Cally Phillips 

Jock Tamson’s Bairns by Cally Phillips

Review by Chris Longmuir

This book was a free offer distributed by the author Cally Phillips, as a lead in to her book A Week with No Labels. 

Cally Phillips uses the expression ‘we’re all Jock Tamson’s Bairns’ to signify that, although not everyone is the same, ‘we are all equal under the skin’. The introduction to this book of short stories discusses what is meant by intelligence, normality and abnormality, leading onto a discussion about labels and who judges whether someone is ‘normal’ or not.

Jock Tamson’s Bairns is a book of short stories about people who are stuck with labels that suggest they are different from ‘normal’ people. She argues that the people who carry these labels are real people. Maybe a bit different, but equal to everyone else.

I loved the short stories in this book. They revolve around a drama group. I read about Gary, who is labelled as having ‘challenging behaviour’, but which Phillips prefers to call ‘creative behaviour’. Gary has sight, hearing, mobility and communication problems, which can exclude him from certain activities. However, when the group he is part of go on an imaginary journey, his delight at being chosen to play God, made my day as well as his and the group leader’s.

Jonjo is aboy who has acquired the label ADHD, and he runs everywhere. His story is told in his own words, and it flags up the misunderstandings that often arise, because the ‘normal’ person, the one without the label, doesn’t take the trouble to find out what Jonjo, and others like him, understand of the world about them. Then there’s Heather, a wheelchair user with limited movement, who is sometimes described a being ‘not all there’, but she is real, with hopes, dreams, likes and dislikes, just like anyone else. She likes the game of animal noises. She gets to be a giraffe because a giraffe doesn’t make any noise, just stretches its neck and sticks its tongue out, and Heather can do that. Then there’s Angus, who has Aspergers Syndrome. But Angus can do things ‘normal’ people can’t do, although despite this he is stuck in a Behaviour unit at school. Phillips concludes his story by saying ‘Give the boy a job he can do and he’ll do it all day quite happily. Treat him like a reject and he’ll behave like one.’

These short stories certainly gave me a lot to think about, and one of the difficulties in reviewing it was talking about the characters without including the labels they were saddled with. It was a salutory experience.

But before I finish this review, I want to comment on the excerpt at the end. It was quite a long excerpt, but I wanted it to be longer. It was from Cally Phillips’ book, A Week With No Labels. It describes the working of a drama group which is called No Labels. This is a fictional drama group, although Phillips has worked for 10 years with a ‘real’ drama group run ‘for and by’ adults labelled with learning disabilities. It describes the participants in the drama group, what they did on Monday, and their understanding of the labels they carry. These range from learning disability to spazzy, and how it makes them feel. The excerpt finishes with the group performing a play, and the audience going home with a message: ‘Go home and think about how you treat people. And be careful if you are in a position of power. Chickens can come home to roost.’

This is one book I won’t forget in a hurry, and I’ll definitely be buying A Week With No Labels’. I want to find out what the No Labels drama group did on the other days of the week.

Chris Longmuir

Link for A Week with No Labels