TRAVEL MONTH REVIEW - 'Solace of the Road', Siobhan Dowd (David Fickling Books, 2010)

Memories of mum are the only thing that make Holly Hogan happy. She hates her foster family with their too-nice ways and their false sympathy. And she hates her life, her stupid school, and the way everyone is always on at her. Then she finds the wig, and everything changes. Wearing the long, flowing blond locks she feels transformed. She’s not Holly anymore, she’s Solace: the girl with the slinkster walk and the supersharp talk. She’s older, more confident—the kind of girl who can walk right out of her humdrum life, hitch to Ireland, and find her mum. The kind of girl who can face the world head-on. 

So begins a bittersweet and sometimes hilarious journey as Solace swaggers and Holly tiptoes across England and through memory, discovering her true self and unlocking the secrets of her past. (Synopsis from Goodreads)


Now, when I was researching possible books for my travel month (I say month, but I realise this month is over-running somewhat. Let's pretend no one else has noticed), I soon cottoned onto the fact that finding a comprehensive list of YA travel fiction was going to be a pretty tough task. But I do not give up easily, oh no. I managed to track down a list of road trip-themed YA on Goodreads (close enough), but was slightly disappointed to find most of these were set in the good old US of A. Not that I have a problem with US road trips. I adore them. I want to do one, one day...*stares off into distance* BUT, I have already covered that particular mini-genre this month with my review of Amy and Roger's Epic Detour. And jolly lovely it was too. Just before I was about to through in the towel, I stumbled across this title a bit further down the chart of road-trips.


Ever since I finished A Monster Calls, I have been very intrigued by Siobhan Dowd's books. They seem to encompass everything I love about contemporary YA - sad but beautiful, as the lovely Jo from Wear The Old Coat would say. Somehow, this one had managed to slip under my radar - a ROAD TRIP but set in my homeland! Perfect. Because we all know travel just doesn't mean frolicking to far flung corners. And their are plenty of folk reading this book who would consider a road (and boat) trip from London to Ireland a far-flung travel.


So where do I start with this. SO MANY, MANY FEELINGS

I won't go into details of Holly's painful childhood, but please don't let the trauma put you off reading this. Yes, there are bleak moments, but this is no way an 'issue based' YA book. I have nothing against YA that tackles the rough stuff. I'm sure many a teenager finds comfort and, well, solace from this type of YA fiction. But sometimes, the characters come second to the issues being tackled. 

What I loved so much about this was the fact the Holly Hogan is first and foremost a human being, a teenager, a personality rather than a problem to be laid bare.

The reader is given an access-all-areas pass into her thoughts and feelings. We are told nothing, but shown everything. 

Her words are rattling together like the ice-cubes in her see through drinks.

Her journey starts when she discovers a wig tucked at the bottom of a chest of drawers belonging to her foster mother. It triggers a reaction and an impulse to journey to Ireland in search of her estranged mother. Her voice is convincing and powerful throughout. Never once did I NOT believe this was a young teenage girl flitting from emotion to emotion. 

The supporting characters are equally well-written. We are given the measure of all of them in just a few lines - foster mother Fiona - 'She was the kind of person who dresses poorer than she is...'. See - bloody genius writing. All of it. My particular favourite was the country music-loving, vegan trucker Phil. Or as Holly says, 'God on the road'.

Why is it so much easier to write about the flaws that I find in a book rather than all the beautiful bits? That is why writing this review has been so difficult - because this book is perfect.

I was Solace the Unstoppable, the smooth-walking, sharp-talking glamour girl, and I was walking into a red sky, ready to hitch a ride. I was crossing the sea and landing in Ireland. The I was walking up a hill to meet my mam, breathing in the morning air by the pint. This is how I thought myself into the sweet, soft day on the other side of the sea where the grass is green. That night and every other night for weeks to come, I traced the road.

After reading that, I don't think I really need to tell you how astonishing the writing is. It makes it all the more sad when I remember that the author is no longer here to write more sad but beautiful words. 

TRAVEL TIPS?

It feels a bit flippant to write about bog-standard travel tips in the context of this book. Holly's journey is very much a metaphorical one, so much more so than any other travel fiction I've read in the last few weeks. So, in a break from the norm, I'm going to let Holly describe her own thoughts about MY turf, my little corner of west London - 

Shepherds Bush, I knew from my travels with Grace and Trim, was on the tube. It wouldn't be green and lush with sheep and shepherds, it would be roads and fumes. In my head, I was already standing at the start of the motorway and sticking out my thumb.

Roads and fumes, yes. But so much more. Remember, it's also the end of a motorway as well as the beginning of one. So I will end my last travel month review by saying that one of the best things about travelling is coming back home again.

REVIEW - 'A Monster Calls', Patrick Ness (Walker Books, 2011)

Lonely thirteen-year-old Conor is going though some more dramatic-than-usual upheavals for a teenage boy. When he is awoken one night by an unexpected visitor, he begins a painful journey. But can he face up to it's conclusion?

I yanked this book from the shelf of my local library with a giddy head - I've only completed the first third of Ness's Chaos Walking Trilogy (a more about my slow-coach reasoning later), but this one book was more than enough to get me mega-excited about this offering.

Based on an idea by the Carnegie-medal-winning author, Siobhan Dowd, Patrick Ness was asked to turn the idea into a novel after Dowd tragically died of cancer.

This book sat heavy on my heart. But in a good way, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Conor's long, often silent days of solitude, at home and at school are bleakly atomospheric. The gradual reveal of the reasons behind his suffering is skillfully done. He is not necessarily a lovable character - he is stubborn, his own worst enemy - but I just wanted to give him a great big bear hug. Probably exactly the sort of reaction that would repel him. You get the picture.

The structure builds up the tension magnificently - The arrival of the monster in the dead of the night kicks of the telling of three fables that lead up to the unveiling of Conor's own truth. The irony is, being a book filled with the most achingly beautiful monochrome illustrations, that nothing in this story is black and white. Everything serves to remind us of the complications and contradictions that are tangled up in the big decisions we have to make in life.

Ness uses his words to great effect - fully formed three dimensional characters leap from the page with just one line of dialogue. The monster, in particular, is like a prickly Dumbledore with twig fetish, if you can imagine such a thing.

One of the most important, most striking things about this book, is that it is a BOOK. 'Yes. I know' I hear you cry. 'This is a book blog, I am reading a book review, you silly mare. Of course it is a bloody book.' Now, I love my Kindle, I covert an iPad, but there is nothing like cradling a proper hardcover than relishes it's physical status. I mentioned Jim Kay's amazing illustrations earlier. They don't just compliment the story - but it would be half the book without (yes, apologies for stating the bleedin' obvious again). This aren't dainty pretty pictures by any means, but they are just perfect.

I mentioned my delay in reading the last two thirds of the Chaos Walking Trilogy. Well this also stems from beautiful book syndrome - I was fortunate enough to find a pristine hardcover copy of 'The Knife of Never Letting Go' in the second hand bookshop where I used to work. Now, I can't NOT buy equally pristine copies of the other two, but this shall have to wait until funds permit me to do so. Gosh darn it.