Guest Post by Johnny O'Brien (Author of the Jack Christie Adventures)

When I started The Book Zone the first review I posted was for Day of the Assassins by Johnny O'Brien. It was a book I had really enjoyed and thought it was a great boy-friendly read with which to start this blog. Since then two more books in the Jack Christie Adventures have been published, with Day of Vengeance being the latest. Johnny did a Q and A for The Book Zone back in April, and now he is back as part his Jack Christie Adventures blog tour, with his answer to a question I posed him: 

How can writing about history engage younger readers, and particularly boys?

Mmmm. How can I best answer this question? Maybe the best way is to take you straight over to the skies above Kent. It’s August, 1940...

“Then Jack spotted it. A single BF109 heading for home.

“This is Red Two. Snapper ten o’clock low. Tally-Ho! Tally-Ho!”

“Good luck Red Two.”

“Breaking – port forty-five degrees.”

Jack tipped the Supermarine Mark 1B into a steep dive. The twenty-seven litre Merlin III engine screamed as the Spitfire topped four hundred miles an hour, slicing through the freezing air. As Jack levelled out, the G-force crushed him into his seat. Surely the wings would be ripped from the fuselage? But he had managed it perfectly. He peered through the spinning disc of the airscrew at the yellow-nosed Messerschmitt 109 only a hundred metres ahead. The German pilot hadn’t noticed Jack on his tail, so focused was he on his run for the Channel. Jack flicked the gun button to fire and put the reflector sight on. He eased the dot in the middle onto the 109’s fuselage and, as he eased closer, the Messerschmitt drew into the cross hairs. Jack pressed the button. The four .303 Browning machine guns and the two 20mm Hispano canons let rip and the cockpit filled with the smell of cordite. The flank of the 109 was peppered. Instantly, glycol from the cooling system ignited and there was an explosion of white vapour. The 109 flipped onto its back and started to arc into a long, lazy dive. A few seconds before, the German pilot had been heading for home – free. Now he was dead and plummeting to an icy grave, still strapped to his seat. It was no better than cold-blooded murder. Jack was hypnotised and trailed the 109 towards the metallic grey of the sea, far below.

It was a schoolboy error.

The first Jack knew about it was the streaks of angry tracer millimetres above his perspex canopy. A second 109. He should have known better. They always hunt in pairs.

“Red One, Red One – Snapper on my tail.”

But the R/T just crackled. Red One wasn’t coming to his rescue any time soon.

He remembered Angus’s words to him not an hour before: “Never fly straight and level for more than twenty seconds. If you do, you’ll die.”

The Supermarine Spitfire and the Messerschmitt BF109 were the best fighter planes of their day. They were comparable but each had particular strengths. Jack’s training cut in as he remembered the one strength of the Spitfire, which might just save his life. He threw the Spit into a savage turn and glanced over his shoulder. The 109 was still with him – a dirty orange flash from its guns showed that the German was still clamped to his tail like a limpet. Jack heard rounds rip into his fuselage and suddenly a bullet passed right through his canopy, inches from his face. Jack cursed his luck. Trust him to pick a fight with a real pro. He gulped in oxygen from the clammy mask.

Jack tightened the turn and glanced at the instruments to see how badly he was hit – glycol at 100 degrees; oil pressure 70lbs – miraculously still OK – but suddenly his head felt heavy... the brutal speed and tightness of the turn was causing him to black out. If he could hold on he might just survive. Words from his training flashed through his head, “A Spit can turn tighter than a 109 – hold it long enough and the 109 can’t stay with you – he will trace a gradually widening circle in the sky and you may just live...”

Suddenly, the Spitfire started to shake – a high-speed stall. Jack bit his lip to stop himself losing consciousness and a drop of blood trickled down the inside of his mask. He knew it was possible to hold the Spit in the stall... if you were a good enough pilot. He was about to find out if he was. Jack made a fourth turn and snatched a glance at the pursuing 109. Suddenly he saw it wobble – it was also stalling – Jack’s heart soared... the German pilot was being forced to ease the turn to avoid engine failure. It was a matter of millimetres but it would save Jack’s life. A few more mad loops in the sky and Jack started to gain on the 109. His neck muscles were screaming for him to stop, but in seconds the tables would be turned and Jack would have the 109 in his own cross hairs. Sure enough the 109 crept into his sight. Jack felt the adrenaline surge through him and he stabbed the fire button. Again, he heard the staccato rip of his guns, but he had fired prematurely and the rounds flew high and wide. He tried again. Nothing. He was out of ammo already.

Abruptly, his adversary released the 109 from its turn and, just for a moment, Jack caught his eyes peeking out from the white strip of face between helmet and mask. The German pilot touched his temple briefly with an outstretched palm – it was a wry acknowledgement, which meant simply, “Until next time, my friend.”

The sun flashed briefly on the grey tail fin of the 109 as he finally broke for home and then... he was gone.

Jack was alone again in the great blue emptiness, ten thousand feet above the green meadows of Kent.

Alive.

Still there? Good. If you are a young reader, and perhaps particularly a young male reader, I do hope you enjoyed this short extract from Day of Vengeance, the third in the Jack Christie series. I hope you were ‘engaged’ and I hope you would like to read on.

As well as, hopefully, being entertained, you may not realise it, but you have also learnt quite a lot. In a mere page of text, you’ve learnt some of the things that I had to learn in order to write it: you’ve learnt something about the respective capabilities of the two best fighter aircraft of their day, you’ve learnt something about the aerial tactics about how they would engage, you’ve learnt something about the specifications of the aircraft and you may possibly, have learnt something about what it might have felt like to be there. In doing so, you might sit back and reflect – what would I do in that situation, and would I have been good enough and brave enough? So – you might also have learnt something about yourself.

What you’ve been reading is history - a brilliant and thrilling subject which is endlessly fascinating but also teaches great skills which are applicable whatever you end up doing as in life – maybe even being a fighter pilot.

~~~

Huge thanks to Johnny for writing another brilliant guest post for The Book Zone. If you love time travel adventures with great historical settings then these books are for you.

Guest Post by Stephen Wallenfels (author of POD)

Since I started The Book Zone I have occasionally expressed my disappointment at the lack of good space/alien-centric science fiction stories for the 11+ age group. Keith Mansfield has been leading the way with his excellent Johnny Mackintosh series, and now Stephen Wallenfels has entered the fray with POD. Thanks to the good people at Templar I have already read Stephen's book, and did so in a single sitting as I enjoyed it so much. My review will appear on The Book Zone soon but in the meantime Stephen has embarked on a blog tour (more details here) and has kindly written a piece about some of the science fiction books and films he enjoyed as a boy.


SCIFI BOOKS AND MOVIES FROM MY YOUTH THAT INFLUENCED MY WRITING

I read a lot of sci-fi books as a kid, but three stand out as especially important. The first was 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by Jules Verne. What impressed me most about that book was that when he wrote it the idea of breathing and living under water was science fiction, and now it is science fact. That set the stage for helping me believe that as crazy as these books and concepts may sound, there is a chance that they can become real.

My creativity gene was twitching.

Then I read War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells (actually I think my father read it to me). That book presented an alien invasion in such a realistic way I had trouble sleeping for weeks. And the third book was one a lot of people haven’t heard about these days but is a classic, and also gave me quite a scare: The Day of the Triffids, by John Wyndham. Combine that with plenty of Flash Gordon comics, short stories by Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov, the Dune trilogy by Frank Herbert, and I was hooked like a fish. Not only could I write about the future, I could predict it. I could create worlds along with the amazing creatures that inhabit them! My creativity gene mutated into an uncontrollable force.

Meanwhile, as my brain is being fed the written word, my eyes are feeding me visions on the screen through TV shows and movies. I watched every episode of Star Trek and would even miss baseball practice to do it. Old movie classics like The Day the Earth Stood Still, Planet of the Apes, Journey to the Center of the Earth kept me on the edge of my seat. Then came Star Wars, 2001 Space Odyssey, The Thing, and of course (wait for it…) Alien. With a diet like that I couldn’t help but give in to my destiny: write a science fiction novel.

An important point to note is that these two movies, The Thing and Alien had a profound impact on how I structured POD. In those movies, the most frightening parts are leading up to the alien reveal. The parts where you don’t know what the alien looks like (and neither do the characters) that are the most frightening—and I took that approach with POD. I decided not to reveal the aliens for two reasons—one, I wanted to prolong the sense of dread to the bitter end, and two—I wanted to focus on the characters rather than the aliens. Their role was to create a situation that stressed people to the point that they were capable of doing things (great and not so great) that under normal circumstances they would never do. That is the true test of the human spirit and that is what I wanted in POD.

Review: The Pirate Cruncher by Jonny Duddle

One dark and stormy night, a salty old sea dog tells the tale of a mysterious island, bursting with pirate booty! Captain Purplebeard and his crew have already set sail by the time the cove mentions the hideous Pirate Cruncher who guards the gold…

I first came across Jonny Duddle's work through the incredible illustrations he has done for Barry Hutchison's Invisible Fiends books. His drawings of each of the Fiends sets the reader up with a perfect mental image before they even start reading the book. I have followed Jonny's blog for some time, but never had the chance to read any of his books until now. Thanks to the generous people at Templar I am now the grateful owner of this book, The Pirate Cruncher, and Jonny's latest offering, The Pirates Next Door (review to follow some time soon).

Jonny has already demonstrated to the world that he has a talent for drawing detailed characters through that Invisible Fiends work, but my first question was whether he would be able to bring these skills as effectively to a whole picture book. The answer is a resounding yes! In The Pirate Cruncher Jonny Duddle introduces us to a motley crew of fully detailed and beautifully rendered pirates, each with their very own character traits, making it the kind of picture book that young boys will love. This band of pirates is led by the avaricious Captain Purplebeard, a man who will becomes obsessed with the promise of a great treasure, and will not be swayed from his quest even when warned that a horrible sea monster may be waiting for him at the journey's end (a big old beast, who likes nothing more than a pirate feast).

This book is worth buying purely for the artwork (just wait until you get to the huge double fold-out page near the end!), but there is also a nice little tale accompanying these stunning illustrations. We first meet our pirate crew supping their ale in the Thirsty Parrot. Their carousing is interrupted by the song sung by a passing fiddler, who tells the tale of "an island of gold in the scurvy sea". As the sun rises the next morning the pirates have already embarked on their quest for the treasure, unaware that their greed as already set them on the path to their ultimate doom. Within this tale is also a subtle moral message regarding greed and how it can affect your judgement, and also blind you from the fact that you may be being manipulated (look very carefully at the mysterious fiddler).

The text of the story is largely written in rhyme, although this is not Mr Duddle's strongest attribute. Sometimes these rhymes scan very well, at other times the pattern of the rhyming changes and so some children may find this a little difficult to read for themselves. There are also some sections of text, notably that which appears in the thought bubbles of the various pirates, that do not fit with the rhyming sections and although they add to the various pirates' characters they can also tend to interrupt the flow of the story.  

Kids will probably get the most from this book when it is read by a parent. However, some parents may feel a little daunted at the thought of doing the different pirate voices in character. Have no fear, for the edition I received came complete with an audio CD featuring Jonny Duddle reading the story and himself changing voice for each different character, accompanied by various sound effects and some suitably piratical music. This is one picture book that is so stunning that it is going to remain in my own collection and not get passed on to my little nephew.... sorry James!

Guest Post by Don Calame (Author of Swim The Fly)

Last Monday I posted my review of the hilarious Swim The Fly. Now the book's author Don Calame has kindly taken time out of his busy UK tour schedule to write this great guest post.

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Ideas and Inspiration

It’s the question you’re asked all the time at book readings: Where do you get your ideas from? Some writers will make a joke out of it and say they get their ideas from the Idea Depot on the corner near the grocery story. Other authors will say their ideas just come to them out of the ether. And yet others will try to avoid the question all together and change the subject.

The truth is, ideas for stories can come from anywhere. They can come from a news article that sparks your imagination in some way. They can come from an overheard conversation at the mall. Or from a song lyric that sticks in your head. From a funny story your friend tells you. Or a picture you see in a magazine.

In the case of my book, Swim the Fly, the idea came from something that actually happened to me.

For those of you who don’t know, Swim the Fly is the story of three fifteen year old boys who set a summertime goal of attempting to see a real-live naked girl for the very first time. Movies don’t count, magazines don’t count, the internet doesn’t count.

The goal proves quite difficult to achieve, especially considering none of the boys have ever had a girlfriend, and the three of them are the least athletic kids on the swim team.But believe it or not, the naked girl aspect of the novel was not the original germ of the story.

The swim team was.

When I was a teenager my mom would sign my sister and me up for the swimming team every summer. I was not a particularly strong swimmer (in fact, I have quite a few green fifth place ribbons to prove it) and I always chose to participate in the breaststroke events because I found the stroke the easiest.

One summer—when I was fifteen, coincidentally—my swim coach approached me and told me that, since our team’s butterflier had gone on to bigger and better things, I was to swim in the 100 yard butterfly event at our championship meet.

This absolutely terrified me. Partly because my swim coach was an imposing woman who you did not say no to. But mostly because I could not even complete a single lap of butterfly. Why she chose me to swim this event still baffles me to this day.

Anyway, I practiced and practiced the butterfly for the entire summer. As the championship meet approached, I was just barely able to complete four laps of butterfly without drowning.

On the day of the swim meet I stepped up onto the starter’s block and looked over at my competition. The only person I could see was this giant of a kid. He was the best swimmer in the entire league and he was enormous. Arnold Schwarzenegger enormous. With tree trunk legs, massive arms, and stone-cut muscles absolutely everywhere. I swear, this kid’s feet were ripped.

And here I am, this stick-skinny kid, a broomstick in a bathing suit, having to swim head-to-head with a gorilla.

Needless to say, I was terrified. And when the starter raised his pistol to signal the beginning of the race, I was hoping he would just lower the gun, point it at me, and put me out of my misery.

I’d written a very short piece about this incident at a writing workshop some time ago and promptly tucked it into a drawer. There it sat for several years until I’d decided (with some strong persuading by my wife) to write a humorous YA novel for boys.

I’d read over this two-page scribble and the seed for the book was planted.

And so, you see, ideas for stories can come from absolutely anywhere.

Even harrowing and embarrassing incidents from your teenagehood.

Maybe even ESPECIALLY from those times.