Michael Morpurgo

David and Tucky are two small boys from London who get evacuated to Devon along with the rest of their school during WWII. Both get taken in by a kindly farmer and his wife and quickly make friends with the resident sheepdog, Jip. At the village school the boys remain outsiders, and when they spot a German bomber about to crash on the moor, nobody but their hosts believes them. Eventually the search is called off, and David and Tucky decide to look for it off their own bat. Just as the boys show more are crossing a stream on their way back to the farm, David loses his footing and one of the German airmen, in hiding up until then, saves his life.

I love Michael Morpurgo's writing, it is so understated yet manages to convey so much with only a few words: the deprivation faced by the people in London, especially David and his widowed mother; the love for her son that is apparent (to another mother) in the ritual of a daily early-morning apple; the heartache caused by the impending separation; the strong bond that develops between the two children as they struggle to make friends in the village school, being regarded as 'townies' and outsiders; and the inner conflict taking place inside the boys, especially David, as they deceive their hosts and help the two German airmen. In all his books I've come across so far, Morpurgo speaks to the child (irrelevant if the child is the actual reader or if it's read by an adult), and he always treats them as grown-ups, as someone who has opinions that are worth hearing, challenging their emotional involvement in the process of reading. Unfortunately the last chapter felt a bit rushed in my opinion, and the thoughts of the adults remained largely unexplored; with such a thought-provoking subject matter I would have welcomed a little more discussion of the story's morality as seen by the farmer, his French wife or the Home Guard officer, for instance.

A tale for children about ambivalence created by conflict, and how important it is to see the human being underneath the enemy's uniform, it manages to be thought-provoking without being too moralistic. show less

"They've gone now, and I'm alone at last. I have the whole night ahead of me, and I won't waste a single moment of it. I shan't sleep it away. I won't dream it away either. I mustn't, because every moment of it will be far too precious.

I want to try to remember everything, just as it was, just as it happened. I've had nearly eighteen years of yesterdays and tomorrows, and tonight I must remember as many of them as I can. I want tonight to be long, as long as my life, not filled with fleeting

show more

dreams that rush me on towards dawn.

Tonight, more than any other night of my life, I want to feel alive."

Thus begins young Tommo Peaceful's narration of his short life story, which he tells us in several segments throughout the night. It isn't quite clear what dawn will bring, but we know he's racing against the clock—actually, not a clock, but a watch that his beloved older brother Charlie has given him. As Thomas Peaceful recounts their childhood growing up in wretched poverty after the loss of their father, in a small town run by a cruel and egomaniac Colonel, but with the joy of a special friendship with a girl who is close to both brothers, with the relative freedom allowed in a rural setting, we are made all too aware that Tommo is writing his tale while he is in the midst or World War I, which he and Charlie have so far spent fighting in Yprès amid the gruel trench warfare that senselessly took countless lives. Another short but powerful novel by Murporgo, who's [War Horse] I recently read, this one has been nominated for and won a slew of awards, and they are well deserved. Haunting. show less

The New York Times blurb on the back calls this "a page turner young readers can finish over one stormy afternoon." I can't think of a better book to read, or read aloud to younger children, in a rain-spattered tent or even better, a lighthouse hostel, over the course of an inclement afternoon. I endorse The Puffin Keeper for use as an emergency vacation book.

I was delighted to receive a review copy of The Puffin Keeper from the publisher via LibraryThing Early Reviewers, and doubly show more delighted with the story itself. It's a children's novel told in first person as the life story of a young boy. When still a very small child, Allen and his mother are among thirty survivors of a shipwreck who are rescued by a taciturn lighthouse keeper, Ben Postlethwaite. With scarcely a word exchanged, Ben and Allen connect on a very deep level. For the rest of his childhood, Allen treasures Ben's painting of a ship ("just like ours") sailing past a lighthouse. It makes the misery of life with unsympathetic and tyrannical grandparents more bearable and lightens the darkness of boarding school. After school leaving, Allen seeks Ben out, but after a few months he receives call-up papers and has to enlist in the Navy.

The Puffin Keeper is a jewel of a story: small, precious, many-faceted, and perfect. After the interruptions of school, naval warfare, and a Nazi prison camp, Allen's life comes back to the lighthouse and a very satisfying ending. Although the themes are deep and nuanced, the story itself is positive: Allen "didn't like the war, but I liked being a sailor" and doesn't say much else about his experiences. He's shipwrecked, sent to the prison camp, escapes "just as I had run away from school, ran fast, but not fast enough." And the following page wraps up his wartime experiences. Most of the book is devoted to the things in Allen's life that bring him joy.

Since Benjamin Postlethwaite's art is such an important part of Allen's story, the choice of an illustrator was very important, and Benji Davies's work is perfect for this book. It's not often that a chapter book has plentiful and beautiful illustrations that support the text in such cooperation. show less

Over the years I’ve read a few of Morpurgo’s multitude of children’s books. All were solid enough to complete, but I found they occasionally lapsed into the sentimental and the prose was unremarkable. Consequently, I was pleasantly surprised by this book, a collection of five stories set in beautifully described Cornwall, most on farms, and all incorporating elements of local legend and folklore.

In an introductory note, Morpurgo advises his young audience to read the stories in order, show more explaining that the reason will become clear in the end. It does. The very fine final story focuses on Mad Miss Marney, an elderly woman who lives in a lone book-filled house on the high moor, against whom parents have warned their children. One child, the wild and wandering Kate, looks for a reason to meet Miss Marney, and nature provides her with one. She discovers that the elderly woman has the gift of healing—and another talent, too. That talent explains how the stories are linked.

My favourite tale in the book concerns a unhappy young boy with a deformed foot who discovers that the sadness and impairment he experiences on land disappear when he swims in the sea and is befriended by a playful seal. It’s a lovely story.

It was a pleasure to read this book, possibly because I’ve read so much less-than-magical adult fiction and nonfiction recently. Morpurgo’s vocabulary is quite sophisticated here and might prove to be too daunting for some young readers. With the majority of stories set on farms, it is possible, too, that a few details could upset the most sensitive children. Overall, though, the prose is wonderful and the stories most satisfying. In completing this book, I thought of the title of another by Katherine Rundell: Why You Should Read Children's Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise. This book is why.

Note: This is a rewrite of a review posted this morning, which unfortunately completely vanished to some glitch in Goodreads. show less