Finished reading Grimble to Maddy last night. It was a huge success. I enjoyed it reading it and revisiting an old childhood favourite enough that I went back down to the basement library and found a copy of My Friend Mr Leakey by J.B.S. Haldane (the eminent scientist, the one who, when asked by a priest what one could learn about the Creator by studying nature, replied that one could tell that God had "an inordinate fondness for beetles"). I also pulled out the first three Margaret Storey 'Melinda' books "Timothy and Two Witches" "The Stone Sorcerer" (which, bizarrely, was retitled "The Stone Wizard" in the edition I own) and "The Dragon's Sister/Timothy Travels". I remember the first three or four of those books as being the real thing -- strange and magical and, above all, dangerous -- but that the series got more forced and cute and less vital as it went on.
Margaret Storey is more or less out of print these days, alas. I loved her when I was about seven or eight, and am looking forward to finding out how much of her stuff has wound up in mine. I know it's her fault that I plant rowan trees wherever I live.
Margaret Storey is more or less out of print these days, alas. I loved her when I was about seven or eight, and am looking forward to finding out how much of her stuff has wound up in mine. I know it's her fault that I plant rowan trees wherever I live.
