Amy Smith Literature

It has been a busy few weeks in the realm of engaging students with reading. Our Year 6 Summer Reading Challenge has drawn to a close (with students responding creatively to the novel they read over the 6 weeks), Open Evening in the school library (where students added their favourite books to our “shelfie” display), and prizes for the “1000 Minute Reading Challenge” (download here).

As well as that, I have been having lots of conversations with staff from all subject areas about how we can promote “reading for pleasure”. If you’re following this series of blogposts, you will already know that I’m particularly interested in engaging with students in Year 9 and above – where there is a relative dearth of resources (in comparison to the wealth of ideas available online for students in Key Stages 2 and 3). I want to inspire these students to experience the joy of RfP – which @blodwyn22 describes on X as “entering into a world and mapping the mind newly, engaged, absorbed, feeling, experiencing somehow”. What a gift to pass on to the next generation!

These discussions have prompted a plethora of questions.

• Does RfP have to be fiction, or can it include non-fiction?
• Do audiobooks count?
• Should students always finish a book – or can they give up and choose a new one?
• Do magazine and newspaper articles count?
• How long should students read for every week?

I think these questions reveal a certain anxiety around reading beyond the classroom and what that “should” look like. As someone who reads voraciously, if parameters were set on my reading I would be frustrated and probably completely switched off. We need to celebrate normal reading habits with our older students – which might mean picking up a book and not finishing it, or not reading for a few days and then binging on a compelling novel the next weekend. This is particularly the case when we are encouraging older students to read, as they will need to learn to balance deadlines, exam prep, coursework, and uni applications with grown-up approaches to wellbeing.

But how do we do this? One simple strategy I use is displaying my current reading on the opening slide for each lesson. Sometimes there are lots of books in the box and occasionally – like this week – there is just one. Often students ask me about my reading (yesterday, one student said “do you really read all these books?”), and sometimes they don’t. I’m totally honest in my responses, explaining why I do or don’t like the book, what I’ve learned from it, and whether I’m listening to it or reading it in the traditional way. It is in these conversations that I can (slowly) feel the tide turning from indifference to interest… and hopefully to more students choosing to pick up a book.

Author of the Week

I sometimes find it challenging to find quality books to recommend to older readers – so each blogpost I’m going to share an absolute gem that I would love my KS4 or KS5 students to read.

This week it is Catherine Johnson. You might have come across her “high-low” books for struggling readers in Years 6-8.

But Johnson also writes for older readers too – and her murder mystery Sawbones is a triumph. The year is 1792 and the teenage protagonist – Ezra McAdam – is an apprentice with a celebrated London anatomist, and so the opening of the novel immediately plunges us into the world of body-snatching, dissection theatres, and the excitement of advances in medical science. But one day Ezra’s life changes; the body snatchers deliver a murder victim and the young anatomist finds himself caught up in a dangerous hunt for the perpetrator. If you are teaching Jekyll and Hyde at GCSE, Sawbones is a fabulous companion text – and if you aren’t, it is a wonderful journey through Victorian London.

A long time has passed since my last blog post: too long! I have almost forgotten the joy of writing these.

But in that time I have been working on another project (watch this space), as well as some resources for students: my Macbeth revision videos are now available here and my updated Othello teaching booklet is available here. Feel free to use, chop, or change them for your students. I have also started some work on Keats, which is here.

Another area I have been working on is the thorny topic of reading for pleasure. If you have been following me for a while, you will know that I have been interested in this for quite some time. However, since Christmas I have been more intentional in my reading and research, revelling in the sheer exuberance of many Young Adult books and exploring how and why we should be encouraging students to read beyond the curriculum.

You will be familiar with the frequently cited statistics from the National Literacy Trust, which state that only 1 in 5 young people aged 8 to 18 read daily. Whilst this statistic is sobering, I am actually always surprised that it is so high; when I speak to secondary students about reading, I rarely hear from anyone who will admit to enjoying settling down with a good book. Perhaps this is because the discussion usually takes place in a classroom, where they fear losing face if they admit to such an “embarrassing” hobby! The few eager readers tend to stay behind at the end of class to tell me about their recent forays into “realms of gold”. However, in contrast in July I did an assembly for incoming Year 6 students, in which I asked them about their reading habits. They were literally fizzing with excitement to tell me about their favourite books and authors and were so excited when we gave them a copy of our summer reading book to take home (I am Rebel by Ross Montgomery – absolutely awesome).

Moving from this anecdotal knowledge to something a bit more empirical, the NLT research shows that reading habits change significantly as students arrive at secondary school. Whilst 44.5% of students aged 5 to 8 read daily in their free time, only 31.1% of students aged 8 to 11 say the same. This falls further when considering students aged 11 to 14 – where only 17.1% of students read daily. And in the crucial GCSE years, only 14% of students read daily. Yet the enjoyment is there when I read aloud with my classes; there were audible gasps in November when the Ghost of Christmas Present said to Scrooge “are there no workhouses?”, the end of Act 2 of An Inspector Calls is always a high point, and a skilled, fast-paced reading of Act 3 of Othello gets students on the edge of their seats.

So how do we encourage students in Year 9 and above to choose to read independently, outside of lessons? And is it worth investing time and resources into encouraging reading for pleasure, when there are so many other issues to address? What even is “reading for pleasure”, and is that the best term to use?

These are the questions I will be seeking to answer over the next few months of blogposts. I will also suggest books and activities that might be appropriate for this age-group. If you have any suggestions or comments, you can contact me on X (@amy_smith117).

For now, here is a download to challenge your students with this half-term: can they read for 1000 minutes? A word of warning though: when I gave this to my classes before the holidays, they instantly pointed out that they could easily just fill in the tracker without doing any reading at all. I light-heartedly agreed with them – they could “game” the system very easily in order to win a prize (book badges, crocheted animals, stationery…) that is paltry in comparison with the true prize of enjoyment, positive wellbeing, and cultural capital. I told them that I trusted them that if they were going to take up the challenge, they would do it honestly.

Reflecting on my reading over the past year, I have found that I have been drawn to a considerable amount of historical fiction, most of which takes the lives of marginalised women as a starting point. Here are my top recommendations in this genre – as usual, in no particular order.

The Maiden by Kate Foster

In June I did a literary walking tour of Edinburgh (I know, a book geek’s dream!), and then we went down into the dank warren known as Mary King’s Close. It was then that I discovered that what I had imagined to be Edinburgh’s underground tunnels were technically not underground at all; instead, the closes that run perpendicular to the Royal Mile and cut steeply downwards actually mark the original street level. From the 18th century onwards, these closes were gradually covered over by new buildings, leaving the old streets, houses, and businesses below ground level.

So when a friend lent me The Maiden, I was fascinated to find a seventeenth-century tale set largely set in one of Edinburgh’s closes. The novel’s jumping-off point is the murder of James Forrester by his niece and lover, Lady Christian Nimmo, in October 1679. Foster reconstructs and reimagines the life of Lady Christian, exploring the mistreatment and marginalisation that led to her to the guillotine. Lady Christian’s ostensibly comfortable life is juxtaposed with that of another of Forrester’s lovers – the irrepressible Violet. Whereas Lady Christian was raised in affluent surroundings and was married off to a wealthy businessman, Violent was born in a close in Edinburgh. Orphaned at a young age, she survives the only way she knows how: by working in a brothel. Whilst their lives are strikingly different, both women are victims of judgement, sexual exploitation, and abuse. This novel’s themes resonate through history, as Foster reveals the importance of listening to the voices that society often ignores.

Fifteen Wild Decembers by Karen Powell

Like many English teachers (!), I fell in love with the Brontë sisters as a teenager. In contrast to the careful etiquette and polished language of Austen’s novels, I loved the raw emotion and wildness that the Brontës are so famous for. In this novel, Powell adopts the voice of Emily, tracing the family history from her childhood to her eventual death in 1848. Powell articulates Emily’s love of the local landscape, and her passion for reading and writing, as well as her struggle to find employment. The novel is haunted by heart-wrenching loss, from the death of Emily’s mother when the children were very young, to the sufferings of the older siblings (Maria and Elizabeth) who succumbed to tuberculosis before they even reached their teenage years. The descriptions of Emily and her father’s attempts to care for Branwell during his period of addiction and final illness are particularly moving.

For me, this is the power of historical fiction; unlike non-fiction biographies, by imagining Emily’s voice and experience, Powell is able to delve into her joys and sufferings. Whilst it can never be claimed that historical fiction is a completely accurate account, the skill of the writer is to combine research with creation, thus constructing a new version of the narrative. Writers such as Anne Berest (author of The Postcard) self-consciously highlight the limits of their imagination as they can never use scraps of documentary evidence to reconstruct true lived experience; nevertheless, the attempt is undeniably valuable.

Lady Macbethad by Isabelle Schuler

It is so easy to think about Lady Macbeth as a bitter, manipulative wife, frustrated by the limitations placed on women and determined to grasp power in whatever way she can. She is a character foil to Lady Macduff – the caring, defenceless mother who focusses on serving her husband and care for her children. Thus, Lady Macbeth is an unconventional woman whose death is a punishment for rebelling against the status quo. The question is, then, whether or not Shakespeare endorses this punishment (women can’t handle power). Or, perhaps he is using Lady Macbeth’s character to highlight the injustices done to women who deserve better.

This is the view that I was taught at school, and seems prevalent in English teaching. However, a range of new interpretations – including Schuler’s novel – look deeper into the context and consequently reveal a different side to this much-maligned Machiavellian schemer. Schuler imagines Gruoch’s childhood (yes, Lady Macbeth does have her own name!), situating her withing a violent and brutal environment in which Thanes were continually battling for power. There is also a struggle between paganism (which Gruoch’s maternal relatives follow) and Christianity (symbolised by the Kings of Scotland). As a young woman caught up in a vicious world, Gruoch has to be determined and courageous – as well as manipulative and ruthless – or she will not survive.

I really enjoyed reading this alternative view of Lady Macbeth’s life. The novel ends where Shakespeare begins, and thus provides a rich back story and psychological depth to a character who is often stereotyped. Schuler’s research shows how the Lady Macbeth we know from Shakespeare was shaped by her upbringing and environment into a character who does what it takes to survive.

Other Women by Emma Flint

True Crime is perhaps one of the most popular genres right now, with podcasts, TV programmes, and YouTubers all flooding the airwaves with stories old and new. Other Women falls into this category, taking the story of Emily Beilby Kaye as its starting point. Whereas Kate Foster (see above) was interested in what would drive a woman to commit a horrific crime, Flint’s choice of inspiration places the woman as the victim of male violence. Emily Kaye was murdered in April 1924, by her lover (Herbert Patrick Mahon). Flint’s research reveals that Mahon was presented by the media at the time as a charming family man trapped by a bitter and lonely woman; his only escape from her was to commit murder.

In Other Women, Flint recreates the characters as Tom Ryan (the married man), Beatrice Cade (his lover, whom he murders), and Kate Ryan (his wife). Unlike the 1920s journalists, Flint focusses on the experiences and voices of the women, as they are drawn in by Tom’s charismatic and attractive appearance and personality – only to discover too late that he is selfish and violent. Flint draws the two female characters so convincingly and vividly, highlighting their intelligence, ambitions, and strength of character.

Because we learn early on that Tom has been arrested for Beatrice’s murder, I’m not giving any spoilers when I write that the section of the book that struck me most is the reaction of the media and the observers to the murder trial. Their sympathy for Tom as the wronged man who was only looking for a way out of a difficult situation (which involved brutally murdering and dismembering his lover…) can only be described as sickening, and reveals how perceptions and stereotypes can be used to manipulate public opinion.

This is a real page-turner and I would highly recommend it to anyone who is looking for some crime fiction with real depth.

The Dance Tree by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

Hargrave transports us to Strasbourg, in 1518. The summer is unspeakably hot, and the people are suffering from famine, disease, and social unrest. Their lives are unsettled by religious turmoil, as the tensions which led to the Protestant Reformation are already brewing. In the midst of this, Lisbet is pregnant again – and having miscarried many times before, she is worried that she will lose this child too. For her, this is a heart-breaking situation – but for her wider family, Lisbet’s struggle reveals her “failure” as a wife.

Such struggles and pressures lead to the mysterious dance plague which grips hundreds of women living in the city. First, one woman starts dancing uncontrollably in the streets, and she is soon joined by more. They dance until their feet bleed and they collapse on the stones, with some women dying from exhaustion. Whilst many people have explained this plague as being the result of an infection or poisoning, the novel seems to lean towards the idea of mass hysteria. The women just cannot cope with the pressures placed upon them any more and so rebel against ideas of decorous behaviour and their domestic responsibilities.

Anyone who follows me on Twitter/X or who has spoken to me about reading knows that I find non-fiction tricky to read. The reason for this is that I need a strong narrative to drive the book forward, and I quickly get bogged down by the level of detail in non-fiction. Will I need to remember what year an event took place in, or the precise definition of a scientific term, or which theorist disagreed with someone else?

So this year, I’ve challenged myself to read more non-fiction, focussing on the narrative and not worrying too much about remembering all of the details (I can always look it up later, right?). I am not an absolute convert, but this approach has helped me warm to non-fiction a little bit more!

Anyway, in no particular order, here are my recommendations from the last year.

A History of Britain in 21 Women by Jenni Murray

This is exactly the kind of non-fiction text I can get on board with. Murray’s feminist approach to history means that her focus is on retelling the stories of those women who have been marginalised, and filling in the gaps left by a male-centric narrative. Each chapter focusses on a different woman, from figures I recognised easily (like Elizabeth I and Emmeline Pankhurst), to people who exist on the edge of my cultural knowledge (like Bodicea), to women I was much less familiar with (such as Ethyl Smyth). Whilst the details of each woman’s life were fascinating, what I enjoyed most was Murray’s continual focus on celebrating women’s achievements in a range of fields, from literature to politics to science. Whilst Murray sees these women as role models, she also doesn’t flinch from exploring their flaws too – the 21 are human, after all!

The Wager by David Grann

As I said above, I prefer reading non-fiction that is focussed around a narrative – and this book definitely delivered. The book tells the story of the eponymous Wager, a ship that was wrecked off the coast of Patagonia in 1741. Grann draws the characters beautifully, focussing in on how the motivations, personality, and flaws of each member of the ship’s crew might have contributed to the shipwreck and the men’s subsequent attempts to survive. That one of these men was Byron’s grandfather and one of the sources for Don Juan definitely helped to pique my interest!

What struck me most as I was reading was the fact that any of the men survived at all. Without giving away too much of the plot, there is typhus, scurvy, danger from storms and/or being becalmed, confrontations with Spanish ships, navigation errors, mutiny, murder, survival on a rather inhospitable island, travel in ships with varying levels of damage, rafts hastily lashed together that are supposed to last for 3000 miles… Sailors in 1741 were made of strong stuff. I was also really interested in Grann’s closing remarks, which explore the bias in the historical records. This tale of heroic survival against all the odds is essentially a celebration of white, male members of a colonial power (there is just one black sailor on board). The sailors’ own accounts of their voyage seem to be laced with prejudice, particularly when they describe the people they encounter in South America. So whilst it is a great story, Grann makes it clear that the sailors who wrote down their accounts give only their version.

The Postcard by Anne Berest

You might object to me including the translation The Postcard in a list of non-fiction books, but bear with me. Whilst it states very clearly on the cover that this is “a novel”, Berest’s investigation of her family’s deaths in the Holocaust is based on fact. The book begins with Anne and her mother (Lelia) receiving an unsigned postcard on which four names are written: Ephraim, Emma, Noemie, and Jacques. Ephraim and Emma are Anne’s great-grandparents, and Noemie and Jacques are her great aunt and uncle. They were all arrested in France in the 1940s, and then murdered at Auschwitz. Anne’s grandmother (Myriam) survived, but never spoke about what had happened.

The boundaries between fact and fiction are blurred in this narrative, as Anne and Lelia trawl through historical records, letters, diaries, and memoirs to piece together the history of their family. Although the narrative is built on a foundation of historical fact, Berest makes it very clear that the precise details are imagined. For example, in one heart-breaking chapter, she writes that when Ephraim and Emma prepare to be arrested, they are convinced that they are being taken to work. Emma selects sensible clothing and shoes that she will be able to walk in.

Every page of this book brought something new to my understanding of the events of the 1940s, particularly in my comprehension of the events following the end of the war. The description of Myriam waiting for the busses bringing people back from the concentration camps and her gradual realisation of the full horror of what the survivors had been through is overwhelming.

A Life on Our Planet by David Attenborough

I listened to the audiobook version of this, because absolutely nothing can replace the voice of the legend that is David Attenborough. Attenborough makes the focus of the book unmistakably clear from the first page: we have a beautiful planet, and we just about have time to save it. Attenborough’s prose is elegant and punchy at the same time, and his passion for our world and its future pervades every sentence. (As an English teacher, I couldn’t help thinking what a great choice this would be for Language Paper 2!)

Your Brain, Explained by Marc Dingman

When I was lent this book, my colleague won me over by telling me that each chapter begins with a story about a psychological condition. These real-life examples were highly engaging, and the subsequent explanations about the neurological reasons behind each behaviour or experience were well-explained for a reader with very little knowledge of the topic. Thanks to Dr W (who taught me GCSE Science), I was able to grapple with some of the vocabulary relating to the different areas of the brain and neurons – although I must admit I did get a bit lost when Dingman went beyond that!

What non-fiction books are on my TBR pile?

I have just started reading Wanderers: A History of Women Walking by Kerri Andrews. They say not to judge a book by it’s cover – but the cover is beautiful, and the descriptions are too. It promises to be a meditative and informative read. Then I have The Great White Bard by Farah Karim-Cooper, The Bronte Myth by Lucasta Miller, Seaglass by Kathryn Tann, and The Gift of the Gab by David Crystal.

When I started my teacher training, my PGCE tutor recommended that I read more Young Adult fiction. Having graduated from children’s books to fantasy (mainly Tolkien) to “books for grown ups”, I almost completely skipped the YA genre in my teenage years. Consequently, I was unaware of the wealth of absolute brilliance written for young people. In my current role leading on reading at school, I have plunged into the world of YA fiction so that I can design relevant resources and make reading recommendations.

So here are my top 10 recommendations of YA books. I have read many of these while collaborating with our fabulous Curriculum Leaders for RS, Computer Science, and English to create reading challenges for Key Stage 3. Our focus has been compiling selections of books which will function as satellite texts for the schemes of work in these subject areas, but which are also highly engaging and provide a diverse range of voices and experiences.

The list below isn’t in any particular order – the books are ALL fabulous.

Safiyyah’s War by Hiba Noor Khan

Anyone who has spoken to me about YA fiction over the last year knows that this is my absolute favourite at the moment. Set in Paris during the Second World War, this novel is a coming-of-age story about a young teenager who realises that her father is helping to smuggle members of the Jewish community out of Paris. Safiyyah begins to support her father in his Resistance work, trying to save as many lives as possible.

There are so many things to love about this novel. The writing style is fabulous, being both highly readable and with beautiful turns of phrase. The plotting is also exemplary, as is the novel’s central message about how religious communities can help one another.

This novel would be most suitable for Year 7.

The Song Walker by Zillah Bethel

Like Safiyyah’s War, The Song Walker is about connections between cultures. The main character wakes up in the Australian Outback, alone and with no memory of who she is or how she got there. All she knows is that she has only one shoe, is wearing a black dress, and is carrying a mysterious locked case. With no knowledge of how to survive in the blistering heat, she is fortunate to meet Tarni – a First Nation Australian who is able to find food and water, and direct them towards safety. As the girls walk, they find out more about one another’s cultures, and try to solve the puzzle of the locked case.

There is some beautiful writing in this novel, and it is a great way of starting conversations about respect for other cultures and beliefs.

This novel would be most suitable for Year 7.

Yusuf Azeem is not a Hero by Saadia Faruqi

I read this novel when I was putting together our Computer Science reading challenge list. As it had been recommended to me as being a book focussed on computers, I was (pleasantly) surprised to find that it is a really complex novel which links an interest in computer programming and robotics with themes of cultural identity, home and belonging, religion, and the importance of history. The novel begins with the protagonist – Yusuf – entering middle school in the small town of Frey, Texas. He is immediately subject to racism and bullying due to his Muslim faith. Yusuf has to find a way to navigate the tricky teenage business of finding himself and cementing a group of friends, along with the daily threat of racist behaviour towards him. In this journey he is helped by reading his uncle’s teenage diaries, which were written in 2001 – the year of the 9/11 attacks. Yusuf’s uncle was absolutely horrified at the attacks, and soon found that students at school began to treat him differently because of his religion. The novel expertly splices together the two narratives to provide a layered consideration of identity. What really shines through is the depth of Yusuf’s faith, and the comfort he finds in prayer.

I would recommend this novel for Years 7 or 8.

The Last Whale by Chris Vick

Like Yusuf Azeem, I read this because of the link with Computer Science – but this time the focus is on AI rather than robotics. So while Yusuf Azeem culminates in the protagonist’s involvement in a “robot wars” style competition, The Last Whale explores how AI can be used positively in the fight against climate change. Like many YA novels, this book uses teenage characters as a way into tackling big themes. On this occasion, the teenage protagonist (Abby) embarks on a family holiday to visit her grandmother on a remote island off the Norwegian coast. Like many novels written for teens, the protagonist has had problems with school, is rebelling against her parents, and is absolutely appalled when she learns that there is no internet access at her grandmother’s house. However, the novel swiftly moves beyond this cliché to reveal that Abby is an eco-warrior in possession of a powerful AI computer which she intends to use to battle climate change.

This novel is slow-moving in parts, but ultimately is a great introduction to the themes of environmentalism, young people’s activism, the positives of AI, and the importance of family. Whilst I’m not personally a fan of the ending, the novel’s complex structure (including diaries from older family members involved in the whaling industry and time shifts to explore the experience of future generations) means that it covers a huge amount of ground.

I would recommend this for Years 8 or 9.

Things a Bright Girl Can Do by Sally Nichols

This novel is exceptional, and we used the opening section as part of our International Women’s Day activities this year. Set in Edwardian England, it tracks the experiences of several teenagers as they become involved in the Suffragette and Suffragist movements. Whilst I was of course familiar with the broad brush strokes of this historical moment, I hadn’t previously considered the complexities of different experiences of this time period. Whilst I hesitate to employ the rather overused word microcosm (as how many microcosms are really truly representative??), one of the things I love about Nichols’ novel is that she has represented different how girls and women of different social classes, sexualities, and gender identities might have felt about the fight for the vote. The characterisation of the teenage protagonists is immaculate, as each one is brought to live with such energy and dynamism.

I would recommend this novel for Year 9 (and possibly as a satellite text for Year 10 if you are studying An Inspector Calls).

The Door of No Return by Kwame Alexander

My students tell me that every time I read a new book I say “I loved this novel” or “this is the BEST thing I’ve ever read”. And The Door of No Return is really phenomenal. Written in verse and set in Ghana, it begins with the 11 year old protagonist Kofi playing, spending time with friends, doing chores, and going to school. Yet Kofi’s life is soon thrown into chaos as he finds himself fighting for his freedom. This novel certainly brings a new perspective on the history of slavery and colonialism. The use of verse is equally fascinating and beautiful (another word I overuse – sorry!) and would prompt some excellent conversations in the classroom. Another aspect that could be picked up in teaching is Alexander’s expert use of imagery, as the symbols of water, birds, and dreams weave their way through the text.

I would recommend this novel for Years 8 and 9.

I, Ada by Julia Gray

The life of Ada Byron (daughter of the mad, bad, and dangerous to know Lord Byron) is brought to life in the pages of this excellent piece of historical fiction. I listened to the audiobook, which really conveys the energy and dynamism of Ada’s voice. Gray presents her young protagonist as an inspiration – Ada is both a scholar whose fascination with mathematics is infectious, and a mixed-up teenager who is desperate to understand the truth about her father. One idea that kept coming back to me as I listened to the narrative is how our relentless focus on Byron – the charismatic male writer – has obscured the experiences of the women he was related to. I know that literary critics have moved beyond this, but the AQA Love and Relationships Anthology still places Byron first in a list of 15 poems, 11 of which were penned by men.

I would recommend this novel for Years 9 and 10 due to the complexity of the language and syntax.

Girl Code by Andrea Gonzalez and Sophie Houser

So I’m cheating with this one, as it isn’t fiction at all. Instead, this is a fabulous non-fiction book about Andrea and Sophie’s teenage journey into the world of computer programming and game design. The writers met at the American Girls Who Code summer camp, and quickly became an online phenomenon when they collaborated on the game “Tampon Run” – a tongue-in-cheek satire of the use of blood in video games which aims to break taboos around talking about periods. What really struck me as I read this book was how I needed to re-evaluate my assumptions about computer programming and computer games; Andrea and Sophie talk with real passion about how to use their skills for social justice, and how they create narratives and meaning in their work.

I would recommend this for Year 9.

Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo

I found this verse novel all-consuming. The voices of the two protagonists – Camino Rios and Yahaira Rios – are so vividly brought to life, and their experience of loss and love is expertly articulated. The novel begins with Camino, living in the Dominican Republic and waiting for her US-based father to come to visit. But what she doesn’t realise is that her father doesn’t just work in the US – he has another family there. Yahaira and her mother live in New York, and think that their father/husband has headed off to visit home; they also have no idea that he has another daughter. Yet the plane that Papi is travelling on crashes, and he does not survive. It is this terrible loss which brings the two teenagers together, and they discover difficulties and hope as they navigate the challenges of restructuring their family.

This novel is heart-breaking, and it is important to be aware when you are recommending it to students that there is a strong focus on mourning and loss. I would recommend it for Years 10 and 11.

Guard Your Heart by Sue Divin

I wrote above that I moved pretty quickly from children’s books to “grown up” books, and had little experience of YA fiction as a teenager. However, one YA book I did read was Across the Barricades by Joan Lingard. When I came across Guard Your Heart as I prepared our RS reading challenge, I immediately thought back to my teenage reading of Lingard’s novel as Guard Your Heart reads like an updated, post-Belfast Agreement version of the earlier text. In Divin’s novel, Aidan and Iona are preparing to collect their A Level results and take the next step into their futures. And when they meet they have an instant connection. However, Aidan is a Catholic and his father was arrested for involvement in the IRA, whilst Iona is a Protestant and her father was a policeman. But it’s 2016, the Troubles are over, and the future is bright – so surely they can be together?

I would recommend this novel for Years 10 and 11 (there are references to drugs, violence, and sex, and it would probably be helpful for students to have a basic understanding of the Troubles).

Stevenson first introduces Dr Hastie Lanyon when Utterson goes to seek his help. Lanyon is described as a “hearty, healthy, dapper, red-faced gentleman… [with] a boisterous and decided manner”. Here, Stevenson is at pains to emphasise Lanyon’s energy and enthusiasm for life, as well as his “decided” (determined, definite) opinions about both friendship and science. It is these definite opinions which has led Lanyon and Jekyll to fall out with one another: Lanyon describes Jekyll’s experimental medicine as “unscientific balderdash”.

Yet in this initial description, Stevenson also mentions that there is something “theatrical” about Lanyon’s behaviour: like Jekyll and Enfield, is Lanyon also playing a part? Is he concealing a different type of behaviour and darker desires? Stevenson builds on this hint later in the novel, when Jekyll/Hyde writes to Lanyon asking for help. Jekyll has completely lost control of Hyde, and has spontaneously transformed into his alter ego in a park. Wearing Jekyll’s clothes and wanted for murder, Hyde has hidden away, and writes to Lanyon to ask the doctor to go to his house and collect the ingredients for the antidote which will transform him back into Jekyll. Lanyon decides to help his friend and collects the ingredients. At midnight, Hyde sneaks up to the house and Lanyon lets him in. Hyde then offers Lanyon a choice: he can “be wise” and leave the room as Hyde drinks the potion, or he can indulge his “curiosity” and watch the transformation. At this point Lanyon does not know that the potion will transform the murderer Hyde into Jekyll. Stevenson alludes to the Bible in this section of the novel: in the book of Genesis, Satan (disguised as a serpent) offers Eve the choice between eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge and therefore satisfying her curiosity, or walking away from the tree and remaining ignorant. In the Biblical story, Eve eats the fruit and this results in the fall of mankind. Lanyon makes the same choices as Eve and indulges his curiosity.

However, the discovery that Hyde transforms into Jekyll breaks Lanyon’s mind. The next time Utterson goes to see him, Lanyon is affected by “some deep-seated terror of the mind” and his “life is shaken to its roots”. Here, Stevenson juxtaposes the earlier description of Lanyon as “healthy” with the description of his mental and physical illness, revealing just how horrifying the discovery is for the rational doctor.

It might be surprising that a novel entitled The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde begins with a description of an entirely different character: Mr Utterson. Stevenson places Utterson in the position of the detective, whose task is to gather knowledge relating to the mystery of Jekyll and Hyde – and who guides the reader through the events.

In Chapter 1, Stevenson emphasises Utterson’s role as a stereotypical Victorian gentleman and highlights his reliability. This is necessary as the lawyer is the focaliser for the strange and increasingly unbelievable events which are to follow: Stevenson needs to build trust between Utterson and the reader. Therefore, in Chapter 1, we quickly discover that Utterson was “austere with himself”, avoiding indulging in hedonistic activities. For instance, Utterson has not been to the theatre for 20 years, and “drank gin to mortify a taste for vintages”. Stevenson’s portrayal of Utterson’s relationships with other gentlemen is fascinating. On the one hand, Utterson “inclines to Cain’s heresy” and lets his “brother go to the devil in his own way”. This means that Utterson watches his friends overindulge in hedonism, but he doesn’t intervene – even when it means that his peers ruin their own lives. Yet Stevenson underscores Utterson’s loyalty to these friends, and insists that the lawyer’s “affections, like ivy, were the growth of time”. Through the use of this simile, Stevenson implies that whilst Utterson’s friendships grow slowly, he is faithful and dependable.

As the novel progresses, Stevenson shows how Utterson’s character develops. Instead of standing by while his “downgoing” friends fall into ruin, the dependable lawyer begins to help his friend Jekyll – who is heading towards disaster. Utterson’s curiosity is initially piqued by Jekyll’s will. As Jekyll’s lawyer, we would expect Utterson to have drawn up the will himself – however, its contents are so shocking that Utterson refused to do this, and his only role is to keep a copy of it. This will was Utterson’s “eyesore” and he stores it in his safe – a symbol of his repressed mind. Utterson is anxious because in the will Jekyll leaves his money to Hyde – who we already know has attacked a young girl in the middle of the night. Stevenson uses the description of Utterson’s apprehensiveness to emphasise the inappropriateness of Jekyll’s behaviour.

Driven by his curiosity, Utterson searches for Hyde – and, when he sees him, believes that he is “hardly human, something troglodytic”. Utterson perceives Hyde as an evolutionary throwback – a creature from an earlier stage of human development. This reveals an anxiety central to the Victorian period: that of evolution and regression. Charles Darwin had recently published On the Origin of Species, a scientific study which shook the foundations of Christianity as it provides evidence for evolution rather than God’s creation of man. The Victorians were concerned that if creatures could evolve into humans, then humans could regress into animals – and what kind of violent behaviour would this lead to? However, after seeing Hyde, Utterson has a strange dream in which he is haunted by the “human Juggernaut”. Notice how here Stevenson describes Hyde as “human” rather than “hardly human” – this is the central idea which drives the novel. Instead of being supernatural, Hyde is profoundly and completely human – indicating that evil and violence are part of every single human being. We all have the capacity for evil.

Yet Utterson attempts to ignore this realisation. On one occasion, he and Enfield are walking past Jekyll’s house – through the window they see Jekyll start to transform into Hyde. But instead of rushing to help, the men “walked on once more in silence”. Stevenson is pointing out that Victorian gentlemen try to ignore the darker side of human nature – just as earlier Utterson put the will into the back of his safe.

However, by the end of the novel, Utterson decides that he must explore this darker side of humanity. Trying to rescue Jekyll from Hyde, Utterson knocks down Jekyll’s door with an axe in an unusual act of violence. This is Utterson’s last act, as after this, Stevenson directs our attention to Lanyon’s letter and Jekyll’s written confession. This means that there is no closure to Utterson’s storyline, and we never find out his reaction to his discovery that Jekyll and Hyde are the same person.

Stevenson introduces Hyde through Enfield’s description of the trampling of the young girl. Enfield recalls that Hyde was “like some damned Juggernaut” – a simile which reinforces his strength, violence, and inhumane callousness – going on to say that he “trampled calmly over the child’s body”. The juxtaposition of Hyde’s attack and the girl’s innocence highlights his brutality. This tale also establishes the novel’s central mystery: what is the connection between Jekyll and Hyde? The girl’s family blackmail Hyde to keep them quiet about the attack, and to pay them off he hands them a cheque signed by Dr Jekyll. When Utterson hears this story, he starts to reflect on Jekyll’s will, in which all his money is left to Hyde. Stevenson misdirects the reader by following Utterson’s train of thought: the reliable lawyer believes that the connection between Jekyll and Hyde will lead to “disgrace” – indicating blackmail or unspoken homosexuality (illegal in Britain at the time).

As the novel progresses, Stevenson conveys Hyde’s strangely compelling nature, as he both repulses and attracts others. Utterson, for example, feels “a singularly strong…curiosity to behold the features of the real Mr Hyde”. If Hyde symbolises the id – or the desires we have repressed and which dwell in our subconscious mind – then it is clear that Utterson is interested in this, but also worried about what he might uncover. When Utterson acts on his curiosity and goes to find Hyde, he believes that this strange man is “hardly human, something troglodytic”. Through this description, Stevenson suggests that Hyde is primitive and atavistic. However, in Utterson’s dream about Hyde he realises that instead of being “hardly human” he is a “human Juggernaut” – he comes to understand that Hyde is not supernatural, but is instead one of us.

Chapter 4 sees another attack: this time, Hyde murders Sir Danvers Carew. He “breaks out of all bounds” in a “great flame of anger”, and “trampl[es]” Carew “with ape-like fury”. The fire and animalistic imagery emphasise how uncontrollable Hyde can be, and that his violence is unstoppable. Yet in Jekyll’s confession in Chapter 10, it is Jekyll himself who admits to murdering Carew: “I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow”. Stevenson uses Jekyll’s admission of guilt to remind us that Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same person, and that Hyde’s actions are also Jekyll’s. It is this understanding that results in Lanyon’s death towards the end of the novel. In Chapter 9, Lanyon describes how he witnessed Hyde transforming into Jekyll – as a result, Lanyon’s “life is shaken to its roots” and he cannot survive. Stevenson uses Lanyon to reveal the full horror of understanding that humans all have two sides, and that evil can live within each of us.

Whilst Stevenson presents Hyde as brutal, violent, and unstoppable throughout most of the novel, at the end he is cornered and terrified. Utterson arrives at Jekyll’s house, believing that his friend has been taken hostage by Hyde. As he breaks down the door in an attempt to rescue Jekyll, Utterson hears “a dismal screech, of mere animal terror”. Whereas at the start of the novel Hyde’s animalistic qualities had been linked to strength and power, here the villain appears pathetic and weak. We later learn that this is the moment where Jekyll manages to commit suicide, killing Hyde in the process.

In a novel entitled The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, it may seem strange that Jekyll is introduced fairly far into the text: this allows Stevenson to build tension and mystery around the novel’s protagonist. When Jekyll is introduced, he is presented as a wealthy and educated gentleman who is clearly hiding a dark secret – a secret which is connected to the will in which Jekyll leaves all his money to the violent Mr Hyde. When Utterson questions Jekyll about this, “there came a blackness about [the doctor’s] eyes”, a phrase Stevenson uses to hint at the repressed side of his personality. Despite the warning look in Jekyll’s eyes, Utterson pursues his questions, and Jekyll responds: “the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr Hyde”. Through this strong statement, Stevenson reveals Jekyll’s hubris and lack of self-knowledge: the crux of the story is that Jekyll is not in control and that Hyde (who symbolises his repressed desires) is an inextricable part of his identity.

After the murder of Sir Danvers Carew, Stevenson suggests that Jekyll is starting to realise his mistake: Jekyll looks “deathly sick” and readers understand that he is horrified at the murder his alter ego has committed.  Yet Stevenson then shows that Jekyll is unable to liberate himself from the situation, and he wallows in self-pity instead: “if I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also”. Whilst Jekyll admits responsibility for his “sins” (a word which evokes religious ideas of challenging the authority and goodness of a Christian God), he also sees himself as a victim. Yet even in his victimhood, Jekyll is hubristic, insisting that he is the “chief”.

As the novel progresses it is clear that Jekyll has entered an unstoppable downward spiral and that he has completely lost control. One evening, Utterson and Enfield walk past his window, and see Jekyll looking “like some disconsolate prisoner”. Again, the emphasis here is on Jekyll’s victimhood (“disconsolate” means unhappy whilst the simile “like…[a] prisoner” indicates that he is trapped).

However, by the time we reach the end of the novel, the reader is aware that this is a trap of Jekyll’s own making. Unlike the first 9 chapters, which are in the third person, Chapter 10 is in the first person and constitutes Jekyll’s confession. Stevenson highlights how Jekyll “stood already committed to a profound duplicity of life” well before he created the potion that resulted in the emergence of Hyde. As a young man, Jekyll had indulged in hedonistic behaviour, which he had sought to conceal from others in order to protect his reputation. Being unable to continue this deceit, he had decided to create a potion to destroy his darker side – but it had the opposite result, and unleashed Hyde. Stevenson initially describes the transformation in a positive way: Jekyll felt “younger, lighter, happier in body”. This suggests that Jekyll feels liberated from the expectations that restricted the lives of Victorian gentlemen. Yet it is clear that this liberation quickly changes as Jekyll’s “devil had long been caged; he came out roaring”. Because his behaviour had been so strictly repressed, Hyde quickly indulged in wild, hedonistic, and destructive actions – including trampling the young girl and murdering Danvers Carew. It is notable that in Jekyll’s confession, he admits to killing Carew himself: “I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow”. The slip from describing Hyde’s actions to retelling the story as if Jekyll was the criminal is an interesting one, as it reminds us that Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same – and that each of has the capacity for evil.

At the start of the play, Shakespeare parallels Macbeth and Banquo. Both are courageous warriors responsible for winning the battles against Ireland and Norway, and both are described in Act 1 Scene 2 as fearsome animals (“eagles” and like a “lion”). Duncan rewards both men for their bravery, making Macbeth Thane of Cawdor and telling Banquo that he will make him “full of growing”. And both receive prophecies from the witches.

However, it is in their responses to the witches that Banquo and Macbeth start to differ. Whereas Shakespeare presents Macbeth as believing in the witches almost immediately, Banquo reasons that “to win us to our harm, / The instruments of darkness tell us truths”. Shakespeare shows how Banquo is more sceptical than Macbeth, and that he is better at spotting the truth: Banquo recognises the witches as “instruments” of the devil, who spread “darkness” – or evil – in order to cause “harm”. Yet whereas Macbeth commits murder to clear his path to the throne and hasten the witches’ prophecies, Banquo simply waits.

However, this does not mean that Banquo isn’t tempted. After Macbeth is crowned King, Banquo says “myself should be the root and father of many kings”. Here, Shakespeare reveals the hold that the prophecy has over Banquo’s imagination as he sees himself as the leader of the monarchy – even though he will not be king himself. This is suggested by the metaphor of the “root”, which also indicates that Banquo wishes to be a strong, powerful leader.

At this point in the play, Shakespeare also reveals Banquo’s intelligent understanding of the situation, as he suspects that Macbeth “played most foully for” the throne. The verb “played” communicates a sense that Macbeth has won a risky game, whilst “foully” echoes the witches opening lines (“fair is foul and foul is fair”). Banquo’s use of this adverb communicates his growing understanding that Macbeth is evil, ensnared by the witches.

After acceding to the throne, Macbeth orders Banquo’s murder, having become worried that his friend is the only one knows about the witches’ prophecies – and therefore that he will deduce that Macbeth murdered Duncan. The audience feels great pathos for Banquo’s death, as he fights heroically to save his son, Fleance, and has been betrayed by his closest friend. Whilst Shakespeare presents the murder of Duncan as a challenge to the Divine Right of Kings, the killing of Banquo is deeply personal and the audience are unsettled by Macbeth’s ability to put friendship aside in order to succeed in his ambitions.

Yet this is not the end for Banquo’s character: his ghost appears at Macbeth’s banquet in Act 3 Scene 4. This is perhaps the most dramatic scene in the play, and the appearance of the ghost is a visual symbol of Macbeth’s guilt and torment at the sacrifices he has made to secure his kingship. Overcome by horror, Macbeth cries at the ghost: “never shake thy gory locks at me”. The imperative phrase (“never shake”) falls on deaf ears and Shakespeare reveals how Macbeth is completely unable to command supernatural forces. Additionally, the “gory locks” continue the motif of blood which is found throughout the play. From the blood on Macbeth’s hands after Duncan’s murder, to the blood that Lady Macbeth imagines in Act 5, a trail of gore follows the ruthless couple’s journey to power.

Overall, Shakespeare presents Banquo as a character foil for Macbeth. Whilst he is given a similar prophecy to his friend, Banquo chooses the righteous path, ignoring temptation and remaining loyal to the true king. Therefore, he is the epitome of integrity.