This is a picture of my daughter with the favourite book of my childhood: The Snow Spider by Jenny Nimmo.
It is a book that swept me away, that I re-read well into adulthood and which still moves me to this day. But it is also my favourite because of the memories it holds of a hot summer day, a long time ago. The piece below was originally written for another blog (hi, Lauren) but I wanted to share it again, largely because of what happened after I took the above photograph earlier today. Read on.
On trying to choose a childhood favourite, about half a
dozen books flashed through my head. The
Little Vampire (I loved it); The Secret World of Polly Flint (which
was the first book that I ever re-read immediately on finishing it); and A
Dream of Sadler's Wells (Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian) but in actuality,
there was only ever one real contender: The Snow Spider by
Jenny Nimmo. This book will forever be
close to my heart not just because of its magical, moving story and memorable
characters, but also because it was the first book that I ever bought all by
myself and you will have to bear with me, because the memory of buying it
is integral to my love of the story itself...
I
was 8 years old and my father had taken me with him to work for the day. This would probably have been terribly dull,
except that on this hot summer day he had to go from our home on the Isle of
Lewis to Portree on the Isle of Skye and I was to go with him – away from my
younger brothers, just me – on my own with Daddy. It was a big thing. It became even bigger when I was allowed to
sit up front, albeit on a booster seat.
I was wearing my best dress at the time, which was sky-blue linen, drop
waisted (this was the Eighties, remember) and just the prettiest thing I had
EVER SEEN.
On
arriving in Portree, we parked overlooking the harbour and my dad headed off to
his meeting, leaving me with a whole £2.50 to amuse myself with in the local
shops. I had never had this much money
to myself and remember feeling quite boggled at the idea that I could choose
what to buy. I wandered down the main
street and into one of those shops peculiar to small, Highland towns. It sold newspapers, fishing
rods, sun cream, iced lollies, t-shirts, groceries and books. I was already a great book lover but was
pretty sure that I didn't have enough money to buy a book. Obviously, I still found myself standing in
front of the books and there it was: the
most beautiful book I had ever seen – I remember actually stroking the cover
because it was so pretty. And not only
that, but it sounded amazing... and it was only £1.95! I hurriedly took both an orange iced lolly
and my precious find to the cashier and rushed back to settle myself in the
car, where I started on a book that remains a favourite to this day.
Gwyn
Griffith is a magician. On his ninth
birthday his Nain (Grandmother) informs him that he has magic ancestry in the
forms of Welsh figures of lore, Gwydion, Math and Milfaethwy and bestows on him
several strange gifts, urging him to cast them to the wind and claim his
magical inheritance. The gifts include
a piece of seaweed, a twisted brooch, a small and sinister wooden horse and a
yellow scarf that once belonged to his older sister - a sister who went missing
on the mountain above their farm four years previously. From this mysterious start spins a story of a
tiny silver spider who can weave stories into her webs; glorious flying ships
soaring over the Welsh hills; barely glimpsed cities of ice and singing and the
mysterious Eirlys, a girl who bears more than a passing resemblance to Gwyn's
missing sister.
The
characters are impressively written and fleshed out, considering that this book
is aimed at 9-12 year olds. Gwyn himself
is a serious and thoughtful boy, one who would make a winning protagonist
in any YA offering. He is oddly
charismatic, yet quiet and caring, desperately holding his own in a household
crumbling under the weight of a missing child.
Nain is a wonderful creation – a whirlwind of red velvet, chiming
bracelets and wild black curls who often seems quite mad yet is bright and focussed as a bird
as she cannily pushes Gwyn towards his destiny.
However,
the real heart of this story is the relationship between Gwyn and his father –
a man bowed and embittered in his grief, who has forgotten what he still has in
the face of what he has lost. Even as a
child I remember being completely aware that Mr. Griffith desperately needed
the presence of stranger, Eirlys in order for him to actually see Gwyn again,
rather than his son continuing to only highlight the absence of his daughter. The climax of the story occurs during a
ferocious storm and is nothing less than thrilling. It is all beautifully written. I read The Snow Spider repeatedly as a
child and was surprised to find, when I picked it up once more to prepare for
this post, how little it has dated. It
is gratifying to find a novel for children that is written with adult
sensibilities. The themes of loss and
grief are subtle, but not brushed over – indeed, they inform the whole story
and turn what could have been merely magic and fluff (which are perfectly acceptable all by themselves) into a story with real depth and
meaning. As a child I found The Snow
Spider magical, as an adult I find it life-affirming.
So
there we have it, I am so glad to have had reason to revisit this lovely story
and the memories that come with it – and those memories are inescapable. Each time I read it I can almost taste the
sticky sweetness of that iced-lolly, hear the sounds of gulls and the sea and
feel blue linen sticking to my back in the heat of a beautiful summer's
day. Best of all, I can remember my
father's still young face smiling as he returned to find me curled up with a
book. To have all these memories and
this fantastic story in my possession...I am lucky indeed. Read it if you get a chance, and then pass it
on to the nearest 10 year old – you won't regret it.
So, this morning, I'll admit that I set the picture up - I liked the idea of having my child in the picture with my childhood favourite. But I didn't expect what happened next:
It turns out that my favourite has found a new home. We were very nearly late to school. And I couldn't be happier.
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