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There’s a fine tradition of children’s authors revisiting
favourite characters in subsequent books, be they stand alone titles or
follow-on sequels. Ethel Turner revisited the Woolcott children in two
sequels and a companion to Seven Little Australians, and ground-breaking
US writer Louise Fitzhugh reprised Harriet from Harriet the Spy in
guest appearances in The Long Summer and Sport. Decades
after their first appearances, younger children still delight in the various
adventures of Madeleine and Eloise. There’s a comfort and a pleasure
in spending time in the company of a fictional friend, and in knowing
that there’s more to come after the pages of one book are closed.
Fans of Odo Hirsch’s loyal, literal heroine Hazel Green will settle
happily into her latest outing, Have Courage, Hazel Green! The
defining features of Hazel’s world are in place: the balcony from
which she observes her city, the cast of fabulously talented shopkeepers,
and the motley tribe of kids from the Moodey Building all return. Hazel’s
mathematical genius friend the Yak is again on hand to help her solve
— and create — conundrums, Marcus Bunn resumes duty as Hazel’s
devoted if somewhat put-upon follower, and her nemesis Leon Davis continues
to challenge and provoke her.

Yet Have Courage is not merely "more of the same". In it, as
in the second Hazel Green book, Something’s Fishy, Hazel Green,
Hirsch has expanded upon and deepened both characterisation and the thematic
concerns established in the first novel, Hazel Green. In each book, Hazel
has faced an increasingly complex moral challenge. In the first book,
she is wrongly accused of giving away a secret recipe of gifted pastry
cook Mr Volio. In the second, she must find a way of assisting the fishmonger
Mr Petrusca without giving away the shameful secret of his illiteracy.
In both these books, Hazel’s efforts to stay true to her sense of
loyalty and of right end up getting her into deeper strife before she
emerges wiser and stronger for her efforts.
Have Courage, Hazel Green! takes Hazel into yet more challenging
and darker ethical waters. Early one morning she overhears an adult resident
of the Moodey Building berating the building’s janitor, Mr Egozian:
"You think you’ll have a job here forever? You think I can’t
get rid of you?… I don’t like you and I don’t like your
kind. Don’t like a single one of you. You’re all the same."
Hazel is outraged. She decides to shame Mr Davis — yes, Leon’s
father — into apologising to Mr Egozian by replicating the scene
in a pre-planned confrontation with the Yak. Instead, the tables are turned
on her — she is accused of bullying the Yak, and of lying about
Mr Davis when she explains her actions to an inquisition of unsympathetic
adults (including her own parents, possibly the only false note in the
book). These same adults decide to punish Hazel, by refusing to allow
her to attend a party being thrown for the whole building unless she apologises
to Mr Davis. If she lies, in other words, she can go to the party (and
if you know Hirsch’s — and Hazel’s! — predilection
for mouth-watering food, you’ll know what a punishment that is!).
Hazel, as we can only expect of this steadfast and determined child, refuses
to compromise her own integrity, and instead sets out to both understand
the motivations behind Mr Davis’ apparent bigotry and to protect
Mr Egozian’s job. Almost as an afterthought, she reinstates her
own reputation of loyalty and honesty.
It all sounds rather heavy-handed, so it’s important to make clear
that one of Hirsch’s great gifts as a children’s novelist
(and he has many) is his ability to present challenging philosophical
concepts without abandoning humour, whimsy, and a beautiful command of
language.

Morris Gleitzman achieved the impossible in Toad Rage —
he made it possible to feel compassion and affection for Australia’s
great environmental bogey-man, the cane toad. He’s brought back
his warty hero, Limpy, in the sequel Toad Heaven. These books
demonstrate how his skills have matured over his decade-plus career as
a best-selling children’s novelist. Gleitzman’s child heroes
frequently possess a degree of naivete, yet in some of the early novels
their actions sometimes seemed illogical, even a bit stupid. Limpy, however,
is a true innocent, and Gleitzman’s logic — even in a comically
far-fetched plot — is impeccable. In his first adventure, Limpy
— who genuinely cannot understand why humans hate cane toads with
such raw, murderous passion — sets out to convert them/us to affection
for him and his "rellies" by pitching the cane toad as an Olympic
mascot. In Toad Heaven, Limpy hears word of a National Park,
where animals are protected, and figures this is a haven for cane toads,
where they will be safe from road trains and four wheel drives.
Gleitzman’s humour is the hallmark of his work, and what sets him
apart from lesser comic writers is that his jokes always serve a purpose.
Jokes and comic set-pieces which initially may seem like a throw-away
generally come back to serve a purpose for plot or character. His humour
is both situational and linguistic, and like Hirsch, his entertaining
stories contain deeper truths of friendship and loyalty and, in Toad
Heaven, environmentalism and true humanity without once patronising
or preaching.
I find it less likely that young readers will engage whole-heartedly with
the rather odd Time Stops for No Mouse. The first in a planned
trilogy about mouse-hero Hermux Tantamoq, Time was initially self-published
before being snapped up in one of those in-your-dream deals by US publisher
Penguin Putnam. Hermux is thrown into an unlikely adventure to rescue
adventuress Linka Perflinger, for whom he has developed a distant crush,
and to thwart the evil plans of the psychotic cosmetic doctor Hiril Mennus
to steal the formula for an elixir of immortality. The book is an adventure
story and a romance, yet I wonder how children will respond to its themes
of aging and beauty. The decision to make all the characters rodents —
rats, mice, moles, etc — is what makes this a children’s,
rather than an adult title, yet they are really just adult characters,
concerned with adult concepts, in animal guise. It’s a pleasant
read, if not particularly compelling, and I for one don’t feel a
great need to follow Hermux in subsequent adventures.

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