CHILDREN 10-12:SERIAL FANTASY, serial murder and psychological fantasy: that's what's on the menu for young independent readers this summer.
Eoin Colfer's seventh Artemis Fowl adventure, combining all of the above, will be warmly welcomed. Fowl has already made appearances in anime, the graphic novel form. Now he is conventional again in Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex(Puffin, £12.99), dealing with armies of robots from outer space who capture the lost city of Atlantis where fairies have fled ages ago. Only an anti-hero of Artemis's proportions can save the universe from this dire threat. However, Artemis, now with a fragile male ego, has problems of his own, and becomes more interesting with every book. The strain of growing up as a global master-schemer has left him with a personality disorder, the Atlantis complex - what Colfer calls Child-Genius Syndrome. It manifests first as obsessive compulsive, paranoid behaviour. Then his alter ego takes over: it is shockingly civil and benign, but escapist and ineffectual. Certainly not the Artemis whose company we cherish. Science Foundation Ireland should reward Colfer for brilliantly combining technology and story. Few writers are as witty and technically adroit or have developed a protagonist with such skill and understatement. Another triumph.
There is more fantasy in Michael Scott's fourth book about the immortal Nicholas Flamel, The Necromancer(Doubleday £10.99). Hardly have twins Sophie and Josh arrived home to San Francisco than a vampire abducts Sophie. As if that is not enough, Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, are aging rapidly now that Dr Dee has stolen the Codex containing their immortality spell; and anyway, the twins cannot be sure that they can trust Flamel any longer. Dee's villainy now extends to necromancy and worse. Treachery, not trust, propels this dizzying whirl of subplots with an obligatory threat to the universe and a cliffhanging, surprise ending.
It's a real pleasure to see the versatile Marie-Louise Fitzpatrick diversify from award-winning picture books to a full-length novel in the fantasy mode. Timecatcher(Orion, £6.99) is set in an old button factory in Dublin that is home to an unhappy, ghostly 12-year old, G, as well as to the ancient Mr Greenwood, whose troubled history stretches back to the 13th century and to two detectives. Every seven years, the Timecatcher's portal opens and offers access to "shadow" people and past times. But beware the meddling Sullivan Ellz'mede, who wants to tamper with its power source. This is a fast-paced novel, full of surprises.
Murder-mystery thrillers seem to be in vogue just now for the young. As a child, I loved the predictability of the yellow-sleeved Crime Club adult thrillers and relived that pleasure with Tanya Landman's Certain Death: Who Wants a Ring Seat?(Walker, £4.99). In this Agatha Christie-like story, Poppy Fields and Graham are experienced detectives; this is the sixth murder they have solved so far. A ricocheting bullet kills a woman at a circus at which "certain death" has been promised. They follow a tangle of links and false leads before finally fingering their man - or is it woman?
Johnny Swanson, by Eleanor Updale, (David Fickling, £10.99), is another murder mystery, set in an impoverished and disease-ridden Britain traumatised by the Great War and the human loss it engendered. The plot revolves around the commercial possibilities of immunising the population against TB, while Johnny's mother, a war widow, ekes out a living as a cleaner. Johnny, the presiding presence, is small for his age. His peers condescend to him when they are not bullying him. His questionable get-rich-quick scheme means that the moral issues the book raises are not confined only to the villainous adults.
Also on the margins of the law are orphaned siblings Bob and Rat, who embark on an improbable journey from Winnipeg to New York in search of their drug-dealing uncle in Gregory Hughes's Unhooking the Moon(Quercus, £6). This is no historical or mythological quest, but a post-9/11, mobile-phone, Kerouac-type tale of rappers, paedophiles, a deadly gunfight - in short old-fashioned, everyday humanity. The youngsters are as adept at living on their wits as the hustlers they befriend on New York's streets. Pubescent Bob has a better grasp of reality than his scatty sister, who is a wonderfully drawn wild child, at once inscrutable, prescient, talented - and maybe ill. Watch out for more Gregory Hughes; this first book shows real talent.
David Almond's first, hugely successful book Skellig(1998) explored how a boy, Michael, who is neglected at home, flourishes when he nurtures an old man - or is he an angel? My Name is Mina(Hodder, £12.99) is the prequel to that book and focuses on Michael's neighbour, Mina. By her own admission Mina needs a "destrangification" operation; not that easy to arrange. The novel reproduces her journal notes of a difficult, friendless period after her dad dies and she opts for home-schooling. The process of writing and reading poet William Blake - and finally bringing herself to reach out to Michael - lead to small hopes for the mutual nurturing that marked Skellig.
Pulitzer-winning author Jane Smiley's Nobody's Horse(Faber, £6.99 ) is a beautiful, book about negotiating family relationships in the 1950s against a background of fundamentalist Christianity and the demands and passions of a horse-training family. We are party to the simmering conflict between Dad and teenage Daniel. Little sister Abby's job is to show horses to potential customers. "A little girl could ride that horse!" is Dad's sales mantra. Smiley cares enough about her story to allow it take its own path, and not use it to teach us lessons. Subtle, complex characterisation and a credible child's narrating voice are its hallmarks. It is highly recommended for the rainy staycation.
Mary Shine Thompson is dean at St Patrick's College Drumcondra, a college of Dublin City University
