Sixty-year-old paperbacks, however well preserved, are fragile old dears in need of care if they are going to survive into their 70s and beyond. Seeing and gently touching such vintage titles is likely to prompt children to consider which of their books they would part with at a bring-and-buy sale, and which they would keep and cherish into adulthood.
When first seeing a collection of old Puffins (see Friday, November 9), children might think that the shine has faded. Where has the glossy sheen gone? They will have to be told that it was never there. Apart from durability, what do they think has been added to the reading experience by silver and gold lettering, embossed, fluorescent or extra-reflective covers?
The frantic search for a new look means that book jackets (particularly series designs or single-author packaging) quickly become passe. This is especially true in the children’s market, where publishers perceive that the attention of each new wave of readers (and in children’s books this means every two or three years) needs to be grabbed in a fresh way. Good news for designers and authors whose books go into new editions, but how decisive are covers?
There are those - our present children’s laureate included - who feel that too much store is set by book jackets. Certainly, there is nothing more dispiriting than seeing a group of children, all with the same book in front of them, being forced to respond to a series of delaying questions from the teacher about “what the cover picture signifies”, “what the blurb on the back tells us”, when all they want to do is turn to chapter one.
A child’s reaction to a book jacket is never as knowing or self-aware as these deconstructionist forays would have us believe. We all agree that a good jacket should be visually arresting and not misrepresent the book it is packaging. Beyond that, it’s hard to come up with any rules.
My collection of early Puffins includes most of the first 100 Puffin Storybook titles from the 1940s and 1950s, and a display of some of these in our junior library elicited enthusiastic responses. There are one or two that have a quaint museum air about them - The Insect Man with its non-pictorial cover and an advertisement for Clark’s shoes on the back, for example - but the absence of a glossy sheen was not a turn-off.
The first Puffin edition of Kidnapped received enthusiastic endorsement from several of my Year 5 boys, who especially liked the map on the back and the way the Puffin logo had been used as a compass. Another favourite was No Other White Man, an account of Lewis and Clark’s Missouri expedition. The boys liked the way the winding river vista is framed by two imposing figures on either side of the jacket, and felt the design by John Harwood created a sense of adventure.
Because of their matt jackets and (certainly for the earliest) the flimsiness of war austerity paper, many of these early Puffins, where they have survived at all, are in poor condition. Even so, you can still strike it lucky and come across them at boot sales, fetes and in charity shops.
An early Puffin is a piece of children’s publishing history. It makes for an inexpensive gift and might turn the recipient into a collector. The more of those there are, the more chance there will be that jackets from a less market-driven era will survive. For teachers, early Puffins present many opportunities for use, from jacket appreciation to currency conversion to cost comparison.
Michael Thorn is deputy head of Hawkes Farm primary school, Hailsham, East Sussex.
