Children at War. By Kate Agnew and Geoff Fox.

Family Fictions. By Nicholas Tucker and Nikki Gamble. Continuum pound;14.99 each (pb), pound;50 each (hb). TES Direct pound;14.49 each (pb).

These three volumes are part of a series, edited by Morag Styles, which offers critical examinations of “a range of contemporary classics of children’s literature”. While a prefatory note sees them as “essential reading for those working on undergraduate and higher degrees” in the field, it is also claimed that the series “avoids jargon” and is accessible to a readership beyond the academic one. This claim to have avoided jargon turns out to be justified, if “jargon” means the more absurdly impenetrable theory-based analysis which typifies some children’s literature criticism.

The Hunt and Lenz study focuses on the work of Ursula Le Guin, Terry Pratchett and Philip Pullman. But before these in-depth discussions comes Hunt’s general introduction, in which his first concern is to defend the fantasy genre and assert its relevance in the face of accusations that it is formulaic, childish and escapist. He then engages in some quite entertaining play with matters of definition, the prelude to an historical survey which ends with a consideration of some “key fantasies”. these take him from Charles Kingsley to J. K. Rowling. There are no stunningly new insights here but it all demonstrates, in Hunt’s words, that fantasy “has a remarkable history and a remarkable range”.

Lenz’s chapters on Le Guin and Pullman are painstakingly thorough in their determination to establish the philosophical, theological, cultural and literary antecedents of their fictions, her starting point being the “big questions” that they raise. Much of this is intellectually fascinating and extremely erudite; some of it is very convoluted. By contrast, Hunt’s chapter on Pratchett - “a writer committed to expanding the mind” - is characterised throughout by a note of enthusiastic gusto, of learning lightly worn, asking, en route, central questions as to what children’s books and childhood itself really are.

In the Agnew and Fox volume, the books discussed deal with “the two World Wars and their impact upon the United States, Continental Europe and North America”. This might be thought to provide enough material for a comprehensive survey but much of the richness in Fox’s overview lies in the decision not to focus exclusively on fiction. Accordingly, there is an engrossing variety of related subject matter in the form of autobiographies, comics and picture-books. Between a short story from 1914 and a novel from 1997, Fox makes a sure-footed and compassionate journey which takes us from “cultural certainties” to “pluralism and ambiguities”.

Agnew’s contributions, on the First and Second World Wars, concentrate on some well-known texts. Her general conclusion, after investigation of plots, characters and settings, is that in modern children’s books the depictions of the Second World War are more complex than those of the First, which is invariably seen as “tragic and senseless”. Fox’s concluding “Mainland Europe” essay allows, among much else, for treatment of Roberto Innocenti’s Rose Blanche and Aidan Chambers’ Postcards from No Man’s Land. The overall sombre tone of the analysis is brightened by the courage, resilience and idealism of the young characters whose destinies it invites us to follow.

The writers chosen for detailed discussion in the Tucker and Gamble volume are Anne Fine, Jacqueline Wilson and Morris Gleitzman, whose books are seen as contributing significantly to the “changing families” theme with which Gamble is concerned in her introduction. This essay is a chronological blend of the sociological and the literary which, while drawing largely on the usual authorities and sources, succeeds in delineating the shift which has occurred in children’s fiction from “an optimistic affirmation of family life to a more pessimistic acknowledgement of fallibility”. It is good to see some lesser-known texts, such as Berlie Doherty’s White Peak Farm and Anne Cassidy’s The Hidden Child, included in the commentary.

Tucker’s chapters on Fine and Wilson are straightforward and lucid engagements with the “exhilarating and occasionally unsettling” reading experiences offered by these writers. His focus is on the relationships between child and parent, on the balance of their rights and responsibilities and on the mixture of humour and seriousness which characterises the writing. Similarly, in her consideration of Gleitzman’s novels, Gamble sees “the main interaction” as being “between parent and child” and shows how he is fond of addressing these relationships by juxtaposing the serious and the comic.

These volumes provide accessible historical introductions to their chosen topics, some mainly uncontentious speculation on the various genres represented, a great deal of detailed plot summary and, generally, predictable conclusions. If children’s literature ever becomes an A-level subject - and why not? - these books will be invaluable supplementary reading; for those “working on undergraduate and higher degrees” they will serve, at least, as useful initial points of reference. There are some mis-spellings of authors’ surnames and, in two of these review copies, quite serious pagination problems.

ROBERT DUNBAR

Robert Dunbar lectures in English at the Church of Ireland College of Education, Dublin