Musings of a Very Idle Reader

One of the reasons I love readalongs is how they help me to get through a challenging book. They keep me focused and give my reading a purpose. The support of my fellow readalongers is an integral part of the process. But sadly, none of this is helping me get through Don Quixote.

It reminds me of my attempts to read Catch-22. The humour is amusing and clever to start with, but by the the half way mark (if not before), it just becomes tedious in it's repetitiveness. So many of my good friends LOVE Catch-22 and so many of my blogger friends LOVE Don Quixote along with a large number of authors that I respect and admire. What have I missed with both of these books?

I like to think that I'm an intelligent person, who is reasonably well-read and not afraid to tackle some of the heftier books when the mood strikes. So I saw the satire and the cleverness in both books, I appreciated the intentions of the authors, I enjoyed some of the set pieces and the themes but, ultimately, they didn't move me, engage me or entertain me. They left me scratching my head in bemusement.

With Don Quixote, I kept waiting for something different to happen, for some growth or insight. It never happened - well it certainly didn't happen in Part One.

I had heard that Part Two was a better read, with all sorts of exciting 'pre-post-modern metafiction', so imagine my disappointment when I quickly discovered that it was more of the same, but with parody...and more even poems!

The whole time I was reading DQ, I kept seeing and hearing The Cisco Kid and Pancho - the characters from a 1950's TV show that I watched in reruns during my 70's childhood. Every time Quixote said Sancho's name I heard Cisco's famous "ohhhh Paaaaaancho" in my head instead!

Just like the TV western, Don Quixote is episodic and full of copious amounts of frame stories...not my favourite form of literature. Perhaps I should have read one chapter a week, spinning each episode out with an anticipatory break in between?

I enjoyed the brief glimpses into life in rural Spain and watching the very first odd-couple literary pairing in action. But I failed to find much humour - there was ridiculousness and absurdity and some slap-stick, but nothing to laugh out loud about. Don Quixote was sad and mad, and Sancho ignorant and trusting, not figures I could poke fun at, or find it amusing to see others do so.

So reluctantly, and with some regret, I abandon the readalong and leave Don Quixote and Sancho to continue riding around the Spanish countryside in search of adventures and injustices to right. According to Goodreads, I made it to the 52% mark, which I think is giving it a fair go, in anyone's books!

Over the years, a number of authors have adapted elements of Don Quixote into their own work. These include Madame Bovary, The Idiot, The New York Trilogy and The Moor's Last Sigh. I attempted but did not like or finish Madame Bovary but I was sucked into Auster's mad, sad world in The New York Trilogy. I even read somewhere that Che Guevera modelled himself on the bumbling, grandiose idealistic knight as well!

Rushdie obviously loves it so much, he's having a second go at a Quixotic story. His new novel, due to published in September, is an even more obvious nod to his favourite novel, than the previous.

 The Jonathan Cape blurb says:

 Quichotte, an ageing travelling salesman obsessed with TV, is on a quest for love. Unfortunately, his daily diet of reality TV, sitcoms, films, soaps, comedies and dramas has distorted his ability to separate fantasy from reality. He wishes an imaginary son into existence, while obsessively writing love letters to a celebrity he knows only through his screen. Quuihotte's story is narrated by Brother, a mediocre spy novelist in the midst of a mid-life crisis, triggered in part by a fall-out with his Sister. As the stories of Brother and Quichotte ingeniously intertwine, Salmon Rushdie takes us ona wild, picaresque journey through a world on the edge of moral and spiritual collapse.

While The Bookseller, 8th March 2019, reveals that,

Quichotte tells the story of an ageing travelling salesman who falls in love with a TV star and sets off to drive across America on a quest to prove himself worthy of her hand. “Quichotte’stragicomic tale is one of a deranged time, and deals, along the way, with father–son relationships, sibling quarrels, racism, the opioid crisis, cyber-spies, and the end of the world.”

Rushdie has previously spoken of his enthusiasm for Cervantes’ Don Quixote, which was published in two parts in 1605 and 1615. 

In January 2018 he told the Guardian of his re-reading of the text: “On the one hand, the characters of Quixote and Sancho Panza are as beautifully realised as I remember them, and the idea of a man determinedly seeing the world according to his own vision, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, feels strikingly contemporary. 

“On the other hand, how many more times are the Knight of the Dolorous Countenance and Sancho going to get beaten up and left in pain in various roadside ditches? The ‘greatest novel ever written’ – I voted for it myself once – turns out to be just a little bit repetitive. To make the reading easier, I’m breaking it up and reading other books by other authors after every couple of hundred pages of Cervantes.”

I was rather thrilled to read, that even though Rushdie voted this the best book of all time, he still considers it repetitive and difficult to read. Sadly, even though I unknowingly used Rushdie's approach of reading Quixote by reading other books in between, it only served to make me feel more and more reluctant to pick it up this monotonous tome each time.

Honoré Daumier

It's not to late for you though.

If my miserable failure should inspire you or goad you into trying for yourself, please visit Nick's blog for details around the chapter-a-day readalong or Silvia's blog to enjoy the company of someone who could read Don Quixote every year and never get tired of it.

My earlier, more hopeful, Quixote posts.
Musings of an Idle Reader
Marcela

I'll leave Don Quixote and Cervantes now, with little regret. My curiosity to experience the first modern novel remains unmet, or at least, unsatisfied.

Catching clouds would have been more amusing.

Don Quixote - Marcela

I love this chick!
A lot.

Marcela rocked the #metoo movement 500 years before the first hashtag even existed! After reading chapter XIV and Marcela's marvellous take down, I feel sure there are reams of essays and opinions about feminism and Cervantes out there, and if I ever feel up to searching them out and reading them, I'll let you know!

But for now, let me give you an abridged version of Marcela's speech at Grisóstomo's funeral. It has been said that Grisóstomo, a shepherd, has died of a broken heart after being grievously spurned by the beautiful but cruel Marcela.

Heaven made me, as all of you say, so beautiful that you cannot resist my beauty and are compelled to love me, and because of the love you show me, you claim that I am obliged to love you in return. I know...that everything beautiful is lovable, but I cannot grasp why, simply because it is loved, the thing loved for its beauty is obliged to love the one who loves it....

According to what I have heard, true love is not divided and must be voluntary, not forced. If this is true, as I believe it is, why do you want to force me to surrender my will, obliged to do simply because you say you love me...?

I was born free, and in order to live free I chose the solitude of the countryside....Those whose eyes have forced them to fall in love with me, I have discouraged with my words. If desires feed on hopes, and since I have given no hope to Grisostomo or to any other man regarding these desires, it is correct to say that his obstinacy, not my cruelty, is what killed him....

If I had kept him by me, I would have been false; if I had gratified him, I would have gone against my own best intentions and purposes. He persisted though I discouraged him....

Let this general discouragement serve for each of those who solicit me for his own advantage...; let him who calls me ungrateful, not serve me, unapproachable, not approach me, cruel, not follow me...; I am free and do not care to submit to another; I do not love or despise anyone. I do not deceive this one or solicit that one; I do not mock one or amuse myself with another.

Marcela is no-one's damsel in distress, she's not interested in courtly love or tradition. She is no virgin goddess or shrinking violet. She is not bountiful Mother Earth or a tart. She does not need to be tamed or live up to (or down to) societal expectations.

The men in Don Quixote have created their own version of an 'ideal woman' - one not based on any fact or reality - their 'ideal woman' has become another fictional construct in a book full of fictional constructs. Is Don Quixote the first example of metafiction I wonder?

As I read this passage, I was reminded of Jane Austen in Persuasion when Anne Eliot says, “Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. The pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything”.

Overnight I've been thinking about why a woman would chose a life of solitude in the mountains. tending sheep.

Lots of possibilities came to mind.

It could have been the life she was born into, therefore it's what she knows. Family tradition and duty and coming to love this way of life as an adult thanks to it's closeness to nature might also play a role in making this lifestyle choice. Marcela may naturally be an introvert who prefers her own company, and that of her family, most of the time. Perhaps, though, her excessive beauty has been the cause of much unwanted and inappropriate male attention all life and she has felt the need to withdraw from this intense, demanding gaze. To protect her virtue and her liberty, she has sought a life of solitude and peace away from the critical gaze, surrounded by the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

Like most life decisions, though, it is probably a complicated web, drawing in many threads of thought, emotions and unconscious desires. Bravo to Cervantes for painting such a strong, independent woman and bravo to Marcela for standing up for herself and creating her own life on her own terms.

#GoGirl

My previous post about Don Quixote:
Musings of an Idle Reader

Musings of an Idle Reader

Yikes!
Poems.

I didn't know I would have to read poems to get through Don Quixote!

I'm not averse to poetry; in fact, I love many, appreciate even more and adore a special few. But I've always struggled when authors insert poems, odes and songs into their work.

The songs throughout The Lord of the Rings bore me to tears and I cannot tell a lie, when I finished the Prologue in Don Quixote and turned the page to start the story proper and saw seven pages of sonnets, I nearly threw the book across the room!

So why do I persist?

Firstly, I've always wanted to read Cervantes 'best work of fiction in the world'*. I knew it would be challenging, so I had to wait until the right time to read it.

That time is now, thanks to Nick @One Catholic Life who is hosting a chapter-a-day readalong of Don Quixote starting on the 1st January 2019.

Secondly, the translator notes in my edition of the book claim that,

Cervantes' book contains within itself, in germ or full-blown, practically every imaginative technique and device used by subsequent fiction writers to engage their readers and construct their works.*

As an avid reader, why wouldn't I want to know more about the story that started it all!
She also enthuses about the writing, 'it gives off sparks and flows like honey.'* Wow, right?

Thirdly, Cervantes himself, in his Prologue, encourages his idle reader to,

say anything you desire about this history without fear that you will be reviled for the bad things or rewarded for the good that you might say about it.

Cervantes wants us to discuss his work, for good or bad.

Fourthly, he's having a cheeky go at us right from the start. He tells us, in his prologue, that he wants to tell a simple 'plain and bare' story,

unadorned by a prologue or the endless catalogue of sonnets, epigrams, and laudatory poems that are usually placed at the beginning of books.

Finally, and most importantly, thanks to Nick & co's support, I will not give up at the first hurdle. I will convert this hiccup into a learning experience instead. Nick has put up his first encouraging #Quixotereadalong post to help those of us wondering why on earth we agreed to do this!

* quotes from the Translator's Notes to the Reader in my 2005 Vintage edition of Don Quixote by Edith Grossman.

So far I have learnt that all these early poems are written by fictional characters to honour Cervantes own fictional character. Urganda the Unrecognised, Amadis of Gaul, Don Bellanis of Greece, Lady Oriana, Gandalin, Squire to Amadis of Gaul, Donoso, an Eclectic Poet, Orlando Furioso, The Knight of Phoebus, Solisdan and Babieca are all literary characters from some of Cervantes favourite chivalric stories.

Charlemagne killing Moorish Prince Feurre.
From Speigel Historiael by Jacob Van Maerlant, copied in West Flanders in 1325 to 1335.

Amadis the Gaul was first published in Spain in 1508 (author unknown). It is considered to be a 'masterpiece of medieval fantasy. It inspired a century of best-selling sequels in seven languages and changed the way we think about knights, chivalry, damsels in distress, and courtly life in castles.' Amadis the Gaul also has it's very own blog devoted to it here.

Don Belianis of Greece is another chivalric romance novel from Spain, often published in English as The Honour of Chivalry (author unknown).

Orlando Furioso also known as The Frenzy of Orlando, or Raging Roland is an Italian epic poem by Ludovico Ariosto which first appeared in 1516. According to Wikipedia, it is a poem 'about war and love and the romantic ideal of chivalry. It mixes realism and fantasy, humour and tragedy.'

The first poem is from Urganda the Unrecognised:

a personage in Amadis of Gaul somewhat akin to Morgan la Fay and Vivien in the Arthur legend, though the part she plays is more like that of Merlin. She derived her title from the faculty which, like Merlin, she possessed of changing her form and appearance at will. The verses are assigned to her probably because she was the adviser of Amadis.

(from John Ormsby's 1885 translator notes)

He also believes all the poems:

should he preserved—not for their poetical merits, which are of the slenderest sort, but because, being burlesques on the pompous, extravagant, laudatory verses usually prefixed to books in the time of Cervantes, they are in harmony with the aim and purpose of the work, and also a fulfilment of the promise held out in the Preface.

Do you know what 'versos de cabo rato' are? I do!
The first poem from Urganda is written in this form, where the final syllable is missing from the end of the each line. I believe the point is humour!
There are various online forums (especially in Spanish) devoted to creating the endings for this poem if you dare.

I dared.

Cervantes doesn't believe that poetry should be limited to the humans in his story either. The faithful horses also get a chance to honour each other. Babieca was the steed of real-life, folk-hero El Cid and from him we learn that Don Quixote and his steed, Rocinante will probably spend most of the story being hungry.

So now that we've got that hurdle out of the way, it's time to jump into this picaresque, road-trip novel proper. Let the journey begin.

Now We Shall Be Entirely Free by Andrew Miller

Historical fiction is my favourite of all genres. It's probably also why I love classic books so much. Even if they were contemporary stories when written a hundred years ago, they are now historical fiction to me.

I'm not sure why I love being immersed in a time so far removed from our own, except I do love learning about times and places and peoples I would otherwise know little about. I love the imaginative journey, based on factual information, that my favourite historical fiction writers take me on. I also love the sense of continuity I get by seeing that even though our worlds may look and sound different, that people still go through the same emotional journeys regardless of the the historical era.

It comforts me to know that I'm not the first person to feel sad, scared, excited, hopeless, fearful, depressed, out of my depth, deliriously happy or just plain flat. Reading how other people, in other times, have survived and learnt to navigate a graceful way (or not) through their emotional stories, helps me to find ways to do the same in our more modern world.

Now We Shall Be Entirely Free by Andrew Miller is a Napoleonic era story all about people running from their pasts; that thing so many of us have tried to do as some point. The hope that moving away or moving on or changing one's surroundings will help us find a better version of ourselves or escape an older unpalatable truth.

However, as we all learn eventually, you cannot run from your past or who your really are, it will always come back to haunt you, one way or the other, until you face it square on, accept it, deal with it, learn from it and incorporate this into a newer, evolved you.

It seems that everyone in Now We Shall Be Entirely Free has a secret and something to hide. Shadowy figures dictate/guide the behaviour of our lone gunman as well as the family of siblings that we later find on an island off the coast of Scotland. Our protagonist is riddled with guilt and doubt and we're not quite sure, as the reader, where the truth lies.

The ending doesn't necessarily clear anything or everything up either. We learn about the truth of the matter that drives the story, but many things are left unresolved. Who was the unknown General that directed Calley to track down and kill Lacroix? And to what purpose? What was his motive? Was it a way for Miller to show us that Calley was not, and never would, be a free agent or free from his past. Was he making a comment on the importance of childhood in nurturing emotionally healthy adults?

We also explore the impact of war on not only the ones doing the soldiering but on innocent civilians as well. The civilians of little Spanish villages and those in England left to live with their returned traumatised soldiers. No-one leaves a war zone unscarred. Except perhaps those shadowy power-hungry figures behind the scenes pulling the strings. 

This story felt more straightforward than Miller's previous books, but there were still plenty of Miller's trademark twist and turns and unexpected insights. Miller writes a tense cat and mouse chase mixed with some romantic ideals and psychological insights. I enjoy the suspense, the little insights into human behaviour, the quiet moments between people that feel very authentic, but I do wish he would give us a little more resolution. But perhaps that's life. Nothing is ever resolved to our satisfaction. We all have memories we'd rather forget, yet finding a way to live with them can finally bring us a sense of peace. There's always things left unsaid, undone, but we continue on, searching for peace and freedom and a sense of belonging in this crazy, chaotic world we find ourselves living in.

However, if anyone would like to discuss the ending with me in the comments below, please do! One day I think it meant one thing; the next day another. I'd love to hear what you think.

And if you haven't read any Andrew Miller before, and you love great storytelling with an historical fiction setting, then this is your guy.

Maisie Dobbs Saves the Day

So I figure the only thing to do to find my words again, is to simply start writing and see what happens!

During this most recent blue funk, when writing left me and reading seemed too hard, I pulled out my next Maisie Dobbs book. She has seen me through quite a few meh times already. And I had high hopes this time around.

Maisie did not fail me.
But a double dose was required.

Leaving Everything Most Loved is book #10 in Jacqueline Winspear's cosy crime series. It is now 1933 and Winspear deftly weaves a modern day issue into her historical fiction. Scotland Yard requires Maisie's help to solve the problem of two murdered Indian women. The impact of racism, colonialism and the class system (in both England and India) all come under scrutiny via Winspear's more familiar themes of belonging, self-reflection and the lingering after effects of trauma and prejudice.

Maisie spends a lot of time analysing her own thoughts and behaviours as well as employing this skill to help her solve each case. Up until the past couple of books, Maisie was making progress. Her use of psychology, intuition and meditation was interesting.

However, I do feel that Winspear has now got bogged down with the romance between Maisie and James Compton. We all want Maisie to be happy in love, but at the same time, getting married and settling down with a family wont work for future story lines. Curiously part of the success of these stories is Maisie's continuing misery. What will happen to the series if Maisie finally finds happiness?

How can Winspear solve this dilemma?
Will the solution be found in India?

I for one couldn't leave it there.
I had to know what happened to Maisie next.

Would she move to Canada and marry James? Would she still be solving crimes? In India? Canada? Or back in London?

I knew that #11 A Dangerous Place was going to seriously mix things up right from the start.
Suddenly it is 1937 and Maisie is in Gibraltar.

Four years have gone by and she is still being referred to as Miss Dobbs.

A quick flashback via some letters and newspaper articles fill us in on the continuing misery of Maisie. I confess I nearly cried.

Unlike many of Maisie's loyal followers, though, I wasn't disappointed by this great leap forward.

Winspear had to do something dramatic to change the direction of the series. Maisie had reached an emotional stalemate at the end of the previous book. Whatever came next had to propel the series onto a new level or wrap things up for good.

I never bought the whole James and Maisie romance - it felt too convenient. And I was still holding a torch for Detective Richard Statton who rode off into the sunset with his young son and the end of book 8.

Bringing us closer to WWII politicking and the double-dealing of spies, was a smart move by Winspear. It may have been a bit clunky in execution, but it's what the series needed.

A Dangerous Place refers to the Spanish Civil War and the fate of refugees. I like how Winspear is gently drawing a line between historical events and current world affairs.

Obviously a new war will give Maisie plenty of opportunity to reflect on and confront her experiences as a WWI nurse. However, her ongoing angst is getting a little tired (although more than understandable), so I do hope that Winspear allows Maisie some psychological and emotional peace soon.

One of the problems with books in a series, is the author's habit of recapping previous events in each new book. It bugs me no end. Unfortunately Winspear is prone to it too. If a little reminiscence popped up naturally in the dialogue or an obvious link connected two of the cases, then fine, but the rehash for the sake of the rehash is just plain annoying for regulars of the series.

The few times I have unwittingly picked up a book from the middle of a series, the not knowing why things are happening, was the impetus I needed to go back and start the series from the beginning.

The Maisie books are not without their flaws, but if I had had #12 on hand, I would have started reading it straight away. (I did read the extract from Journey to Munich that was included at the end. It revealed a small leap forward to early 1938 and a Richard Statton teaser!)

There is something dependable and reassuring about Maisie. She is the perfect choice for a blue funk, a rainy Sunday afternoon or to ease a stressed out day.

I'm not completely done with this particular blue funk, but it is abating thanks to Maisie.

I'm also a little in love with Andrew Davidson's iconic wood engraving covers.

Maisie Dobbs #1
Maisie Dobbs #2 Birds of a Feather
Maisie Dobbs #3 Pardonable Lies
Maisie Dobbs #4 Messenger of Truth
Maisie Dobbs #5 An Incomplete Revenge
Maisie Dobbs #6 Among the Mad
Maisie Dobbs #7 The Mapping of Love and Death
Maisie Dobbs #8 A Lesson in Secrets
Maisie Dobbs #9 Elegy for Eddie
Maisie Dobbs #10 Leaving Everything Most Loved
Maisie Dobbs #11 A Dangerous Place
Maisie Dobbs #12 Journey to Munich
Maisie Dobbs #13 In This Grave Hour

These 2 books are 1 & 2 for my #20booksofsummer (winter) challenge.

Hot Milk by Deborah Levy

I am proud to say that I managed to read half of this year's Booker shortlist before the winner was announced.

Do Not Say We Have Nothing was an epic multi-generational family saga, His Bloody Project was a psychological historical fiction crime story, but Hot Milk was...?

Two days later, I'm still not sure what it was.

Hot Milk was definitely the one that came from somewhere completely different though.

I nearly gave up on it at one point, but there was something about the sandy, salty, grungy coastal area of Spain that Levy described and something about the passive-aggressive mother/daughter relationship that kept drawing me back in.

There was a hint of disquiet - who was watching who and who was studying who? A suggestion of danger or dread hung in the air. Careless actions and hypochondria dripped off every page.

I read some reviews that used the word 'dreamy' to describe the pace of this book as well as the narrator's view of the world, but I found it murkier than that. Fear and pain kept this story going. And hidden selves.

The numerous references to breast feeding and maternal nurturing gave us clues to understanding the title. Mythology and story telling also cropped up as themes. The constant reference to medusa's and their stings, suggested that Levy was playing around with whole worlds of symbolism - a mask, unresolved father issues, female rage, nihilism?

There was probably more going on behind this simple story than first met the eye, but it's wasn't easy to discover. It seemed light weight, but it wasn't.

It's after affects are lingering far longer than a simple story about a mother/daughter holiday in Spain has any right to. Levy carefully kept us off balance all the way through and the climax was worth waiting for. Sort of.

But still I have some doubts...I'm willing to accept that there are layers to be mined, but what's the point?

Have you read any Levy before?
Is this meandering, figurative style how she usually approaches her story-telling?

The Santiago Pilgrimage by Jean-Christophe Rufin

One of the reasons I love the Sydney Writer's Festival so much, is the way that it introduces me to new authors that I may not have otherwise come across.

Rufin is a doctor who co-founded Medecins San Frontieres and has worked as an ambassador for France, which is interesting enough on its own. But he is also a writer and one of the growing band of pilgrims who has walked the North Route of the Camino Way.

I'm a walker. I prefer to walk to work, the shops, to the park, out for dinner or just for a Sunday afternoon stroll. I have completed the 27km 7 Bridges walk in Sydney, but I baulk at the idea of walking hundreds of miles through all weathers just to end up at a church that supposedly contains the relic of some saint I don't believe in.

Rufin's book, The Santiago Pilgrimage, attracted my attention though, as he also approached the religious aspect of this pilgrimage with a great deal of scepticism. Instead, after a very busy period of his life, he simply decided he needed to go for a long walk to clear his head.

His travel memoir, provides a little background information about the pilgrimage, but then he goes on to outline his approach to this long walk with humour and humility.

Rufin tells us about the 'real' pilgrims from the 'fake' ones, the various ways to travel, ones choice of baggage (physical and emotional) and how you do 'not take the Way, the Way' takes you.

I learnt that the various Way's are not necessarily lovely scenic, wild tracks - 'the wonders of the Way do indeed exist but they are not constant'. At times the pilgrim has to walk 'through charmless suburbs and alongside motorways'.

Rufin's descriptions of the joys and woes of the solitude of walking brought to mind the various phases I went through when I lived alone for many years.

I enjoyed his tale. The translation was easy to read and entertaining. At various times I felt the urge to join him on his pilgrimage, but by the end, I felt less inclined to attempt this particular walk. If I ever head off on a big walk, I have plenty of beautiful walks much closer to home.

16/20 Books of summer (winter)

P.S. I'm quite keen to try one of Rufin's works of fiction. Have you read any? Which ones have been translated into English?

I also noted on the back cover that Rufin won the Prix Nomad in 2013 for this book. I couldn't find anything about this award anywhere on google, so have to assume it's a book award for travel books?

Little People Big Dreams

The Little People Big Dreams series is published by Frances Lincoln Children's Books.

Written by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara and translated into English by Emma Martinez, this biographical series featuring iconic women for young readers is set to capture our hearts and imaginations big time.

Starting with Coco Chanel and Frida Kahlo earlier this year, we can look forward to seeing Amelia Earhart and Maya Angelou (written by US author Lisbeth Kaiser writing her first children's book) next month and Agatha Christie and Marie Curie early next year.

I see on Goodreads that Vegara also has a Spanish edition of Audrey Hepburn that I hope we see translated into English very soon.

Vegara is from Barcelona. According to the Quarto webpage, she aims to "combine creativity with learning, aiming to establish a new and fresh relationship between children and pop culture."

Coco Chanel is illustrated by Ana Albero. She grew up in Spain, studied art in Paris and is now based in Berlin. Using graphite and coloured pencils, Albero's illustrations reflect her graphic art experience with Biografiktion, which features comic-style stories about real people. (One of her previous projects was on Abba - I would love to see a Little People, Big Dreams treatment about that!)

Having read many, many bio's on Chanel over the years, I can tell you that her story here has been romanticised and sanitized to suit its intended young audience. Something that Chanel, the mistress of reinterpretation, would approve of wholeheartedly.

The moral of Chanel's story is that being different is okay.

Frida Kahlo is illustrated by Gee Fan Eng, a Malaysian based illustrator.

Difference, or 'specialness' is one of the main themes again, although Kahlo's courage and determination is also stressed. Her ability to overcome and persevere against such extreme adversity is one of the truly inspirational elements to her story. As Kahlo was famous for saying, 'viva lavida' - live life!

Thanks to an exhibition currently on display at the Art Gallery of NSW, the Frida book has been spotted everywhere.

(My post about my visit to the Kahlo - Rivera exhibition is here).

We have had a copy in our window display at work for over a month now.

I love hearing young kids walk by and exclaim loudly to their slightly bemused parents, "that's Frida Kahlo!"

As someone who happily courted and collaborated in projecting a very specific image of herself out into the world, I'm sure Kahlo would be delighted to see the cult of Frida (Los Fridos) continues through a new generation of devotees on the other side of the world.

Both books contain a timeline at the back to give the young reader a little more detail.

Thanks to the research I did for this post, I am now following several new illustrators on Instagram.