ST201903

AGATON SAX SERIES

BY NILS-OLOF FRANZÉN

Read by Jackie Swanson (picture editor)

aged nine

This was the first (of many) detective

novels I ever read; starring a Swedish

comic detective called Agaton Sax and

I absolutely loved it. Being something

of a completist, it became my mission to

read the entire series and thankfully my

local library was happy and able to oblige.

I have to admit to not really

remembering a huge amount about

ories themselves, beyond

n outwitting various

nals in a comical way, but

has stayed in my memory are

olourful cover illustrations

e translated English editions

Quentin Blake. They always

ured Agaton as the roundish,

ustachioed protagonist

dressed in a dapper three-piece suit and

wearing a bowler hat, very reminiscent

of Hercule Poirot. Sometimes pictured

with his dachshund Tikkie or his Aunt

Matilda, who was quite a formidable

ally and pretty handy in sticky

situations with her weapon of choice,

a sturdy black umbrella.

What the books did give me was a

lifelong love of detective and crime

fiction. It’s not always been the most

fashionable genre but when I’m stuck

for something to read, I’ll happily pick

up an old Poirot, a Sherlock Holmes or

a Maigret, regardless of how many times

I’ve read that particular story and it’s

always a joy to find a vintage green

Penguin paperback when scanning the

shelves of a second-hand book shop.

I even opted for a crime-writing theme

when naming my hens – Aggie (Agatha

Christie), Margie (Margery Allingham)

and Dotty (Dorothy L Sayers).

THE SILVER BRUMBY

BY ELYNE MITCHELL

Read by Lisa Sykes (editor) aged ten

Like many girls of a certain age, I longed

for a pony. But like many girls of a certain

age, I had to make do with pony books

instead. These were of the posh Home

Counties pony club ilk, all gymkhanas

and jodphurs (an exotic world for

someone living in a modern bungalow

in Yorkshire). The Silver Brumby was

something else again: here the ponies

were wild and free and living in far-off

Australia. Not even the dry, hot, down

under we knew from films and books but

a mountainous realm of snow, ice and

peaks. I could see it so clearly in my mind:

a place where a brumby (wild horse) could

rear on rocks, mane streaming in the

wind; glide through snowgums and cross

fast-running creeks to avoid the stockmen

out to herd, catch and tame them each

spring thaw. Their biggest potential prize,

the legendary Thowra,

a beautiful, proud silver-coated sta

who we follow through Elyne

Mitchell’s descriptive prose from h

birth on a stormy night to his wise

mother Bel Bel, through to becomi

King of the Brumbies, roaring his

dominance and protecting his

mares, famed for his speed, bravery

and cleverness. What a horse!

There were sequels, but this was

the one that I read and re-read

before lending it to a girl who is

no longer a friend. I bought a new

edition when my own daughter wa

same age and unlike many other rejected

childhood classics, whose language in the

70s was already dated, Thowra captured

her imagination, as he had once (and,

truth be told, still does) mine.

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THINK (^) | NOSTALGIA