Here are extracts from a few more reviews of Ocean Without End:

“Captain de Diablo is bad enough, but he’s being controlled by a mysterious man called Hussein Reis, an Irishman turned Turkish pirate. There are battles and adventures galore, resulting in Lily becoming navigator on a small ship crewed by likeable rogues. Lily is rather too mature and confident for her age – but hey, it’s a pirate story. Young female readers will probably love a heroine who bosses grown men around.”
– Lorraine Orman

“While some of Lily’s exploits seem a touch unbelievable (how did a twelve year old learn to sword fight so well?) the book is fast-moving and fun, and exactly what many a twelve year old secretly dreams.”
– Lois Huston, Storylines All At Sea Booklist

“All the romance of the exotic, in the great Victorian tradition of swashbuckling adventure, is here writ large… There must still be room in a curriculum where often literature is bent to pedagogic and ideological ends, to revel in an adventure of ‘otherness’, to weave a tale about an exotic past replete with characters both eccentric and mysterious.”
– John McKenzie, Talespinner.

By the way, the Storylines themed booklists are terrific, and you can download them here, or have them posted to you if you join the organisation (the Children’s Literature Foundation of NZ). The Storylines Festival kicks off next month.
Talespinner is the critical journal of children’s literature produced by Christchurch College of Education.
A few people have asked about the swordfighting business, so all I can say is that I started fencing when I was eleven, trained nearly every day, and by the time I was twelve I had quadriceps like a rugby front-rower and I could have beaten any clumsy old pirate or sailor.
They never practised. Didn’t have a clue. Preferred to bonk people on the head with a lump of wood. Errol Flynn was nowhere to be seen. It drove Hornblower crazy.
There’s more about that in the second Swashbuckler book, The Pirate’s Revenge.
Fencing, I mean, not The Horn (incidentally now back on UK TV in all his gorgeous knicker-bockered glory).

Here’s a mini-essay I wrote for the latest issue of Magpies journal, on writing historical fiction (you have to scroll down, but on the way read the wise words of Jackie French and Catherine Jinks on the matter).

She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.
– Louisa May Alcott (1873)

So this morning’s paper brings revelations of yet another brilliant literary expose: TE Lawrence just pretended to have been sexually assaulted while in custody, and wrote about it in The Seven Pillars of Wisdom to get back at a political enemy of Faisal.
As you do.
What a crock.
Last month Shakespeare’s plays were written by … well, actually I can’t remember now, there’s a new Shakespeare theory every month. Maybe it was Elizabeth or the Duke of Norfolk or Henry V. Anyone with a lace collar. Can’t have been Lady Jane Grey. But whoever it was, it wasn’t Shakespeare. Might have been Wilbur Smith. I’m not sure.
It’s all nonsense. Don’t these people have something better to do with their lives?
Anyway, I know the truth. But can you handle the truth?
All right. Here it is. Prepare to be shocked. Your life will never be the same from this moment on.
Shakespeare’s plays were actually written backwards and in Latin by Leonardo Da Vinci (hence all the Italian settings) on the back of a painting by a left-handed albino monk whose descendents include TE Lawrence, Lucille Ball, and Katie Holmes. Or maybe it was Paul Holmes. Or Sherlock Holmes. I haven’t quite finished that bit of research.
But of course Da Vinci himself, as we all know, was descended from Lot’s Wife, and ran off with Drew Barrymore in Ever After – they went to Denmark, apparently (hence Hamlet) and were thought lost at sea (Tempest) but were saved by the great-great-grandfather of the same Turkish captain who arrested Lawrence (but didn’t lay a finger on him).
Amazing, for sure, but it’s clearly worth a 1000-page hardback.
I’m expecting a call from the History Channel any moment. I’m planning a Special Premiere. No, dammit – a mini-series. It’ll be called The Truth Behind the Da Vinci Bloodline: An Epic Saga of Conspiracy, Big Advances and Intrigue. And other stuff I haven’t thought up yet.
See you in court, Mister Shakespeare. If that’s who you really are.

Sydney is missing one of its icons following John Marsden’s death in Turkey a few days ago.
John was always larger than life: forthright, loud, generous, emotional, loyal and funny. He knew everyone, knew everyone’s business, and loved it. He loved the law and the justice system with faith and passion, even when it clearly didn’t live up to expectations.
Sometimes, especially during his own court case saga, he was low and his face clouded. He worried about God, about judgement, about the world. He was no saint, but he worried about other people, supported thousands in myriad ways, stuck by people when they were down, and raised issues nobody else wanted to discuss.
We always had lunch in the same Italian restaurant, at the same table, and he always ate the same thing. Bright silk ties, striped shirts, suits cut just right – it was a bit like attending a baron down on his luck: people dropped by the table to say hello, or waved from afar, and he’d wink across the room.
He got mad at me a couple of times (with reason) and while I’d rather not be shouted at by John Marsden, I prefer his blunt, tearful and passionate honesty to other people’s creepy backhand politicking any day.
He was one of the great scrappers – a good bloke to have on your side, and he was on the side of many. It’s hard to imagine Sydney without him.

Joy Cowley has won the New Zealand Post Book of the Year with her novel for young readers, Hunter. “This novel so impressed the judges with its power and originality that they singled it out as a tour de force of fiction writing with the potential to become a classic of fiction writing for young readers on the international stage.”
The award was presented to Joy Cowley last night by the Prime Minister Helen Clark and New Zealand Post’s Chief Executive Officer, John Allen.
Mr Allen said: “The importance of nourishing children’s literature, and therefore encouraging our young people to read, cannot be overestimated. Books not only impart knowledge but more importantly they enrich the imagination, giving our children the ability to innovate and create.”
The judging panel, chaired by Julie Harper of Jabberwocky Children’s Bookshop, read and debated the merits of 118 books published during 2005. “We were taken on many journeys – journeys that informed us or took us to imaginary, exciting worlds, journeys that made us laugh and cry and appreciate the experience of others,” Julie said.
The category winners and honour award recipients are:
New Zealand Post Book of the Year:
Hunter by Joy Cowley (Puffin)
Junior Fiction Category:
Hunter by Joy Cowley (Puffin)
Honour Award:
Sil by Jill Harris (Longacre Press)
Young Adult Fiction Category:
With Lots of Love from Georgia by Brigid Lowry (Allen & Unwin)
Honour Award:
Kaitangata Twitch by Margaret Mahy (Allen & Unwin)
Picture Book Category:
A Booming in the Night by Ben Brown, illustrated by Helen Taylor (Reed Publishing)
Honour Award:
Haere – Farewell, Jack, Farewell by Tim Tipene, illustrated by Huhana Smith (Huia Publishers)
Non Fiction Category:
Scarecrow Army: The Anzacs at Gallipoli by Leon Davidson (Black Dog Books)
Honour Award:
Blue New Zealand: Plants, Animals, Environments – A Visual Guide by Glenys Stace (Puffin)
Best First Book Award:
The Unknown Zone by Phil Smith (Random House New Zealand)
Children’s Choice Award:
Nobody’s Dog written by Jennifer Beck and illustrated by Lindy Fisher.

“When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes.”
– Erasmus

A new bookcase arrived. Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen. We are now thoroughly organised although somehow, even though the new bookcase is enormous, there are still piles of books on and beside my desk. How did they get there?
I’ve been studiously working my way through the bedside reading pile. Not that it’s a chore.
Just finished Geraldine Brooks’ Pulitzer winner, March, her life of the missing father from Little Women. It can be difficult to get inside the head – as a writer or a reader – of a character you know to be rather feeble of will. Unless, of course, you are Proust. But Brooks has managed it, and manages to keep the reader engaged even though you want to slap March from time to time, and although even redemption seems to slip through his fingers – except, finally, as his discovers his only real purpose, as the father of the little women. It’s deft, frustrating, and fascinating.
A pleasant change from a few mediocre kids’ novels I’ve read in the last week. But let’s not go there.

I went back to Sydney last week. It’s been a while. I’m not sure that the sense of exile is quite over, but the sun was out in Sin City and Darling Harbour was filled with writers, illustrators, teachers, librarians, and school groups in uniform – all mad about kids’ books.
The Children’s Book Council conference began with the sound of didgeridoo and flute (the first notes rendered me utterly homesick) and over the next few days we heard from people like Emily Rodda (Deltora), Helen Oxenbury (Alice in Wonderland illustrator), Terry Denton (illustrator of Andy Griffiths’ books and much more), Libby Gleeson (guru), Michelle Paver (Wolf Brother), and Steven Herrick (poet).
Particularly thoughtful was Danish fantasy writer Lene Kaaberbol (The Shamer Chronicles). Even though I don’t write, or really read, fantasy, and haven’t read her work, I related to her accounts of the issues she had to confront in writing about good and evil, male and female characters, and also about the ways in which fantasy (or historical fiction) can hold up a mirror to the modern world.
The session on poetry with Wendy Michaels, Steven Herrick, Libby Hathorn and Jonathan Shaw was a treat – just to be sitting about discussing poetry (on board the old Manly ferry) was wonderfully luxurious.
And in the Expo section people just kept giving out books, Clifford the Big Red Dog wandered around hugging children, the were constant launches, and illustrators sat in a studio space showing how they weave their magic. I watched Bruce Whatley whip up a very familiar-looking wombat.
Speaking of luxury, I treated myself to a copy of the commemorative edition of Treasure Island, gorgeously illustrated by Robert Ingpen, and even lined up to get it signed – something I never do (I’m usually too shy).
And I spent an awful lot of time explaining that even though I had come from New Zealand I was actually Australian. Someone even asked me if I was Lynley Dodd. Hilarious. She’s about four feet taller than me and about six billion times more famous. But my poor dead dog Lil was the spitting image of Hairy McLairy.

Extracts from latest reviews of my book, as promised:

“Readers will be captivated by the story and will look forward to the release of the second exciting novel.”
– Tomorrow’s Schools Today

“I enjoyed the part where Lily gets sent down to work with the cook, because the cook is the only one at the beginning who is nice to Lily… I look forward to reading the rest of the series.”
– Laura Rogers (aged 12), Timaru Herald

“Don’t be put off by the awful cover: this book is a really good read.”
– Marlborough Express

“Kelly Gardiner doesn’t avoid the violence and death of the pirate world – Lily has to help the cook treat the wounded and dying in battle – but she has also created a fast-paced, swashbuckling story… the first of what promises to be a very lively series.”
– The Press

“There’s lots of action, daring acts of courage and detailed descriptions of seamanship… There’s no great depth to the characters but action is the driving force of the book and, I suspect, the series. It’s an exciting introduction to a time in history that rarely appears in history for children.”
– Rayma Turton, Magpies Journal

I particularly like it when young readers write the reviews.
That’s an interesting comments about the characters, from Ray Turton at Magpies. There are many hidden depths and twists revealed in books two and three, so that’s a little lesson for me not to leave all the mysteries – or development – until too late. Good feedback.
But that comment abut the cover? The book’s cover is exactly as I’d hoped. What do you think?