We are delighted to welcome talented and versatile author-illustrator Yasmeen Ismail to the blog to introduce the books she and her fellow judges chose to shortlist for this year’s Klaus Flugge Prize, and explains why the award, which highlights debut illustrators, is so important.

I am always excited to be judging anything for a variety of reasons. First up, there’s the fact that I get to have an opinion. Then there’s the excitement of knowing the winners before anyone else does; the look on the winners’ faces when they find out they’ve won; the awards ceremony; the catering… Oh my! 

The whole ritual around awards is so much fun, and it’s wonderful to be a part of it, especially one as prestigious as the Klaus Flugge Prize, because this award champions debut illustrators. There is something particularly rewarding when you are celebrating a new talent.

As a judge I looked for several things in the illustrations. I wanted to see how the illustrator handled the subject matter, how the pictures flowed and whether the images added anything to the story or lifted the story to a different level. I was, of course, also looking for illustrations that were aesthetically pleasing. I was looking for something new and fresh in the illustration style. For me it is not enough to just draw the pictures to match the story, I want to see the pictures working with the story, looking beautiful and interesting, but providing a depth of feeling, and being imaginative, playful, and relatable. 

I am always cheered when I receive books in the post and when I received this longlist it was great to see such a variety from these new illustrators. Some books were tackling very tough subject matter, others were more playful. It was heartening to see so many different styles in all the debut books. This certainly did make it trickier to judge, but there were some stand out winners whose illustrations filled all my criteria and made my heart skip to boot.

When we did sit around the table to judge together, I think we all had some favourites in mind. There were five of us on the judging panel  - last year’s winner Kate Winter, my fellow illustrator Bruce Ingman, early years expert Rachna Joshi and chair, Julia Eccleshare, and we were all, thankfully, pretty much in agreement. 

Mikey Please’s book, The Café at the Edge of the Woods, is so funny. The illustrations of the ogre and Glumfoot made me laugh out loud. There was a real atmosphere to the style of the illustrations, but most of all it was the humour in the pictures that won me over. The whole thing feels very new and original.

Emma Farraron’s illustrations for Charlie Castles’ My Hair is as Long as a River are so fresh. A real treat to see her loose style used with such imagination. I really enjoyed her endpapers too, the use of colour is lovely. There’s real imagination and fun in this book.

Finally, Rhian Stone’s illustrations for Frances Tosdevin’s book, Grandad’s Star, are so moving and well executed. Not only are the illustrations incredibly beautiful and well thought out, but they are also full of emotion. 

It’s so important to support new illustrators. Illustrating is a pretty solitary endeavour, and it’s difficult to look objectively at the work you are doing when you are doing it. Once a book is out there it’s sort of gone, and unless you walk outside of your home or studio and demand an opinion (which has its own perils), there’s no real way of knowing if your work holds any value in the outside world. Awards provide that validation. Validation that your work has been seen, looked at, considered, and enjoyed. Not only that, they celebrate different books. Books that children may not have heard about, in a world where only a handful of authors and illustrators are promoted. Awards like the Klaus Flugge Prize give space to showcase something new, fresh, exciting, and different. Books that we may not have noticed, but which deserve to be in the spotlight.

Irish-born, Bristol-based Yasmeen Ismail is an award-winning author, illustrator and animator. After co-founding a successful animation production company, Yasmeen changed her focus to writing and illustrating picture books. Her first picture book ‘Time for Bed, Fred’ with Bloomsbury Publishing, won the V&A Best Illustrated Book Award and The New York Times Best Illustrated Book award. It was shortlisted for the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize, longlisted for the CILIP Kate Greenaway Medal, and nominated for the National Cartoonists Society “Silver Reuben” Award. Following the success of her debut picture book she has been nominated for her other works many times since and has been selected by the Society of Illustrators to have her work shown in the Original Art Exhibition in New York six years in a row. Her most recent book is Meena’s Saturday (Puffin), written by Kusum Mepani.

The books shortlisted for this year’s Klaus Flugge Prize are:

My Hair is as Long as a River illustrated by Emma Farrarons, written by Charlie Castle (Macmillan)

The Café at the Edge of the Woods by Mikey Please (HarperCollins Children’s Books)

Grandad’s Star illustrated by Rhian Stone, written by Frances Tosdevin (Rocket Bird Books)

The winner will be announced on 11 September 2025. klausfluggeprize.co.uk


Image below shows Yasmeen Ismail, taken by Jake Green.

Big thanks to Yasmeen Ismail for such a terrific blog and to Andrea Reece and the Klaus Flugge Prize for the opportunity.

We are hugely excited to welcome the incredibly talented authors and illustrators James Mayhew and Jackie Morris to the blog to talk about their new collaboration Mrs Noah’s Song, illustration, influences, music and nature in a far-reaching and wide-ranging interview.

Please could you introduce us to Mrs Noah?

Jackie:

Mrs Noah is a woman of few words, but great action. She is kind and gentle and thinks for herself. She’s also a wise woman. She is a mother first and her family mean the world to her, but/and her family includes all that is living, from stone to tree to bird to bee to mythical creatures whose blood are stories. 

James:

I love the connection Mrs Noah has to nature, and her strength and resourcefulness. What I love about her in this story is her vulnerability, which we haven’t seen much of before. This story explores sadness, memory, and what you leave behind when you migrate. At the same time, Mrs Noah is a positive force, and through song she connects her family deeply in their new land.

What was involved in building out the character of Mrs Noah?

Jackie:

There are parallels between the story of Noah and Mrs Noah and the story in the Bible, but they are most certainly not the same thing. Mrs Noah is a story of migration, whilst the Bible story is one of apocalyptic vengeance, involving the death of all life, except for the one chosen family. As a child I could never understand why this story of extreme horror was told to children as a cute ‘look at all the animals, two by two’. I saw all that was left out, all who were drowned, punished and wiped from the face of the earth. Horror. Mrs Noah may have an ark, a husband and lots of animals. The roots may have sprouted from the Bible, but they all come from a place of love, not vengeance.

James:

I’m always amused when people complain that this doesn’t follow the bible story! In fact, Jackie was initially prompted to write the story after seeing my designs for Benjamin Britten’s children’s opera Noye’s Fludde. This has a rather irreverent Mrs Noah, who gets drunk, gossips and in one scene slaps Mr Noah - and the text is from the Chester Miracle Plays, written down in the 13th century! So the idea that Mrs Noah can only be one thing is absurd and has been for centuries. Jackie version is the best of the lot, of course!

In this book Mrs Noah is teaching the children to sing.  How important do you think it is for children to sing and what benefits do you think this brings?

Jackie:

Singing it a beautiful thing, and the rights of the child to sing, to be heard, to learn how music fits together and to find their own voice is of fundamental importance to me. Through music children can learn so much about listening and sharing.

James:

Children are naturally musical. This fundamental means of communication seems incredibly important to me, and I really don’t understand while music (and all the arts) are sidelined in education. The benefits are huge: language, memory, collaboration, confidence, storytelling, history, cultural differences, celebration, mourning, joy and sorrow - and humour! It’s all there in song.

You’ve both been involved with projects that bring music, stories and art together, can you tell us about this and the impact of music on children?

James:

I’ve been painting with musicians and orchestras for 15 years. It’s grown to become a huge part of my professional practice and inspired my book Once Upon A Tune. I work mostly in the classical world, restoring original tales to music inspired by myths and legends, and illustrating live to underpin the meaning of the music. It’s had a hugely response with family audiences who come back year after year. But also, as an art/music workshop in the classroom, I’ve been moved to see how many of the quiet, under confident children start to shine. Autistic children, elective mutes, Down’s Syndrome children too, they see to respond deeply to the music, and create and join in. It’s been exceptionally rewarding.

I was fortunate enough to see Jackie painting to music at the World premiere of Spell Songs at Snape in Suffolk. This concert of folk music is inspired by her collaboration with Robert McFarlane, The Lost Words (for which Jackie won the Kate Greenaway medal). It was very special to be in the audience and witness how art, words and music can intertwine so powerfully, so gracefully. Jackie has gone on to tour all over the country, painting in beautiful inks and casting her own spell. It’s funny we’ve both ended up enchanted and bewitched by music, and song.

Are there any particular pieces of music which especially resonate with you and do you listen to music when writing and illustrating?

James:

When I’m writing I need silence. When I’m illustrating I listen to all sorts of music. I love any music that tells a story. I tend to listen to mostly classical music, but I also have a big long of traditional folk songs from other countries.  I especially love Spanish folk music - I have many records by a Spanish/Catalan soprano Victoria de Los Angeles. Although she was best known as an opera singer, she was also the first to record many traditional songs of Spain. What fascinates me is the Arabic, Indian or Jewish influences on the songs, many written during the time the Moors ruled Spain. The Arabesques in the music remind us that these are songs that travelled from other cultures. Like Mrs Noah and her family, songs migrate too!

In the classical world, my biggest loves are Sibelius and Rimsky-Korsakov - they were both “musical illustrators” creating wonderful images and stories in sound.

Jackie, how does it feel to write stories that are illustrated by somebody else?

I love writing for other illustrators, and it is always a delight to see my words come to life in the paintings and collages. I would love to do more. I would so love to write for Petr Horacek and Angela Barrett, but then would have loved to have written for Brian Wildsmith and Pauline Baynes.

James, please can you tell us about the process and media you used for illustrating Mrs Noah’s song?

This is a technique I developed especially for the first Mrs Noah book. Essentially it is collage, but it involves lots of printmaking too. I love printing and lino-cutting, so I create often abstract linocuts and print them to create interesting textures. These linos can be printed on all sorts of paper, including music scores. other papers are painted, scribbled on, rubbed with crayons etc. I them cut these up the create the images. Often an unexpected decision is made - sometimes a paper will suggest something different to what I’d intended. There is a huge amount of experiment and play, which I love. Ultimately, my eye, my *vision* guides it all, but I constantly surprise myself. Some small details are fiddly and difficult (and I may resort to drawing for those), and it’s a time-consuming (all- consuming!) practice. It is hard work. But I love that until every bit is glued, it can continually change.

The depiction of nature and of light is beautiful and there’s a real sense of joy and wonder in how children connect with nature and the environment around them.  Was nature important to you growing up and has it continued to be?

Jackie:

This seems like so strange a question. Without Nature we do not exist, so, yes, it was important to my basic life support. It’s not a theme park, it is life support. We are all connected, and humans are so small a part of the natural, wild world. We just happen to be a very badly behaved part, who need to take a good look at our place in the universe and re-establish our focus on what is important. EVERY LIVING THING.

James:

One Spring, when I was about ten years old, I woke up in the night, and decided to creep downstairs. I tiptoed through the kitchen and unlocked the door. The sky was almost green, and the grass in the garden was wet with dew. In our garden was a very old apple tree, big enough for a hammock. There is a special magic about being somewhere you shouldn’t, especially when the rest of the world is asleep. I lay in the hammock and watched the sky change. One by one the birds awoke, singing their little hearts out, louder and louder! A thrilling sound, bursting with life and music; an exultation. It was transcendent and never forgotten: my first drawn chorus.

When I first chatted to Jackie Morris about her ideas for Mrs Noah’s Song, I described this memory. She very generously wove it into the story. When she first read it, I cried. It touched on something very deep inside - obviously my memory, but also something more - the beauty of the natural world, so often smothered in mankind’s noise, or threatened with environmental damage. But it also spoke of the power of music, of the arts, and of communication, and sharing.

I grew up in the country, in a tiny village in Suffolk. There was nothing else there *except* Nature. Perhaps I take that immersion in the natural world for granted? I don’t know. It was a very simple, very ordinary childhood in many ways. It wasn’t an idyll. But I learned huge respect for nature, for weather. In Suffolk, the skies and sunsets were astonishing. As an adult, going out into the world, it’s been quite demoralising to see what the human race has done to the planet - the roads, the cities, the trashing of Nature. Five years ago, I moved back to Suffolk. It called me home, and I couldn’t be happier. I need to be near woodland, river and birdsong.

A big thank you to James Mayhew and Jackie Morris for the interview and to Tatti de Jersey and Otter-Barry Books for the opportunity.  The Youth Libraries Group annual conference this year focuses around nature and the environment, Reading the Planet.  To find out more visit here.

Photos: James Mayhew by respira fotografia; Jackie Morris by Elly Lucas

Eva Eland grew up in Delft, Netherlands. She studied at the School of Visual Arts in New York as well as at the Cambridge School of Art, where she received a distinction in children’s book illustration. Eva won the 2020 Klaus Flugge Prize with When Sadness Comes to Call, which also won a V&A award, book cover category.  Where Happiness Begins was published in 2020.

With such a broad range of illustrations and all the different approaches to storytelling in the longlist of this year’s Klaus Flugge Prize - the prize for the most exciting newcomer in picture books - it has been very inspiring for me to delve into and analyse the books. The shortlist contains five very distinctive books, that feel fresh, original and demonstrate a high standard of work. Parents, children and book lovers in general are lucky with all the new picture books they can choose from these days.

The fact that the books and illustrations are very different from each other in how they look and what they accomplish, reminds me of just how many functions a book can have. Picture books can be these beautiful and rich objects we can share with each other, talk about, enjoy and be comforted by. They can invite us to reflect on our life, our relationships and put our feelings into words and images, giving us the vocabulary we might need to deal with some of the more complicated issues in life. They can offer an escape and stir our imagination, make us wonder and test our own understanding of the world and our preconceived ideas. Some might even encourage us to be brave, as they remind us of the things that truly matter and that we can always return home.

Illustration, and especially the space between text and image and how they relate to each other, has such a vital importance to bring all these elements out in a book. It can build worlds for the words to live in. For children, a picture book can be their first encounter with art and art, in turn, I think, can help stimulate an appreciation for the beauty that can be found all around us. An appreciation that will enrich our lives and help to cultivate a sense of childlike wonder.

To have a prize that is focused on illustration alone, and that encourages new talent by celebrating their work and giving them more visibility, is hugely important in a time where so many new books get published every year, and new makers might otherwise get lost.

The longlist for the Klaus Flugge Prize is well worth perusing, as each of the books has their own story to tell and there are some exceptional and original new voices in illustration that I’m sure we will see more of in the future.

From these books, five of them stood out in particular, and make up this year's shortlist.

My Red Hat by Rachel Stubbs is a tender tale, full of love, showing the relationship between a grandfather and child. They share stories, adventures and dreams together and we get a sense of all the things that a grandparent might want to pass down to their grandchild, and the encouragement they can offer to go and discover the world on their own. This story unfolds in a very organic way and at a gentle pace, from spread to spread, with the red hat as a visual and thematic thread holding the words and images together. The unusual landscape format and the hand drawn typography fit the story and the illustrations perfectly.

Rachel Stubbs cleverly depicts childhood, with all its ups and downs, and the moments when you might get lost but are found again and return home, ‘to where you belong’. The looseness of the marks and the delicate lines add to the gentle and imaginative atmosphere and the limited colour palette gives it that extra nostalgic flavour, cherishing the innocence of childhood and the special bond that can exist between child and grandparent.

A book that stands out for its very original approach to the illustrations is While You’re Sleeping, illustrated by John Broadley and written by Mick Jackson. The book takes us through a night and its creatures, workers and wanderers. With its absence of a story arch or protagonist, there is a consistency and rhythm to the words and images that could work like the perfect bedtime lullaby.

The bold lines, limited colour palette and collage of patterns are reminiscent of the great English print-makers of the thirties and forties like Eric Ravilious and Edward Bawden, yet it feels utterly unique and there is an otherworldly quality to the artwork, with its wonky perspectives and stiff characters, adding a layer of mystery to this whole different world that seems to emerge at night.

The way the light is depicted in this book caught my eye - for the dark nighttime spreads we see beams of yellow light, with the indoor spaces like the hospital using the white of the page to indicate brightly lit spaces. Time passes slowly in this busy night, with clever transitions from the left hand to the right hand page, some compositions framed by walls and lamp posts, and other spreads bleeding off the borders creating a sense of vastness and timelessness. Though this book doesn’t tell a conventional story, it leaves you with a lot of threads of little narratives and a diverse range of characters you could make your own stories for. The illustrations are so rich with detail, that you will have plenty of room to meander through this book, and its night, and wonder about all the different lives that people are living simultaneously, and maybe in doing so, one might slowly drift away to sleep.

I was immediately drawn to the painterly and colourful illustrations by Charlotte Ager for Child of Galaxies, written by Blake Nuto. I was already familiar with her work, and it was interesting to see how she managed to bring her world and visual vocabulary to this text, and give a lot of abstract and big ideas a sense of place to simmer, allowing them to expand their meaning further. The fluid quality of the textures, marks and sketchy pencil lines, combined with a changing colour palette that help shift moods and meaning, fit the poetic text perfectly. Sometimes the words are paired with bold compositions, using what looks like collage with painted paper, or using the very spacious white of the paper itself, creating a lot of room for interpretation. Other times the text is accompanied by a more sensitive and emotive image, with shades of a limited colour palette and directional painted marks, or, for example, looming tree figures that frame a child. Scale, colours, textures and mark making are used to great effect by Charlotte Ager. The meditation on nature and the beauty all around in the illustrations, even when ‘shadows persist’, will offer the reader a lot of opportunities to reflect on the abstract ideas the text offers.The diverse range of characters makes this book feel inclusive and directed to all of us, just like the text reminds us we’re all made ‘from the stuff of the stars’.

Gustavo, the Shy Ghost is a classic story in its essence, about a shy little ghost wanting to make friends, who overcomes his own fear and reaches out. A story that will be relatable and comforting for those who experience similar shyness and insecurities (though I bet at times we all have a little bit of Gustavo in us and will recognise the universal fear of not being seen and invited to play). It’s hard not to like this character or not identify with the moments of longing and hesitation (oh, just imagine the anguish of missing a good opportunity like getting ‘eye-scream’ because you were too shy! Or wanting to get close to the girl you love but not knowing how to make yourself noticed).

This book is filled with details, textures, references and full of the strangest, yet adorable, creatures, that reappear throughout the book, with a lot to discover on each spread, making this book a joy to read and I imagine one to read again and again, reminding little ones that they are not alone.

The structure of the story and the pairing of text and image are very well crafted, there is not a word too much, and though the images are full of details to be enjoyed, it never feels cluttered or distracting, which is a remarkable feat. There is a strong sense of place, grounded in warm and muted colours, with Mexican influences and many references to The Day of the Dead, classic horror films and monsters. The palette of muted colours contrasted with warm orange and Mexican pink, and clever use of negative space as well, are integral to the storytelling and add to the sense of drama, and calm, where needed. Everything in this book, from cover to the final end papers, appears to be very considered, yet there is a light and playful touch that feels very generous and authentic, and Flavia Z Drago, not unlike Gustavo playing the violin, seems to reach out to us, the reader, by sharing her passion for illustration, storytelling and monsters, uncovering some of our deepest fears and longings with this very universal story.

I’m Sticking with You, illustrated by Steve Small and written by Smriti Halls is a character driven story, exploring friendship and the push and pull we can sometimes experience within relationships, especially with those people that are so very different to ourselves.

Bear and squirrel are very loveable characters, and Steve Small has allowed himself to zoom in on them, using only minimal background elements and props to nudge the story along, on otherwise crisp, white pages. The disparity between text and image is where the story is told and where the deadpan humour lays. The timing, scale and body language of the characters are always spot on, adding to the comedy and betraying Steve Small’s background in animation. There is a lovely twist in the book, emphasised by using a black background, and a change of direction to where the characters are going. Here we finally get to see and read the perspective of squirrel, who, after announcing he needs more space, actually misses his overBEARing friend a lot. An almost empty page shows his sudden understanding, and creates a very effective pause before he rushes back and we near the end of this story.

Looking at all these shortlisted books and seeing the different ways in which they excel and exemplify what illustration can do, reassures me that there are so many ways to tell a story, and so many stories to tell still. But also just how important it is to cultivate your own, unique (visual) storytelling voice as a picture book maker. The essence of the stories might not be new in any way - but the ways they are told feel original and personal, and give the reader the possibility to connect with the story, ideas and characters. I can’t wait to see what Steve Small, Flavia Z Drago, Charlotte Ager, John Broadly and Rachel Stubbs have in store for us in the future.

Find out more about the Klaus Flugge Prize on the website.

Do check out the picture gallery below showing:
Cover illustration and spreads for My Red Hat
Cover illustration and spreads for While You Are Sleeping
Cover illustration and spreads for Gustavo the Ghost
Cover illustration and spreads for I'm Sticking with You
Photograph of Eva Eland, copyright Signefotar

A big thank you to Eva Eland for a fantastic blog overview and to the Klaus Flugge Prize for the opportunity.

We are delighted to welcome Laura Mucha to the blog.  Laura is an ex-lawyer turned award-winning poet, writer and advocate for children.  Laura's debut poetry collection, Dear Ugly Sisters, was named as one of the Independent's top ten poetry books for children.  Rita's Rabbit is her first picturebook.  Here Laura reflects on parenthood in and outside of books.

As a child it was hard not to compare myself to people with two parents – EVERYONE else seemed to have them. It wasn't just the people around me, it was the adverts, books, films, TV programs, French classes where, for years, we were asked to describe what our mother and father did. (I lied. Not least because my French wasn’t good enough age 11 to say “Actually I haven’t met my father, so I cannot confirm what his current profession is – or if he is even alive. But I can tell you about my grandfather, who I call Dad?”)

It made me feel like an outsider, inferior, shameful. While that undoubtedly helped me develop empathy for others, it could also be uncomfortable and sad.

I remember one of my teachers telling the entire class that single parent families were inferior to those with two – hers is a common view. But it’s not backed up by evidence. While single parents can fare worse than double parent families, when you account for the impact of poverty, this difference dwindles[1]. Given single parents are far more likely to be poor[2], it’s unsurprising we conflate the two.

In fact, staying single can be a hugely positive choice. I interviewed a father from Sri Lanka who decided to stay single after his wife died in her 40s, leaving him with three children under twelve. “I could have settled with somebody,” Kumar explained, ”but I needed to do something for my children: I had to show fatherly and motherly love because they wouldn’t know their mother’s love. Love contributes a lot in life… it’s what you take on board to your future.”[3]

Swathes of research across multiple disciplines show Kumar was right – it is love that we take with us. And sometimes choosing to stay single is the best way to ensure that children feel that love. In some circumstances, children in step-families are psychologically worse off than children with single parents[4]. And in the Harvard Bereavement Study (which followed parents and children for years following their loss), children whose parents dated in the first year after losing their partner had more emotional or behavioural problems (among other difficulties) than those whose parents stayed single.

So why, then, is single parenthood, or any deviation from the two parent family stigmatised? Why don’t we see single parents more frequently and, crucially, more positively in children’s literature? It’s easier to understand why writers like Judith Kerr featured families with two parents and two children because of the time in which she was writing. But surely we are wiser now?

Maybe not.

As far as I’m aware, there’s no research exploring whether children see their family situation reflected in the books they read. But in 2020, 58,346 children and young people were asked by the National Literacy Trust whether they saw themselves in the books they read. 37.3% of those that received free school meals didn’t. (The number was slightly lower for those who do pay for meals, at 31.9%.)[5]

I’m not surprised. Taking picture books as an example – whenever they include any sort of caregiver, there are two parents, usually white and living in a house with a garden. Yet this doesn’t represent 20% of people in England who live in flats (more likely to be those from ethnic minorities and/or living in poverty)[6], and 14.7% of single parent families in the UK[7].

Given single parent families are significantly more likely to live in poverty[8] and poverty is linked with lower levels of literacy[9], children in these households are precisely the demographic that we need to support. Surely being able to see themselves in the books they’re reading is fundamental to that?

So, as well as ranting in blogposts, I make a point of writing about growing-up in non-traditional family structures. Sometimes that means being explicit and exploring what that felt like as a child (as in my poem, Everyone_[10]), sometimes it means depicting everyday scenes where a mother and/or father aren’t part of the household. In Rita’s Rabbit, for example, the two main (human) characters are Rita and her grandfather.

But when I shared Rita’s Rabbit with a number of brilliant and intelligent people, their feedback was, “Isn’t it weird that her parents aren’t there? What, are they on holiday?”

No. Not everyone grows up with two parents. Some only have one. Some have two but one is highly abusive and it’s not safe to stay in touch. Some have none and live with family members. Some live in foster care or institutions.

We know this. We have robust stats that show this represents a significant percentage of children – both here and around the world. And yet, how often do these children see the two parent family portrayed as the norm, to which they and everyone should aspire? How often do they compare themselves to this norm and find themselves lacking?

In our last bog post of the year we are delighted to welcome author and illustrator Phoebe Swan to the blog.  Phoebe has a BA in Illustration from Camberwell College of Art and an MA in Children’s Book Illustration from Cambridge School of Art.  Phoebe’s first book, King Leonard’s Teddy was published by Child’s Play and has been shortlisted for the Little Rebel Awards, the Cogan Biodiversity Award and the Teach Early Years Award.  To find out more about Phoebe, visit her website here.

King Leonard's Teddy was shortlisted for the Little Rebels Award. Can you tell us what is rebellious about the book and what being shortlisted meant for you?

I was so honoured to be recognised by Little Rebels Award because it celebrates books that handle big ideas. As a previous winner of the award Viviane Schwarz said; “Picture books are not just for putting tiny children to sleep, they are also for waking them up!” This is not always an easy thing to do within a limited number of words and pages, whilst also holding the attention and engagement of young kid. The big ideas explored King Leonard’s Teddy are about repairing and reusing, and valuing what we have instead of continuing the cycle of mass consumerism. Being shortlisted was a recognition that I had succeeded in making a story that could not only entertain young children, but also introduce them to these concepts

Can you tell us about how you wrote the story and made the pictures?

I first wrote the story after coming across a ‘Toy Hospital’ while on holiday in Lisbon. I wanted to make a book that tackled the issue of how humans overuse the planet’s finite resources. The attachment and care with which children look after a beloved toy seemed a good way in to talking about how perhaps we should be applying that care to more of the things that we discard so easily. I did a lot of drawing on that trip and I based Leonard’s castle on a drawing of one of the castles of Sintra, a town in the hills just outside Lisbon. In the book, I replaced the hill with the pile of rubbish. As Annie Leonard in The Story of Stuff says; “There is no such thing as ‘away’. When we throw anything away, it must go somewhere.” The pile of trash surrounding Leonard’s castle helps us to visualise what the accumulation of all that stuff would look like. Small actions such as repairing an object instead of buying a new one might not seem like they will make much difference to the environmental crisis the world is facing, but the small actions of a lot of people do add up to a big impact, so ultimately the message of the book is a hopeful one.

The pictures were made with a mixture of lino print and digital editing in photoshop. Lino printing involves carving out an image from a soft plastic and printing the block, to achieve multiple colours you need to layer up the prints with each colour. Because there was more detail and colour in this book than I could print by hand, I scanned in lino-print texture and then ‘carved’ out the images in different layers of colour on photoshop.

Who will enjoy reading this book?

It is a picture book that works on different levels. Children from around 18 months and their parents can relate to the universal story of an irreplaceable favourite toy. The main character being a king makes his over-the-top behaviour, like throwing things out the window funnier than if it was a child character, but his despair when his teddy breaks makes him endearing to children who will instinctively understand the significance of the event. Children from around age 3-7 will begin to grasp the environmental message and early years and key stage one teachers will be able to use the story, and the page of ideas and activities at the back, as a starting point for topics on recycling, reusing and repairing. There are also more activities and resources on Child’s Play’s website, http://www.childs-play.com/parent-zone/king_leonard_activities.html and I’m always happy for teachers or librarians to get in touch, I’ve worked as an early years/primary teacher in the past so I have plenty of activities up my sleeve!

What can we expect next from you?

I’m working on a second book with Child’s Play called The Welcome Blanket. Unlike King Leonard which was set in a fantasy world, it is very much inspired by my everyday surroundings and much of it has been drawn from observation in culturally diverse area of London in which I grew up and still live in. It celebrates themes of friendship, cooperation and diversity. You can follow me on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/phoebe.swan/ to look out for updates about that coming soon!

Big thanks to Phoebe Swan for the interview and for so generously sharing her gallery of images, showcasing her work, illustration techniques and books.  We look forward to the publication of The Welcome Blanket.