I sometimes wonder what is more difficult; creating a fantasy world and making it feel real, or writing about reality and making it believable.
Jacqueline Wilson is sort of passing out of the public spotlight (I have a hard time finding her in bookshops, anyway) and that makes me sad, frankly, since she’s such a stellar addition to the world of YA and children’s literature. You read her writing and it is one of those rare, beautiful and slightly shocking instances where you forget that you’re reading a work of fiction. It feels real, unprocessed and unvarnished.
She’s got a knack, that’s what it is, a critically acclaimed knack. You read the stories her characters are telling you and it’s not the words of an adult writer that enter your consciousness but the words of the characters themselves, whether they’re fifteen or nine, rowdy or introverted, or whatever wonderfully written hell they’re going through. Continue reading