Janet Marjorie Mark (1943-2006) was a British children's author and two time winner of the Carnegie Medal. She also taught art and English in Gravesend, Kent, was part of the faculty of Education at Oxford Polytechnic in the early 1980s and was a tutor and mentor to other writers before her death from meningitis-related septicaemia.
We moved to Canada from Germany in 1976 (when I was ten), and I remember that in 1977 I came across Jan Mark's 1976 Carnegie Medal winning middle grade novel Thunder and Lightnings at my elementary school library in Calgary, Alberta. However, even though one of my teachers warmly recommended Thunder and Lightnings to me, I decided to not sign Thunder and Lightnings out to read since both the book cover image (of two boys and some airplanes in the distance) and especially the summary on the back of the book were so very specifically pointing out that thematically and content wise Thunder and Lightnings supposedly would primarily be about boys and airplanes that I definitely was not at all interested as an eleven year old girl (for while I actually had no issues with reading a story featuring two boys, the prospect of reading with Thunder and Lightnings an entire account even if fictional about airplanes, well, that did not textually suit me at all).
But really and in retrospect majorly frustratingly, both the book cover and the synopsis for Thunder and Lightnings are in my humble opinion (and after having read Thunder and Lightnings in 2023 as part of a Carnegie Medal winner projecat) more than a trifle and in fact hugely and infuriatingly misleading. As no, I as a reader (and both my adult self and also even more so my eleven year old inner chid strongly agree here) absolutely do not think that airplanes are in any manner the main and primary theme for Thunder and Lightnings (albeit that they, that airplanes are definitely an interesting and intriguing narrative tool used by Jan Mark, used by the author to move along her story, to create an initial bond between main protagonist Andrew and schoolmate/loner Victor and to also provide rich descriptive and local Norfolk detail) but rather that first and foremost Thunder and Lightnings is about moving to a new house and to a new school, adjusting to life in a small and gossipy village, family relationships, friendship and above all embracing and adapting to the inevitable and generally large scale changes life always brings and delivers.
And yes, this (the above) should have been (should be) prominently featured on both the cover image for Thunder and Lightnings and even more so in the brief content summary for the book. Because yes indeed, as an eleven year old recently immigrated to Canada and not handling change, friendships etc. AT ALL WELL, Thunder and Lightnings and in particular that Jan Mark presents her story regarding Andrew and Victor's friendship and how they both have to learn how to deal with changes in a productive and positive manner so feelingly and empathetically, this truly and definitely would have been appreciated and even necessary bibliotherapy for eleven year old me (and I do kind of resent not reading Thunder and Lightnings in 1977 and simply because from looking at the cover image and reading the synopsis I thought that the author, that Jan Mark would only be featuring airplanes, airplanes and more airplanes). So to be entirely truthful, while my 2023 reading experience with Thunder and Lightnings has been textually magical and wonderful (and I totally celebrate Jan Mark winning the Carnegie Medal for Thunder and Lightnings, that I also highly recommend this story and that potential readers really do not in any way need to fear the airplanes angle as being one-sided and tedious for Thunder and Lightnings), I will also move my final star rating from five to four stars, as that book cover and that airplane specific content outline are in my opinion rather problematic and did certainly keep me away from even considering trying Thunder and Lightnings when I was the intended audience and could really have benefitted from a perusal of this particular story.
‘I wonder if that was the last Lightning of all,’ said Andrew. ‘Well, if that wasn’t, that ought to have been. What a way to go out, eh?’
Chapter 17
This is a tale of oddballs, obsessions and, to some extent, opposites. It is also a well observed sketch of friendship, of the inevitability of change, and of being comfortable with being who you are.
Two schoolboys in 1980s Norfolk are thrown together with nothing to suggest they have anything in common except being outsiders in their school, Andrew whose family are incomers and Victor who would be possibly be identified now as having learning difficulties.
And yet there is more to either than appears on the surface, and they will have more in common than their social backgrounds and familial aspirations would suggest, bonded at first by Victor’s obsession with English Electric Lightning warplanes and then by a comfortable companionship. And yet that easy companionship may be tested by matters outside their control.
Jan Mark’s debut novel, honed by writing short stories, has an assurance which instantly engages as we meet the bright middle-class Andrew whose father’s job takes his laid-back family to a more rural location, and Victor who, playing up to a reputation for being academically backward at school, is patently dyslexic and would probably be diagnosed today as on the autism spectrum. Being close neighbours in the village means that, when the summer holidays arrive, they spend time together, and Thunder and Lightnings is mostly an account of those few weeks when a friendship is established, only to be threatened by an immanent change.
That change comes about when it becomes clear that the objects of Victor’s passion, the magnificent arrowhead jets that roar across the Norfolk landscape from a nearby RAF airfield, may be withdrawn from service. Their regular bike rides to observe take-offs and landings are now threatened, and also the familiarity they have built up involving a younger brother, shopping trips, and hamsters.
The way the author subtly maintains a mix of technical aircraft terms, contrast between the two families, the distinctive Norfolk dialect, the minutiae of daily life, and the unspoken nuances of the boys’ conversations — all credibly held in balance — is impressive. I admit my eyes were slightly damp by the last page in recognition of the kind of easy companionship I’d always longed for as a schoolboy myself but never achieved.
For that alone I appreciate my finally coming round to this story if it wasn’t also for the enthusiasm Victor displayed and the sensitive reflections Andrew has on what has been said or done. The reputation that preceded Thunder and Lightnings whenever this was recommended to me is thoroughly well deserved.
The decision to re-read this, one of my absolute favourite children's books was no more than a whim arising out of spotting it on my bookshelves while I was looking for something else. I'm glad I did for I was reminded just what a special book it is. My love of it is based partly on the fact that it reflects my own childhood in rural Norfolk in the 1970s. It was Jan Mark's first book, written, I believe, in response to a competition in the Guardian newspaper. It won the competition and also won that year's Carnegie Medal. The story is perfectly timed and beautifully observed, but what strikes the reader most is the author's ear for dialogue. She not only captures the Norfolk accent and speech pattern in print (not easy), but effortlessly reflects the love, sadness and humour of everyday family conversations. This was to prove a winning asset in all the marvellous books that followed the success of Thunder and Lightnings. I'd remembered all that, but what I'd forgotten was how much the book reflects on death and the passing of time and things, as well as glorying in the joy of the here and now. A simple, but rich and beautiful book.
I read this as a kid. I would have been 12/13yrs old at the time (i'm 38 now) and related to this as I was always fascinated by the English Electric Lightning's that flew from nearby RAF Leconfield and RAF Binbrook.
I would like to read this again some time for the sake of nostalgia.
Andrew moves to a new place with his spontaneous, easy-going family. He soon meets Victor, and his first impression is of a kid who is a bit off, a poor student, a ne'er-do-well. It doesn't take long for Andrew to discover that Victor knows everything there is to know about military aircraft, and Victor's love for planes soon infects Andrew, too.
Andrew and Andrew's family, Victor and Victor's family---all of these are fascinating people that you will want to meet. Victor rattles on and on about planes, and it was way more than I wanted to know about them, but that seems oddly appropriate.
A blast from the past reading this to my two children over the past ten days. A nicely written book about a boy moving to a new area and making friends with a local boy who loves planes.
So, maybe that's not the blurb the publishers would go for, but it does the job. The book amused my two with references to children drinking coffee, which they found bizarre, and enthralled them with the idea of long bike rides with a friend to explore the area and watch fighter jets.
A lovely children's story about friendship, life and situations moving on and how we grow as people. Andrew has recently moved to a new house, at school he meets this "odd" boy, Victor whom no one else really likes or notices, considered slow he is just a loner until he becomes friends with Andrew who notices hidden depths and a wealth of knowledge that others don't delve deeply enough to find out. Originally written in the 70s where distinctions were not so readily made Victor is just dull and slow witted whereas today within the novel I see hints of dyslexia where they mention the words jumping and the mistakes he makes when writing and maybe autism which would explain Victor's quirks and behaviour, the incredible fixation he has with certain things, aeroplanes and anything associated with them and yet although displaying a lack of ability and at times a willingness to learn he has this incredible depth of knowledge about his subject which may even hint at Aspergers. Thematically the story resonates with me, Victor's distress as the world moves on and is "changing" and just the way he is and overall is just a sweet and charming tale from a time when friendship meant something irrespective of differences.
I originally read this as a boy of (I’m guessing) 9 and the elements I “remember” were not present, which in itself is interesting to me - I guess I just embroidered the meaning a bit. Anyhow, its still a good story and focuses on the main characters accepting and handling change (which was not something I suppose I picked up on as a boy), telling this story through their reactions to moving house and changes to the local aircraft. This edition has some interesting facts about the author, how the book was written and the time the book was written as well as a reproduction of an article from the Puffin newsletter of the time by the author, which is a nice addition all around.
This book, for me, was a trip back in time to my boyhood and therefore cheap at the price :)
Every year around these parts, there are a few rather beloved GIANT USED BOOKSALES. One in particular happens at the Elora Curling Club. I realized this year, when one of the sweet elderly women who volunteers at the cash-out asked, "How did you hear about the sale?" that I may have been attending for a good 15 years. Which feels absurd. But these small-town gems are the things that make adventuring out of the "big city" absolutely worthwhile.
Anyways, this year, with between-semester free time on my hands and the inability to say no to a good deal, I returned a second time on the last day of the sale. Things were understandably much more picked over and barren than the mad-dash elbowing crunch of the first day of the sale. But that also meant I could make my way to a few of the quieter corners of the place, partially to try and find that magical book, the one that you spy misfiled in the wrong section, hidden away waiting for just you.
Instead, I went through the Children's books. On the Friday, it was a mass of mothers with various children grabbing hold of arms, legs, dangling from shoulders, you know the scene. This day I had the section mostly to myself.
In the summertime, I like to visit books from my youth, especially the kind of books I've totally forgotten, that only the strange hazing familiarity of a cover might uncover (and along with it the memories of some lost summer adventures).
To my delight, I stumbled on this here. When I was a kid, we were regulars at our local library, and beyond just books, our family made regular use of audiobooks, frequently on cassette. Several of our extended family lived in Montreal (where my family lives now), and summertime frequently had us wandering along that dreaded 401 to all points east (and west back again). My memory recalls the season of having a cassette player resting on the center console so we could all listen in (for some reason our car didn't have one, or perhaps it didn't work).
This was one of my very favourites. I recall it so well that even reading the book now, I could hear the dulcet tones and intonations of Andy Crane, who gave the book a wonderful life. I could hear his added inflections and characterization positively bringing this to life. So, at least one of the stars goes to him, even though he was not technically present in this current read-through.
It's lovely to reread a book from your childhood and have that objectivity of adulthood, able to identify so much that clearly resonated with lil' Joel, that I didn't have the faintest capacity to identify.
What makes this book so rich, beyond its loving world-building and characterization, is how it really captures the essence of being a young kid. Full of wonder, full of the strange capacity to become obsessed with areas of interest, and also having that profound feeling like you cannot fit into society, or the structure of school, education and even at times family.
I so see myself, or parts of myself, in Victor, his decision to wrap himself in layers of clothing and the pretense of being dumb, all to evade the voices of authority that would tell him who he needs to be, what he is supposed to do.
In a lot of ways, it's a book underpinned by a kind of melancholy, not in a way that feels dreary or dark, but in a way that really subtly reveals so much about the challenges of growing up and finding your place.
It also helps that it explores the challenges of fitting in and how useless school can feel for a young person, but also takes us deep into the wandering wonder of a summer holiday. This is, for us kids in school, a kind of sacred eternity away from the demands and structures of the school year.
I think for me, too, my father used to be a navigator, flying in airplanes long before I was born. He had a brief but mythical stint in military college, and I grew up admiring a model airplane that would hang (still does) in his office. He flew "Voodoos," another fantastical name for a flying mechanism that seemed otherworldly. So in a strange way, I think I felt connected to my dad in reading this, even though we couldn't be more different in many ways.
Nestled in the book, too, are explorations on loss, the changing of times, how history forgets itself, or can be so selective about what, and how, it chooses to remember. It's profound, it's beautiful.
It's certainly difficult to appraise the book separate from my love of it, I was delighted to be a kid again rereading it. I think it brilliantly holds up, at least for me, and I resonated again with its perspective, its insight into youth and the fixations of hobbies to the young mind.
I'm certainly interested in reading more of Jan's books, seeing if there's more to find and enjoy.
Until then, I'm looking at heading to a nearby Airpark Cafe for breakfast and a view of the runway.
This really is excellent and as Stephanie Nettell points out in the new afterword to this edition, its quality can't easily be attributed to the standard things we associate with a good story. Not a huge amount happens. There are no heroes and villains. And yet the setting is evocative, the characters are all well drawn (even the minor ones) and the dialogue is frequently witty yet plausible. A boy moving to a village and finding a slightly unlikely friend through their interest in a nearby airfield doesn't sound like much but Mark does a lot with it. I strongly recommend this.
A book I loved as a kid as I loved the English Electric Lightning. It is a boy's tale, I think. It concerns a young lad who moves to the Norfolk countryside, where though unhappy at first, he falls in with a fellow lonesome kid named VIctor. It is then that he is introduced to the beautiful silver birds that reside nearby at the RAF base. Then the adventure begins in a joint effort to 'save' the Lightning. Great book.
This was cute! It was a little difficult for me to understand the cultural references. Had me smiling at times, reading about the friendship between the 2 boys, their love for planes, their life in the countryside. It was a good one ✈️
Enjoyable enough story for children (boys?) about Andrew & Victor, who form an unlikely friendship over the flat fields & wet broads of Norfolk where, now obsolete, R.A.F. planes flashing by overhead are the most exciting subject for boys with time on their hands...after pea vining & fish art!! The delineation of the individual relationships between the characters is well-done & although nothing very much happens (no wizards, flying dragons or talking owls!) much of the simple innocence of the pre-computer age is captured in this 1976 Puffin, bought for 10p.at a charity shop.(The illustrations by Jim Russell are timeless!)
This story for readers of 9-12 contains no wizards, shape-shifters, spies, dystopia, zombies or vampires (even of the aircraft sort!). There's very little action, no moments of life-or-death peril or one-word sentences.
However, there are characters I cared about, and plenty of realism, feeling and insight about what it's like to be a 12 year old at a new school, or to be the class oddball. On top, some lovely observational humour.
I'm not sure if children today still read books like this, but they ought to!