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The Wonderful Adventures of Nils is written about as a children's book, and in essence it is. Nils is a young mischief-making boy who likes to pick on animals until he is transformed into miniature by an imp. After learning a little humility, Nils goes on to ride with a crew of geese across Sweden, and has many adventures with crows, foxes, ducks, a cow, a dog and other animals, and even some mythical beings and places.

But deeper than this, Lagerlöf has written an environmental call to action that is 100 years ahead of its time. Nils learns to love his world and those in it by becoming part of it. His transformation is gradual but complete, made richer by the wonderful prose and incredible descriptions of Sweden from a goose-eye-view (Lagerlöf must have hired a hot air balloon for research, surely). Myth and story blend with compassion, humour and empathy in short chapters, so many that are wonderful even taken alone. An unforgettable book, for children of mind or body.

I don't actually know how to review this obscure TH White novel. It needs three considerations, which I'll divide up below.

First, the novel centres on "Mr White", an English gentleman living in rural Ireland in the 1940s. White himself moved to Ireland as a conscientious objector to WWII, and lived there for some years. In the story, the archangel Michael appears and instructs White and his two Irish hosts to build an ark as a second flood is coming. The story follows the building of the ark, including some interesting pragmatic considerations (what to leave behind, how much food, etc). There is undoubtedly a lot of thinly veiled autobiography in the story, even if it is a satire.

The second consideration is how Irish people are treated by an English writer. Even as a satire, the stereotypes of lazy, violent and stupid rural people are rolled out liberally. While sometimes sympathetic, and often also self-critical of the foolishness of the Englishman who thinks he is superior, the delivery is still offensive (I am Irish, and have encountered this type of stereotyping in my life, and it does sting). I couldn't help think that if this was written about another British colony, like Kenya, the text would be abhorrent.

Third, and this deserves consideration, it is a well-written, sympathetic and funny book in the vein of Evelyn Waugh or Flann O'Brien. White takes aim at Catholic Ireland brilliantly, and really lands his punches (the book was even banned for blasphemy by the church in Ireland on publication). It is joyful and thoughtful, and a very well written satire, when the paddy-whackery is not prominent.

These fragmented thoughts are not independent of one another. I fought through offence and read this as an interesting historical document, a record of embedded eugenics that White grew up with, as well as of power systems emerging at a specific moment in a newly independent Ireland, viewed from an "outside" perspective. But the complexity of this makes it hard to say whether I liked the novel, or could recommend it.

There are so many things that amazed me about this book, from the intricacy of the characters to the extraordinary storytelling, to the intense depth of the research. But most of all, I was amazed that I had never heard of it or of the Atlanta child murders. Both the book and the murders seem so central to modern Black American history that their invisibility (or erasure) seem deeply poignant.

It took me nine months to read. It is a long book, but it also needed space to read, digest, and understand. Ostensibly, it is a book about a mother looking for her child who has disappeared during the spate of murders of Black children in Atlanta from 1979-81. Zala, the protagonist, becomes an active community member, joining up with other parents of disappeared young Black children who try every avenue possible to find their children. It tells the story of the Atlanta child murders from a Black perspective, but this is also a foil for a deeper story that depicts the trauma of Blackness and the implicit violence of white America, the dysfunction and negligence of state police, the emotional experience of the families of the disappeared, the paranoia of loss, and how people live their lives within all of this maelstrom. It creates lived experience, not metaphor, and for that it is exceptional.

Toni Cade Bambera has their own unique voice, reminiscent of another generation of writers; Tolstoy sprang to mind several times while reading, for the depth of character and interlinked events, but Cade Bambera has a soft touch that is magical. It is a rare skill for a writer to empathise with grief in such a beautiful way.

Those Bones Are Not My Child is definitely one of the 'Great American Novels', although it is never mentioned in lists of that canon. In fact, I've read many of the novels that are in these lists, and they are not in the same league, and its lack of visibility is telling.

In the end, for all its other merits in highlighting Black womens' experience in a violent place, what will stay with me is the strength of community togetherness and family, and how people learn to carry on together even in the worst situations. Despite the difficult subject, the hope is welcome.