Puffin Book of Classic Stories for Boys

Paro Anand

Informations

• Publié par: Penguin Books Ltd
• Date de parution: 11 juin 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9788184752649
• Langue: English

Extrait

Pick up an alien’s egg; go crocodile hunting; run with a gang of pickpockets; get lost in a magical maze. All this and more in these stories of adventure, humour and imagination.
Oliver Twist leaves behind his gang of criminals for a better life; an open window is just what a fertile mind needs in Saki’s ‘The Open Window’; Satyajit Ray’s Badan Babu has a brush with a Pterodactyl’s egg; Rabindranath Tagore recollects boyhood days spent dreaming in an abandoned palanquin; and Sherlock Holmes sets off to solve the mystery of the engineer’s thumb.
Featuring the works of such renowned authors as Charles Dickens, Louisa May Alcott, Premchand, Mark Twain and others, and a lively introduction by well-known children’s author Paro Anand, The Puffin Book of Classic Stories for Boys is a matchless collection from the masters of world literature for boys of all ages.


S ATYAJIT R AY
W ILLIAM W YMAN J ACOBS
M UNSHI P REMCHAND
S AKI
L OUISA M AY A LCOTT
R ABINDRANATH T AGORE
A RTHUR C ONAN D OYLE
C HARLES D ICKENS
D EVAKINANDAN K HATRI
M ARK T WAIN
Timeless stories for boys, and those who remain boys at heart.
Cover design by Ajanta Guhathakurta
The Puffin Book of Classic Stories for Boys
Introduction by PARO ANAND
Contents
Introduction
1. The Pterodactyl’s Egg Satyajit Ray
2. The Monkey’s Paw William Wymark Jacobs
3. Big Brother Munshi Premchand
4. The Open Window Saki
5. Little Men Louisa May Alcott
6. Boyhood Days Rabindranath Tagore
7. The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb Arthur Conan Doyle
8. Oliver Twist Charles Dickens
9. Chandrakanta Devaki Nandan Khatri
10. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
Notes on Authors
Copyright Acknowledgements
Copyright
Introduction
The question at the very beginning is, ‘Do boys really require a separate book of stories written just for them?’ In my experience of working with children, including boys, the answer would have to be, ‘Yes.’
Stories for girls abound—whether it is Nancy Drew, the Princess Diaries or the more recent Twilight series. Boys would hardly read these; at least they wouldn’t be caught dead reading them; and those that do are teased to death about it. On the other hand, girls will often read and enjoy ‘boy’ books like Biggles or Percy Jackson. The Australian writer Michael Panckeridge has written a series of science fiction combined with sports stories—for ‘reluctant readers, especially boys’. The books have been best-sellers, which goes to show that boys are not that reluctant if they’re given the right kind of writing—the kind of stories they want to read. The point I think is finally proven by the fact that the marketing pundits of the Bloomsbury publishing house persuaded Harry Potter’s creator to go by the gender-neutral name of J.K. Rowling rather than Joanne as she had put in earlier! This was because it was felt that boys wouldn’t read a book by a woman even though the protagonist is a boy.
Does that mean that only men can write boy stories? No, apparently not, for interestingly, in this collection of ten stories, exactly half of them are by women!
So what makes a good ‘boy’ story? First of all, the protagonist. It has to be a male protagonist, no doubt. I’ve yet to read an out-and-out boy story with a girl at its heart. There are other preferred, if not obligatory, ingredients like action, humour, rambunctiousness and spookiness that add flavour. A dash of irreverence to spice it up is nice too. Having said that, it’s certainly not formula writing. It is not as though you follow a set pattern and have a great story for boys, as the stories in this collection prove. Each one is for boys, yet each has a distinct subject, style and flavour.
There’s the spookily strange ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ by William Wymark Jacobs, that’s old-fashioned in its descriptive style, yet would keep today’s child engaged and, yes, left with a sense of foreboding horror about what can happen if you try and subvert fate. Another weirdly dark humour story is Saki’s ‘The Open Window’ that leads into the darkness through such a bright device as an open window on a sunny, summer day. The twist in the tale is unpredictable and leaves you grinning, but also with a chill.
One of my all-time favourite books is Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. Thankfully the extract here is not the overused one of Huck painting the fence, but a more adventurous one of him escaping from his pap. The reader hides in the trailing greenery with Huck as he watches with gleeful amusement the village folk trying to dredge up his body.
As an Indian author myself, I’m especially glad that there are some Indian writers included in this anthology. An absolutely wonderful piece is master craftsman Munshi Premchand’s ‘Big Brother’ (affectionately referred to as Big B—little would Premchand have known that another Big B would loom on the scene many years later). The situation of a big brother who tries to be responsible and set a good example for his younger sibling and all the mishaps that follow this are written with such a light touch that today’s young boy would not only fall off his chair laughing, but would also empathize completely with the story. I think he would be amazed to know that the author passed away in 1936.
I’d like to specially mention the women writers in this collection. Interestingly, Deepa Agarwal, the translator of Chandrakanta has also written a book called Not Just Girls (Rupa) that is a collection of stories about girls; as the title suggests, boys can read it too. Here in her retelling of Devaki Nandan Khatri’s Hindi classic Chandrakanta she sets up a scenario of palace intrigue, treachery and trickery. Louisa May Alcott’s Little Men was probably not as well read as Little Women, but who knows, maybe some boys will be inspired enough to go back and read the whole novel. This would be truly wonderful, in fact, if boys— reluctant readers or otherwise—would be sufficiently intrigued by the extracts from novels to read the originals too.
All in all, this is a wonderful book to gift a boy and open a host of new horizons for him.
June 2010
Paro Anand
1 The Pterodactyl’s Egg

Satyajit Ray
Badan Babu had stopped going to Curzon Park after work. He used to enjoy his daily visits to the park. Every evening he would go straight from his office and spend about an hour, just resting quietly on a bench, beside the statue of Suren Banerjee. Then, when the crowds in the trams grew marginally thinner, he would catch one back to his house in Shibthakur Lane.
Now new tram lines had been laid inside the park. The noise of the traffic had ruined the atmosphere totally. There was no point in trying to catch a few quiet moments here. Yet, it was impossible to go back home straight after office, packed into a bus like sardines in a tin.
Besides, Badan Babu simply had to find some time every day to try and enjoy the little natural beauty that was left in the city. He might be no more than an ordinary clerk, but God had given him a lively imagination. He had thought of so many different stories sitting on that bench in Curzon Park. But there had never been time to write them down. Had he, indeed, managed to find the time, no doubt he would have made quite a name for himself.
However, not all his efforts had been wasted.
His seven-year-old son, Biltu, was an invalid. Since he was incapable of moving around, most of his time was spent listening to stories. Both his parents told him stories of all kinds—fairy tales, folk tales, funny tales and spooky tales, tales they had heard and tales they had read. In the last three years, he had been told at least a thousand stories. Badan Babu had lately been making up stories himself for his son. He usually did this sitting in Curzon Park.
Over the last few weeks, however, Biltu had made it plain that he no longer enjoyed all his stories. One look at Biltu’s face was enough to see that he was disappointed.
This did not surprise Badan Babu very much. It was not possible to think up a good plot during the day; this time was spent doing his work in the office. And now that the peace of Curzon Park had been shattered, his only chance of sitting there in the evening and doing a bit of thinking was lost forever.
He tried going to Lal Deeghi a few times. Even that did not work. The huge, monstrous communications building next to the Deeghi blocked a large portion of the sky. Badan Babu felt suffocated there.
After that even the park near Lal Deeghi was invaded by tram lines and Badan Babu was forced to look for a different spot.
Today, he had come to the riverside.
After walking along the iron railings for about a quarter of a mile on the southern side of Outram Ghat, he found an empty bench.
There was Fort William, not far away. In fact, he could see the cannon. The cannonball stood fixed at the end of an iron rod, almost like a giant lollipop.
Badan Babu recalled his schooldays. The cannon went off every day at 1 p.m., the boys came rushing out for their lunch break and the headmaster, Harinath Babu, took out his pocket watch religiously and checked the time.
The place was quiet, though not exactly deserted. A number of boats were tied nearby and one could see the boatmen talking among themselves. A grey Japanese ship was anchored in the distance. Further down, towards Kidderpore, the skyline was crowded with masts of ships and pulleys.
This was a pleasant place.
Badan Babu sat down on the bench.
Through the smoke from the steamers he could see a bright spot in the sky. Could it be Venus?
It seemed to Badan Babu that he had not seen such a wide expanse of sky for a long time. Oh, how huge it was, how colossal! This was just what he needed for his imagination to soar.
Badan Babu took off his canvas shoes and sat cross-legged on the bench.
He was going to make up for lost time and find new plots for a number of stories today. He could see Biltu’s face—happy and excited!
‘Namaskar.’
Oh no! Was he going to be dis