Children's book worthy winner of literary honours

A book for children has scooped a Whitbread literary award

A book for children has scooped a Whitbread literary award.Eileen Battersby celebrates the timely acknowledgment of a neglected genre

It seemed certain that this year's Whitbread Literary Awards were destined to be remembered only for their obscure selections and celebrity judges. In previous years, the Whitbread had compensated for Booker shortcomings. This time it seemed intent on defying logic, never mind critical opinion.

Yet some credibility was salvaged by the announcement that not only had Oxford-based Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass taken the Children's Fiction category, it had also won the overall Whitbread Book of the Year.

It is the first time a children's book has done so, although Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban had been hyped to take the 1999 Whitbread Book of the Year and rightly failed, bowing instead to Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf.

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Pullman's victory however should not be seen as a token gesture to children's fiction. True, his fantasy realism was simply the most compelling book in an undistinguished Whitbread field. Still this is no empty win. The Amber Spyglass is a serious, philosophical work as well as an intelligent, daring feat of sustained storytelling combining fantasy and science fiction with metaphysics and some theology. Above all, it is a worthy winner able to stand alongside other literary genres.

On winning the prize, Pullman emulates previous overall winners such as Heaney, Ted Hughes, William Trevor and Kazuo Ishiguro. Most importantly, he reiterates the claims of generations of fine writers who have chosen to write for those most imaginatively receptive, discerning and demanding of readers, children.

It is a glorious tradition, including originals such as Lewis Carroll and the dark genius of his Alice books; Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows; the quasi spiritual Narnia stories of C.S. Lewis and of course the towering majesty of J.R.R. Tolkien's profound epic, The Lord of the Rings.

Although Pullman (54), a long time teacher, expressed his surprise and delight at winning, there was also an element of righteousness audible on Monday night in his moment of triumph. He is well aware serious children's writers have for too long been marginalised. The phenomenal commercial success of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series has been far less radically liberating for children's literature than might be assumed.

The Amber Spyglass, the final volume in Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, is a highly, unhyped, sophisticated novel possessing vision and gravitas. Far closer to the great Tolkien than to J.K. Rowling, it is multi-layered and explores an alternative universe and vivid landscapes.

Milton's Paradise Lost is one of its source texts. There are also echoes of Blake, the Bible, Emily Dickinson and, as expected, the master, Tolkien. Pullman's trilogy does not challenge The Lord of the Rings, yet it certainly does point to the impact Middle Earth has had on the fantasy genre, an impact that has proved both inspiring and inhibiting.

Much of the appeal of The Amber Spyglass lies in the textured characterisation which is fantastical including talking bears and gay angels and also more conventional as is the feisty heroine, Lyra. Pullman draws on the eternal conflict of good versus evil, but he shrewdly ensures his baddies are not totally corrupt, nor are his good guys wimps.

At 540 pages (almost 100 less than Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), The Amber Spyglass builds on the narrative developed through the earlier parts of the His Dark Materials saga, The Golden Compass (1996) and The Sable Knife (1997). It is a strong concluding volume, diligently tying up loose ends while also capable of being read on its own. Even more intriguingly, some critics felt The Amber Spyglass, having been long listed for last year's Booker Prize, could feature on the short list. This didn't happen. Still, now thanks to the prize plus €48,000, a wider readership will be alerted to something special younger readers have already discovered.

Eileen Battersby is Literary Correspondent of The Irish Times