Book Review: The Flint Heart by Katherine and John Paterson

The Flint Heart may be a familiar name to some: and if so, it’s likely because you’ve come across the Eden Phillpotts original from the early twentieth century. To celebrate the story’s centenary, Katherine and John Paterson have reworked this classic tale to appeal to more modern tastes.

The Flint Heart of the book’s title is a dangerous item of terrible power: it hardens the wearer’s heart, taking away their sense of mercy or love so that they may rule over those around them. And indeed, this was the intent of the heart’s first owner, who demanded that the item be created so that he could effectively beat those around him into submission–and not give a toss about whom he hurts in the process. Eventually, though, the heart became lost, lying dormant until uncovered by Billy Jago, a pleasant enough farmer who turns a wee bit Hydean when he picks it up. (Moral: power corrupts, etc)

Jago’s children recognise that their daddy dearest is no longer the kind chap they know and love, and set off on a romp through fairyland to wean Billy away from his newfound addiction to power. In doing so, they encounter all sorts of oddities and whimsical bits and pieces–German hot water bottles (with holes! Whatever happened to German engineering?); bardlike fairies who worship at the altar of Shakespeare; and no few Dobby-like dolts who are there for kicks and giggles but not much else. And of course, the secret of the heart is eventually determined and its terrible reign put to an end.

The Flint Heart is written in a gloriously silly tone that results in the occasional laugh out loud moment, but unfortunately tends for the most part to veer firmly into twee territory, and you feel a wee bit embarrassed for the narrator at times. There’s a tongue-in-cheekness to it, but it’s also frightfully patronising, and the frequent overt nods to the audience pull the reader out of the story rather than drawing them into it. (Random aside: at times I expected the author to make a mention of the House of Arden, so Nesbit-like is the prose.) I was a little surprised by the choice of illustrations, too; although undeniably beautiful, they seem more suited to the original edition than to this more modern one.

The narrative also seems like it could do with a bit of tidying up, as there are places where it feels quite rushed, and others where it feels tediously drawn out. The introductory chapter, which is set in the Stone Age, is good fun, but is misleading, giving the audience to expect an entirely different book from the one that follows. Indeed, I felt that the novel would gradually progress through the ages to the present, but instead it simply jumped forward into the now (well, the 19th century–close enough), making me wonder whether the lengthy introduction was indeed necessary. Some scenes also stretch out beyond the tolerance of young attention spans (and indeed, mine), with the “grading” scene, although amusing, being excruciatingly long, and the joke about badgers able to be drawn (using pencil–this is a children’s book) but not quartered taking up a few more pages than one would imagine a one liner probably should.

Because of the emphasis on humour over anything else, the characters generally come off a little worse for wear, with few of the characters especially memorable–the Jago children in particular are entirely forgettable–and those that do stick in one’s memory do so for their irritating ways rather than any other reason. The possible exception to this is De Quincy, who, although an arrogant git, is at least a bookish one, and I’ll forgive him his personal foibles merely because of his frequent literary references.

Coming from the hands of the veteran Patersens The Flint Heart promises some great things, but doesn’t quite deliver on these, and the overall result is something that’s a little cold, and a little, well, flinty. Try the original instead.

Rating: (not bad)