Bridget Vanderpuff and the baked escape (by Martin Stewart)

(Amazon UK link)

A couple of decades ago, I thoroughly enjoyed reading to my teenage sons: sometimes classics which I loved and which I thought they might not otherwise pick up to read, sometimes new books which we all wanted to read at the same time. I missed this when they eventually left home. So I’m delighted that when I visit my older son and his family, my 11-year-old grandson still wants me to read aloud to him.

Not that I read classics or even new books - it’s rather the other way around. He likes me to read books which he has already read (often multiple times) which he thinks I would enjoy. And while I tend to start with a tad of reluctance, I find myself caught up in the storylines and quite enjoying stories which I would definitely not choose to read myself.

The one I have read over the past couple of weeks is ‘Bridget Vanderpuff and the baked escape’ by Martin Stewart. My grandson told me that this is the first in a series about Bridget Vanderpuff, and that he has read it many times, sometimes just skimming. It opens with quite a traumatic scene: a nine-year-old girl called Bridget, whose main feature seems to be an enormous amount of wiry hair, is using a lock pick to rescue her best friend Tom who is locked up her headmistresses office.

It’s quickly clear that the two are orphans, and that they live in an institution which makes other dreadful fictional orphanages look almost luxurious by comparison. The owner, Miss Acrid, is a caricature of ghastliness. And she has an odd quirk that she disapproves of nouns with irregular plurals. So she talks about ‘childs’ rather than ‘children’; ‘foots’ rather than ‘feet’.  

We don’t actually meet any of the other children, who are all, conveniently (and without any checks or test periods) adopted by families who arrive that day. Bridget is imprisoned by Miss Acrid, so she misses out… and learns that even Tom has been adopted. She’s the only child left, and her only reminder of Tom is a gold ring he gave her. She’s very ingenious, and has somehow managed to acquire a multitude of tools, which she keeps in her hair. And she has a skirt that turns into a kind of parachute when needed… there’s no indication of where these things came from, or why Miss Acrid has not confiscated them. 

Just as Bridget is almost lost in despair, she hears another man arrive, and ask for her by name. Miss Acrid denies that she’s ever had anyone called Bridget Baxter, and persuades the man to leave… and Bridget manages to get into his car, and finally escape. 

Mr Vanderpuff is the baker in a lovely little village not far from the school. He has a wonderful shop of cakes and pastries, and Bridget is given a very comfortable room, although the quilt is rather bizarre. And she meets an elf called Pascal whom most people can’t see. Mr Vanderpuff tries to teach her some basic cooking and baking skills, but everything she tries becomes a disaster - not just flat or hard, but transforming into annoying or dangerous items. She becomes very stressed; up to this point she has managed to succeed in everything she tries. So she thinks he might send her back…

That’s the outline of the first section of the story, which is written in a fast-paced, somewhat ironic style with clever footnotes and some humour. My grandson found it funny, anyway. Bridget’s attempts at baking are quite amusing in their weirdness - much of the story is quite surreal, even though set in a mostly real world. I was reminded, more than once, of Roald Dahl’s ‘Matilda’. Miss Acrid and Miss Trunchbull are two of a kind. But the story isn’t as engaging as Dahl’s books; I never felt any real empathy for Bridget or anyone else in the book. And when I glanced at others in the series, I had no interest in reading any of them.

Still, it’s well-written with plenty of plot, and evidently appeals to at least some children in the 10-12 age group for which it’s intended. There’s nothing inappropriate in the book (other than the lack of any checking out of potential fostering/adoptive families!) and the tension and violence are mostly there for humorous reasons rather than being really scary.

So while it’s not one I’m likely to read again, I would recommend it to anyone of about nine and upwards who likes quirky adventure books. 

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