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skip to content stephen davies children's author menu and widgets about my books picture books, chapter books and ya author visits to primary and secondary schools blog email twitter three days in austria two of my books are published in german by aladin verlag: blood & ink and titanic: 24 stunden bis zum untergang. i just got back from a short tour of austria, where i had been invited to talk about my 2015 book blood & ink, a book that is ever so close to my heart. as austria’s new far-right government closes mosques and deports dozens of turkish imams, now is a good time for frank, wide-ranging discussion of the issues surrounding political islam. blood & ink is a useful springboard for such discussion because all of the characters in the novel are muslim. no clash of civilizations here. no east versus west nonsense. just two manifestations of islam confronting each other within a remote, walled city. in vienna on wednesday i was hosted by büchereien wien as part of their lesofantenfest reading festival. it seemed fitting to be presenting blood & ink in vienna because timbuktu librarian abdel kader haidara was here himself not so long ago, talking about how solutions to ethnic and religious conflict might be found in the timbuktu manuscripts themselves. on thursday i took the train up into the mountains to radstadt a pretty walled town surrounded by majestic peaks. i was the guest of borg radstadt, discussing blood & ink with students in years 8 and 9. big readers, some of them, and a real pleasure to spend time with. it was warm and bright in the mountains – bei uns wärmer als in afrika, proclaimed the local newspaper headlines. good for the blooming flowers, bad for those living in the mountains, where winter sports are so essential to the local economy. on thursday afternoon, the wonderful peter fuschelberger from literaturhaus salzburg took me to see his childhood haunts in bischofshofen. a peaceful town known for its chocolate-box beauty and its dizzying ski jumps, bischofshofen is one of the most important venues in the ski jumping world cup. on the way up the mountain peter told me about his sixteen-year-old nephew florian, already an accomplished ski jumper. seeing the jumps and hearing about florian made me long to write a ya novel set in the world of ski jumping. there’s one already (gravity by juliann rich) but i suspect there’s room for a second. on thursday afternoon i had a short tour of salzberg, including the gardens of schloss mirabell featured in the sound of music. then on friday i did two talks at the salzburg literaturhaus . the young people at these two talks were especially forthcoming and we had worthwhile discussion not just about political islam but also about empathy, research and cultural appropriation. when is it appreciation and when is it appropriation? such a hot topic right now. the young people at these events really impressed me with their acuity and common sense. thank you to all the students who came to my readings in austria, and to the fab teachers who accompanied them. warm thanks also to martina adelsberger at vienna main library and to peter fuschelberger of literaturhaus salzburg. three days in austria was not enough, and i look forward eagerly to returning. posted on november 12, 2018 november 12, 2018 categories author visits leave a comment on three days in austria hilda book 1 now available in french, italian and spanish format image posted on november 1, 2018 november 1, 2018 categories chapter books leave a comment on hilda book 1 now available in french, italian and spanish a dogon story when i lived in burkina faso i wrote dozens of stories, most of which have never seen the light of day. here is one of them. it’s set in mali’s dogon cliffs, properly known as the bandiagara escarpment . i rather like it, except for the phrase ‘home they went to sup’ which sets my teeth on edge. atiko was a dogon boy. he lived with his grumpy gran at the foot of the dogon cliffs. like other dogon boys, atiko enjoyed eating onion soup, playing the tamtam drums and chatting to galemba the talking snake. unlike other dogon boys, atiko was scared of heights. one day, atiko’s gran said, ‘i’m going up to the cliff-top, atiko, to visit my onion-patch. i want you to come with me.’ ‘i can’t,’ said atiko. ‘i’m scared of heights.’ gran glowered. ‘your father loved to climb,’ she said, ‘your aunts and uncles, too. we’re dogons on the dogon cliffs and climbing’s what we do.’ ‘it’s not what i do,’ said atiko. ‘i’ll just stay down here and chat with galemba the talking snake.’ gran sighed and took her mittens off, took off her woolly socks. she spat on her hands, she spat on her feet, she clambered up the rocks. ‘how’s she doing, galemba?’ whispered atiko. ‘is she nearly there?’ ‘not yet,’ said galemba. on tiptoes like a mountain goat, gran trod a narrow ledge. she had no time for vertigo when visiting her veg. ‘how’s she doing, galemba?’ whispered atiko. ‘is she nearly there?’ ‘not yet,’ said galemba. on tiptoes like a desert djinn, gran crept along the ledge. she suddenly slipped on an onion skin and fell over the edge. ‘atiko, help me! help me! help me! atiko! help me, atiko!’ ‘gran over cliff,’ galemba said. ‘just listen to those wails! she’s clinging to the cliff face. she’s hanging by her nails.’ ‘she’s going to fall off!’ cried atiko. ‘somebody, do something!’ ‘climb the cliff,’ galemba said. ‘it’s time to be a man. forget your fear and climb the cliff and save your grumpy gran.’ atiko paled. ‘i’m scared of heights!’ he yelled. ‘climb the cliff,’ galemba said. ‘don’t hesitate at all! forget your fear and climb the cliff. don’t let your granny fall!’ atiko stood up. he wrapped galemba round his neck. ‘help me, atiko!’ cried gran. atiko kicked his flipflops off. he spat on his hands and feet. ‘help me, atiko!’ cried gran. atiko scrambled up the cliff-face and along the narrow ledge. he arrived at the exact same spot where gran had fallen off. ‘don’t tread on the onion skin,’ galemba warned. atiko didn’t tread on the onion skin. he knelt down and stretched his hand towards his dangling gran. ‘grab my hand,’ said atiko. ‘i can’t reach it!’ wailed gran. atiko lowered galemba down towards his dangling gran. ‘granny, grab galemba’s neck!’ ‘i can’t!’ wailed gran. ‘i’m scared of snakes!’ ‘you’re joking!’ said atiko. ‘i’m terrified of snakes,’ said gran. ‘i fear their toothless grins. i fear their wicked, gleaming eyes and scabby, scaly skins.’ ‘grab me, gran,’ galemba said. ‘forget my toothless grin. forget your fear and grab my neck and let us haul you in.’ granny grabbed the grinning snake. her grandson hauled her up. he carried her down to the foot of the cliff and home they went to sup. from that day on, atiko was never again scared of heights and gran was never again scared of snakes. but galemba the talking snake was so traumatized by the day’s events, he never spoke again. the end posted on september 15, 2018 september 15, 2018 categories life in west africa leave a comment on a dogon story happy roald dahl day everybody! format image posted on september 13, 2018 september 13, 2018 categories uncategorized leave a comment on happy roald dahl day everybody! hilda and the hidden people publishes today i confess, i hadn’t heard of hilda until this time last year. i first encountered her in the article here comes hilda in the new yorker. i was intrigued. then i read hilda and the troll and joined the ever-growing tribe of hilda fans worldwide. now i have the comics beside me as i write, an ‘ancient giants’ poster on the wall in front of me and hilda herself for a desktop wallpaper. hilda was created in 2009 by luke pearson, when he was still at school. he drew a picture of a blue-haired girl wearing a beret, scarf, red top, blue skirt, and big red boots. she had a scandinavian city behind her and was surrounded by all kinds of strange creatures. that one picture led to five comics (published by flying eye bo

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