Flipping Fiction

Have you ever spotted the main strategy that many young people use when choosing fiction? It doesn’t matter where they are- libraries, bookshops or even supermarkets- trust me, once you’ve seen it happening you’ll notice it all the time.

Let’s start with the good news- young readers still love vibrant covers. Art appreciation is alive and well: something bright, action-packed and colourful is bound to succeed and, if well-planned, the cover makes a helpful and practical portal into the world of the story.

But then… once they’re initially attracted to a book, what do many young readers do next? Do they remember all those English lessons they’ve had about persuasive writing, thoughtful reviewing and the power of a book blurb? Do they turn over their selected title and give full consideration to the finely crafted back cover… or do they even find the first page and see what they think about the opening paragraph of the story?

Alas not. This is the bit which makes my heart plummet into my boots. Because helpful criteria- like discovering the subject, plot and characters of the book- become utterly dismissed as far too many young people favour a casual, critical and pacy bit of flipping instead.

It’s ever so easy, doing the flip. Have you tried it? You put the bulk of the book in your right hand and hold it down with your thumb on top of the first page. Meanwhile, grasp the cover with your left hand and hold the book open. Now, allow your right thumb to flow down the pages so that they fly from right to left, enabling you to scan the contents of the book in double-quick time.

That’s it- how to choose a book at the electric speed that characterises children’s lives today. Flipping provides everything that many readers think they need: an idea of text density and a check that the typesetting isn’t so small and close that they’ll labour excessively whilst reading it; confidence that there aren’t so many pages that they’ll end up struggling to the conclusion; and an insurance policy of occasional pictures to guide them through the plot. It’s therefore such a shame that, as a method of choosing an enjoyable read, this method is completely unfit for purpose and- indeed- is counter-productive because the book might be wildly unsuitable for an individual’s interests or reading proficiency.

Dare I say it… the flip can probably be blamed for the current extreme popularity of easy-to-read, but very repetitive and almost plotless, narratives written in the style of comic books that dominate today’s bookshops and bestseller lists.  Yes- of course we should celebrate that they’re books which succeed in getting into young hands- but they fall short of the finely-crafted novels that all bookworms deserve.

The stakes here could not be higher: this is all fundamental to pupils’ development as readers and learners. If they can’t find enjoyable well-written texts, they won’t mature into thoughtful users of language who enjoy making discoveries through the books they read. That should be more than enough in itself, but they also won’t become immersed in the modelled language, techniques and structures which they are pre-programmed to emulate by osmosis, informing their own writing and enabling them to express ideas and opinions. We risk silencing a generation by preventing insights from being voiced, not to mention hampering developing mental health by denying the outlet for worries and anxiety that escape into a fantasy world most surely provides.

So why does this happen? First of all, it’s a consequence of many families losing the habit of visiting their local library and releasing the superpower which is a library card; that wonderful piece of plastic which facilitates lower-stakes decision making. If a reader tries a book and doesn’t enjoy it… they can just take it back; no harm done.

But that’s not all. As young readers develop their fluency and independence, they often need to navigate a wide crevasse between the expectations made on them by their school’s reading programme, the contents of which rarely exceed 96 pages even at the highest of levels, and the ‘middle-grade’ texts that populate bookshops and libraries. Many of these are a couple of centimetres thick, so should we really be surprised that teachers rarely serialise books in classrooms these days when titles can often exceed 300 pages and 30 chapters? The shared pleasure and excitement in discovering a narrative’s dramatic twists, turns and cliffhangers are never satisfactorily achieved through use of extracts: only the entire text will suffice, but in an era of high accountability the rest of the curriculum has to be covered too- and time, as every teacher knows, is precious.

So I decided to have a go at writing children’s novels that address the balance: books that are relevant to the readers of today and touch on matters of concern to them both in school (such as studying the solar system in Science lessons) and at home (like dealing with a new sibling). Equally importantly, the narratives are manageable- 128 pages- and accessible, so they fit into any reading diet.

Knowing the tests they were destined to face, of course I wanted my books to appeal when being flipped. Although the books are written in a traditional style of paragraphs and chapters, some punchlines and twists throughout each text deliberately appear in bold capitals. The word THUNDERPANTS! is present somewhere or other in each title in the series, alongside motivational hints about plot twists- HELLO STRATOSPHERE, HERE WE COME!- and these are all deliberately formatted to stand out during the flicking process: it’s A WHOLE HEAP OF CRAZY! (but without any obvious spoilers of course). Combined with sensible spacing on the page, judicious use of illustrations, ten short chapters and a complex protagonist who constantly practises her joke-telling skills as a form of light relief- perfect for readers to share and discuss- I hope I’ve found a way to produce original worthwhile texts that children really enjoy. That’s not to say I haven’t packed them with ‘Easter egg’ surprises, open-ended questions and stimuli for discussion (why is the first chapter number TEN!, and has anyone ever thought reality was a dream- or do such beliefs only occur the other way round?) but these, of course, are points where readers can stop, reflect and share ideas with each other as they truly immerse themselves in intriguing plots.

Flippin’ ‘eck: by the time they discover the sequels, they might even begin using the back cover blurb to inform themselves before settling down to read. Here’s the first, just in case you’re wondering: “Ten-year-old comedian and astronomer Aahana (Aaha) Kapoor has two big problems: a holiday she doesn’t want and a stepbrother she really didn’t ask for. But when a lost teddy and some hot chocolate send her fifty years into the future, she discovers that time travel is no joke, and neither is family. With the help of a rebellious robot and a suspiciously familiar Commander, Aaha races to fix the future before time runs out.”

Jonathan Brough is a retired headteacher who now works as an educational consultant. The first book in his AAHA! series of children’s fiction- AAHA! Racing to Rescue a Ted Trapped in Time - was published by Tiny Tree in February 2026. He can be contacted through www.booksbyjonathan.website or via aaha@jonathanbrough.net.