“I wrote the books for 8–12-year-olds. It began with one opening scene. From there, I could not stop; eager to know what Molly and Michael would discover next. 640+ pages later, I had completed the series, surprised by how many adults told me they had loved reading them.
I suspect the reasons this series cannot be pinned into an age-defined category is this:
- Science is treated seriously
- The child protagonists are STEM stars in their own right
- Nature is more than scenery; it’s a character
- The mysteries unfold across four books, the stake growing higher with each one
- There’s humour and magic without the classic fantasy grimness
- It rides the boundary between eco-fiction, fantasy fiction, solarpunk and science fiction
Here is the open scene from Book One: The Magic Volcano
Molly Marsh loved to travel. But this journey was different from all the others. This time, she had said goodbye to her friends for a whole year. Then she had cried herself to sleep, clinging to her beloved cat, Kiki, who she would miss most of all.
The plane was headed for Papua New Guinea, the most unexplored country on Earth. Her father sat to her right, beside the window. His fingers fluttered over his laptop keyboard, reminding Molly of a flutter of butterflies. She imagined a dark shape outside the window. The body of a butterfly, perhaps. Another butterfly would appear, and then a third and maybe a fourth.
Soon, they would all be fluttering outside the window. This would be their way of saying ‘hello’, but the vibrations caused by their fluttering wings would crack the glass. It would start with one small crack and progress to an entire network of cracks that would branch out like the roots of a great tree. Then the window would turn to water and slosh all over her father’s keyboard.
‘Argh!’ he would cry.
Then he would wipe his hands on his jeans, push his glasses up his shiny nose and continue typing. Even when the plane dipped and everyone screamed.
‘Dad, the plane must have banged into a cloud,’ said Molly, clutching her stomach.
Her father shoved his laptop under his seat and took hold of her hand.
‘Are you okay, muppet?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Dad,’ she replied. ‘I know the plane won’t crash.’
Her father smiled and winked at her.
‘No, it won’t,’ he said.
Molly looked at her father’s spiky red hair and the freckles on his nose, imagining him as a little boy. Which was strange, considering he was a very grown-up and serious father.
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