the name of this book was obscured in a misty past for me until quite recently.
I remember reading it avidly as a class when we were about eleven.
it is one of those magical fantastical books that dwell deep within quasi-fictional memories...
the slow moving and mysterious stony nargun, the cheeky potkoorok and the dark australian bush made up a kind of antipodean narnia.
hopefully I will find a copy of this puffin edition soon...
v
image: 'the nargun and the stars' by patricia wrightson (1973)
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