Goodnight Mr Tom Now

Goodnight, Mister Tom. And thank you for reminding us that love is not a feeling. It is an action. It is a door left open. It is a hand that does not strike.

Goodnight Mister Tom is not a book about the Second World War. It is a book about the first world—the private, secret world of childhood, where every adult is a god, and every god is either a terror or a shelter. Tom Oakley is a god of small things: a slice of bread and dripping, a pair of secondhand boots, a lap to sit on during an air raid. Goodnight Mr Tom

When the government evacuates children from London to the countryside to escape the Blitz, they are not sending soldiers. They are sending collateral. And Willie—thin, stuttering, beaten by a mother who believes God sanctions her cruelty—is the most fragile piece of shrapnel of all. Goodnight, Mister Tom