Princess Grace by Mary Hoffman

Kiss by Jacqueline Wilson

FEMALE ROLE MODELS in fairytales have been hotly debated by feminists. Few would argue that lying around waiting for a prince to rescue you with a kiss, like Sleeping Beauty, is a good thing; but we would be poorer without such stories. How is a girl to choose — or a boy, for that matter?

Two outstanding new books go to the heart of the question. Princess Grace is Mary Hoffman's third picture book about the small black girl who discovered, in Amazing Grace, that she can be anything she wants. An international bestseller, it won numerous prizes, and was named by Laura Bush as her favourite children's book.

In this story, Grace's class is asked to dress as princesses (and princes) for a schools parade. No problem, Grace thinks, having “wanted to be a princess for as long as she can remember”. She and her friends want predictably pretty, pink floaty costumes, but her wise Nana points out that there is “more than one way to be pretty” and asks: “What does a princess do?”

Grace asks her teacher and, this being a fairytale, her teacher takes the question seriously. Princess warriors, military leaders, sportswomen, scientists and even a spy encourage Grace to rediscover her African roots and to wear a ravishing ethnic costume of kente cloth. Her best friend stays pink, but feminism is all about making more choices available to women, and that includes those of traditional femininity.

This may sound too politically-correct for words, and the illustrations by Cornelius Van Wright and Ying-Hwa Hu have a distinct resemblance to Chinese Communist propaganda posters. but Grace is handled with such deftness and humour that Princess Grace will find its way into every heart.

Sylvie, the narrator of Jacqueline Wilson's Kiss, is small, flat-chested and in love with her best friend Carl. Together, they have created a version of the Brontës' imaginary Angria, Glassworld, inspired by Carl's collection of glass objects.

While other girls giggle and gossip about what they do with boys, Sylvie wants to write the book of their fantasies and marry beautiful, clever, artistic Carl when she grows up.

Adult readers will realise much earlier than children the cause of Carl's reluctance, but the catalyst is Miranda Holbein, Sylvie's new best friend. Thrown out of one school, she is curvy, naughty, sophisticated and rebellious. A lesser writer would have made her the villain but, just as the adult characters are sensitively drawn, there is more to Miranda.

There are a lot of anxieties about whether you go to a “posh” grammar school or a comprehensive, what kind of house you live in, whether your parents are married, and this can grate. Even when they have a rich fantasy life like Sylvie's, these children are never going to be as wholesome as E. Nesbit's or even Richmal Crompton's, and many middle-class parents call Wilson “the devil woman” for this reason.

But it is often missed that her books abound with pointers to a wider literary and cultural awareness. She brings intelligence of the adult world, and its elites, in a way that children can grasp, and this can empower them. At the heart of Kiss, as in all her best books, is an emotional truthfulness, courage and comedy that deserves more than the usual pink cover. But pink, as real princesses discover, is not such a fairytale colour after all.

Princess Grace by Mary Hoffman

Frances Lincoln, £11.99; 32pp

Kiss by Jacqueline Wilson

Doubleday, £12.99; 247pp

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