My Dad’s name’s Dave. He always goes by Dave. Not Dad. Just Dave. It suits him. Once, when Mum was high on Novocaine at the dentist, she called for her ‘Man of Steel’. That’s because Dave runs an Australian steel business. Dave… The Man of Steel. It has a certain ring to it. Making a living messing about with steel and being generally handy, meant that Dave built us lots of cool perilous “stuff”. When I was six, he knocked together a go-kart, lifting the battery out of his V8 ute to power it. Boy did that thing go. One Saturday, wedged in with my little sister Tam, I took the corner too fast. A quick look over my shoulder revealed poor Tam rolling down the street like a spring roll. Never fear… Dave simply welded on a roll cage. I love that thought process… “Go-kart too fast. Must fit roll cage.”
Dave even knocked together a little boat and welded up some crab pots so we could go crabbing. It was my job to sit up front and hang onto the pots so they wouldn’t fall overboard. Me. The vegetarian. Off we sped, the flimsy hull slapping against the water and making our teeth clatter – salt spraying into our faces. Except… it wasn’t salt. The juices from the bait were being blown into my open mouth. And the bait? Green, bulgy eyed, chook heads. CHOOK HEADS!
Whether a cubby house constructed out of asbestos or a train set mounted to a ping pong table that folded down from the wall… they’re all part of a long list of marvellous dangerous constructions “designed by Dave” to make our childhood super fun. I guess, if we’re being philosophical, it’s all wrapped up in man’s need to create. Just like another Dave we’ve come to know and love… Caveman Dave who comes oh so close to creating something properly revolutionary in Frann Peston-Gannon’s witty picture book, Dave’s Rock.
“This Dave. Dave love rock.”
And there you have it. A simple tale about a man and his rock. A man, his rock, his mate, and his mate’s rock. In fact… a man, his BIG rock, his mate, and his mate’s FAST rock. And that’s what it all boils down to. Rock rivalry. Who’s got the biggest, fastest, prettiest or tallest rock. (Typing carefully here to avoid any unintended faux pas). And as the story goes on, we see man’s instinct to make the rock better. To create… dare we say… evolve?
There’s a lot to enjoy in Dave’s Rock. Firstly it’s a perfect read-aloud thanks to the brevity of the staccato-like text. I mean who doesn’t fancy practising their caveman speak! A bit like Jon Klassen’s stories (author of I Want My Hat Back and This Is Not My Hat), a great deal of the humour is in the eyes. The text may be sparse, but the eyes say it all, as we watch the one upmanship unfold between the bearded cave blokes. I’m always in awe of author/illustrators. Praise to Frann, as the words and the pictures both rock (mind the pun).
Dave’s fast becoming everyone’s favourite caveman.
We first met him in Dave’s Cave as he went in search for a new and better home. And I’ve no doubt we’ll be seeing him again. Perhaps Caveman Dave can take inspiration from Aussie Dave and move onto such creations as go-karts and tinnies! In the meantime, my three-year-old Alice has thankfully ditched the baby talk and has instead adopted monosyllabic Dave-speak. In her words… “Book good. Alice happy.” Agreed.
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