Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism, by Georgia Byng

A mesmerising tale of wish-fulfilment

Dazzled by the post-Harry Potter dream of making untold millions in the otherwise impecunious world of children's books, publishers are on the lookout for another big earner. And in Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism, one of them may have struck lucky. With film rights already sold and 23 countries opting for translations, Georgia Byng's jolly, uncomplicated story could do really well, not least because it shares many of the characteristics that helped to make JK Rowling's fiction so popular.

Molly Moon is also a plain, unloved orphan, this time living in a miserable institution. While she possesses no magical powers, her newly acquired hypnotic skills are sufficient to win over everyone she encounters. Her enemies all obligingly look or act the part, whether this involves obtrusive false teeth, greasy hair, beefy legs, small fat hands, or sharp noses and cold, spying eyes. Sometimes they have names to match: Gordon Boils, Roger Fibbin or Mrs Toadley, who is also given to regular sneezing fits.

Breaking away from her child and adult tormentors, Molly makes it to America. She soon manages to hypnotise audiences into thinking she is a musical star, while in reality she sings flat and has no sense of rhythm. But her stay in one of New York's best hotels is disturbed by a crook who kidnaps her pet dog. To get the animal back, Molly must rob a bank.

This she does with great panache, reducing all the staff to a trance – including two gorilla-like security guards, cheerfully described as possessing brains no larger than a sugar lump. But after winning back her pet and neutralising the chief villain, Molly tires of her false celebrity and returns to Britain in order to sort out her former orphanage once and for all. Now renamed Happiness House, all the children within it can at last flourish, while even Molly's previous enemies are relieved that she has finally come back.

Byng is not an outstanding writer, but certainly an effective one. Lacking Roald Dahl's manic verbal energy, she still knows how to tell a good story, keeping interest going for over 300 pages. For children of eight to 11, this could be a long read, but well within their powers – whatever nonsense is peddled about supposedly declining powers of concentration

They will not learn much about themselves or today's world, given the black-and-white characterisations and an orphanage where visiting couples can adopt an inmate whom they take away without any further formalities. But the story's central fantasy of omnipotent wish-fulfilment is as old as literature itself, and always of particular meaning to young readers on the threshold of any real power in their own lives.

The reviewer has just published two Rough Guides to children's books