Tashi's Complete Magic: Aussie Folklore Kids
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- The first Tashi book was published by Allen & Unwin in 1995, co-authored by Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg, and illustrator Kim Gamble.
- The series ran to twenty volumes between 1995 and 2015, with each instalment pairing two standalone folklore-inspired adventures.
- Tashi won the 1996 KOALA (Kids' Own Australian Literature Awards) and has sold over two million copies globally.
- The character draws from Chinese folklore archetypes and Buddhist trickster traditions, filtered through a distinctly Australian suburban lens.
- A 52-episode animated series based on Tashi premiered on ABC Kids in 2014, introducing the character to a new generation.
As of April 2026, Patina's Sci-Fi & Fantasy collection includes eight rotating preloved Tashi volumes—enough to trace the series' evolution from debut to mid-run favourite. Here's the current line-up.
Tashi — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
The one that started it all—and still the sharpest entry point into Tashi's world.
The 1995 debut introduces Tashi through a framing device that would become the series' signature: Jack comes home from school and tells his parents about the new kid, Tashi, who has "stories that'll make your jaw drop." The first tale involves a warlord, a flying carpet, and Tashi's clever escape from near-slavery; the second pits him against a dragon with a taste for children. The prose is deceptively simple—short sentences, punchy dialogue—but the folklore bones are solid. Gamble's ink-and-watercolour illustrations have a scratchy, almost woodcut energy that suits the trickster-tale DNA. This is the volume that won the KOALA and set the template: two adventures per book, each about thirty pages, each turning on Tashi's wit rather than brute strength. Explore our current copy of Tashi or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Giants — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
Volume two doubles down on the "small hero, big problem" formula—and introduces Chintu, the dimwitted giant who becomes a recurring foil.
Published in 1996, this instalment pits Tashi against not one but two enormous antagonists: Chintu and his even-less-bright brother. The plot hinges on a classic folktale motif—giants who want to eat village children—but the Fienbergs season it with absurdist humour (the giants argue over condiments) and Tashi's trademark quick thinking (he convinces them he's poisonous). The second story involves a kidnapped village and a rescue mission that reads like a heist. By book two, the series had found its rhythm: folklore scaffolding, Australian vernacular, and a protagonist who wins through cleverness, not magic. Chintu would reappear in later volumes, cementing the series' loose continuity. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Giants or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Ghosts — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
The supernatural dial gets cranked up—Tashi faces actual ghosts, and the stakes shift from physical danger to existential dread.
Volume three (1997) is where the series starts playing with tone. The title story involves a haunted house, a wronged spirit, and Tashi acting as impromptu medium to settle the ghost's unfinished business. It's eerie without being frightening—think Miyazaki's Spirited Away rather than Goosebumps. The second tale pits Tashi against a shape-shifting demon who impersonates his parents, which is genuinely unsettling for a book aimed at six-year-olds. The Fienbergs never condescend; they trust young readers to handle ambiguity and moral complexity. Gamble's illustrations lean into the uncanny—shadows stretch longer, faces distort slightly. This is the volume that proved Tashi wasn't just a trickster-tale retread; it could do folklore horror, too. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Ghosts or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Genie — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
A genie who grants wishes badly, a cursed lamp, and Tashi learning that some problems multiply when you try to outsmart them.
Published in 1998, volume four introduces a genie who's less Aladdin and more malicious trickster—every wish he grants comes with a nasty twist. Tashi must outwit a creature who's technically on his side but functionally working against him, which makes for a deliciously tangled plot. The second story involves a stolen treasure and a false accusation, letting Tashi play detective. By now, the series had sold half a million copies in Australia alone, and the Fienbergs were confident enough to experiment: the genie story ends ambiguously, with Tashi "winning" but not fully defeating his opponent. It's a rare moment of narrative humility in a genre that usually demands total victory. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Genie or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Baba Yaga — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
The Fienbergs raid Slavic folklore and transplant Baba Yaga—chicken-legged hut and all—into Tashi's world, and it works.
Volume five (2000) is the series' most audacious cross-pollination: Baba Yaga, the bone-crunching witch from Russian fairy tales, flies into Tashi's village in her mortar and pestle. The collision of folkloric traditions shouldn't work on paper, but the Fienbergs treat both mythologies with equal respect—Tashi's trickster logic meets Baba Yaga's riddle-based bargains, and the result feels inevitable. Gamble's illustrations lean into the Slavic gothic: gnarled trees, crooked architecture, Baba Yaga's hut skittering across spreads on its chicken legs. The second story involves a stolen voice and a quest to recover it, which gives the book an unexpected emotional weight. This is the volume where Tashi stops being "just" an Australian series and becomes something transnational. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Baba Yaga or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Demons — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
Demons plural—Tashi faces a whole crew of supernatural antagonists, and the village finally learns to help itself.
Volume six (2001) ups the stakes by introducing multiple demons at once, forcing Tashi to organise a collective defence rather than solo-trick his way out. It's a subtle shift in the series' ethics: earlier books celebrated individual cleverness, but by the mid-run, the Fienbergs were interested in community action. The second story involves a cursed well and a water-demon, which lets Gamble paint some of his most atmospheric spreads—moonlit surfaces, reflections that don't quite match. The prose gets slightly denser here, signalling that the audience had aged up with the series. Preloved copies often show heavy wear (creased spines, thumbed corners), which tells you everything about how hard these books got read. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Demons or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Big Stinker — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
A giant who reeks, a plot that hinges on hygiene, and proof that the Fienbergs never lost their sense of humour.
Volume seven (2002) is the series' most scatological entry—the titular "Big Stinker" is a giant whose smell precedes him by several pages. Tashi defeats him not through combat but through a bath (and some strategic soap deployment), which is absurdist and oddly wholesome. The second story involves a bandit king and a heist-in-reverse, with Tashi stealing back what was stolen. By now, Gamble's illustration style had loosened slightly—more watercolour wash, less rigid ink—which gives the mid-series volumes a warmer, lived-in feel. This is comfort reading in the best sense: familiar stakes, reliable structure, a hero you'd want on your side in a tight spot. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Big Stinker or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Tashi and the Dancing Shoes — Barbara Fienberg, Anna Fienberg & Kim Gamble
Enchanted footwear, a stolen heirloom, and Tashi solving problems through empathy rather than trickery—the series growing up in real time.
Volume eight (2003) introduces magical dancing shoes that won't stop moving, which gives Gamble an excuse to draw motion—swirling lines, blurred figures, kinetic energy jumping off the page. The second story involves a missing family treasure and Tashi playing mediator between feuding neighbours. It's a quieter, more emotionally intelligent entry, reflecting the Fienbergs' interest in conflict resolution over pure cunning. By the mid-2000s, Tashi had become a fixture in Australian classrooms—teachers loved the short-chapter structure and high-interest plots—so the series could afford to slow down and let character breathe. Preloved copies from this era often carry school library stamps, which feels appropriate. Explore our current copy of Tashi and the Dancing Shoes or browse more Sci-Fi & Fantasy books at Patina.
Twenty volumes, two decades, two million copies sold—Tashi remains one of the few Australian children's series to crack the international market without sanding off its local edges. The series ended in 2015 with Tashi and the Royal Tomb, but the early volumes—especially the first eight—are where the magic crystallised. If you're hunting down a complete set, start with volume one and work forward; the books reward sequential reading, even if each adventure technically stands alone.
Is Tashi based on a real folklore character or did the Fienbergs invent him?
Tashi is an original creation, but he's built from recognisable folklore DNA—specifically the "clever small hero" archetype found in Chinese, Buddhist, and trickster traditions worldwide. The Fienbergs have said they wanted a character who solved problems through wit rather than strength, and Tashi's name (which sounds vaguely Tibetan but isn't tied to a specific language) reflects that pan-Asian folkloric flavour. He's not Anansi or Br'er Rabbit, but he's clearly their literary cousin.
What age range is the Tashi series actually aimed at?
Officially, the series targets ages 6–9 (early readers transitioning from picture books to chapter books), but the folklore complexity and occasional darkness mean older kids stick with it longer than you'd expect. The short chapters (each story runs about 30 pages) and large type make them ideal for reluctant readers, while the layered plots reward closer attention. Honestly, the sweet spot is probably 7–10, but we've seen collectors in their thirties hunting down childhood favourites, so the upper limit is negotiable.
Where can I buy secondhand Tashi books in Australia?
Patina Paperbacks stocks rotating preloved copies of the Tashi series, shipping Australia-wide from Sydney. As of April 2026, we've got eight volumes in stock, covering the series' first decade. Because Allen & Unwin kept the books in print for twenty years, secondhand copies turn up reliably—but early editions (especially first printings from the mid-'90s) with Kim Gamble's original illustrations are increasingly hard to find in good condition. Check Patina's Sci-Fi & Fantasy collection for current availability.
Did the Tashi animated series follow the books closely?
The 2014 ABC Kids animated series (52 episodes across two seasons) adapted specific book plots but updated the framing device—Jack and Tashi became schoolmates in a contemporary Australian suburb, and the folklore adventures happened in flashback. Visually, the show leaned harder into colour and CGI movement than Gamble's ink-and-watercolour illustrations, which some book purists found jarring. The core character beats stayed intact, though, and the show introduced Tashi to kids who'd never pick up a chapter book, so it's hard to call it a betrayal.
Are the Tashi books considered Australian folklore or just inspired by it?
They're Australian children's literature *about* folklore—specifically, they're a contemporary Australian take on pan-Asian and European trickster traditions, filtered through the Fienbergs' suburban Sydney lens. Tashi himself is from a "far-away place" (never specified), but the framing story is resolutely Australian: Jack lives in a normal suburb, goes to a normal school, and Tashi's tales arrive as oral storytelling. Over time, the books *became* part of Australian folklore in the functional sense—two million copies sold, a generation of kids who grew up on them, a shared cultural reference point. So: not folklore in origin, but folkloric in impact.