2.5 stars
Enid Blyton was one of my favourite authors growing up. My parents grew up on her books, as did many from my generation — all private school libraries in India would boast of a mix of all of Blyton’s serial works — a remnant of our Colonial past.
Some time last year, my mother and I were engaged in a conversation about books from my childhood, and my mother asked, “Have you ever noticed how there’s racism in Enid Blyton books?”
Thinking back, it was easy to spot them — the Scallywag doll from the Amelia Jane books, Carlotta in the St Clare’s books — they jumped to my mind pretty quickly. I wasn’t aghast — I guess I knew all along subconsciously. But thinking about these books made me wonder if the writing was ever any good, or if a lot of it had been over-simplified to make it easy for children.
Stopping at the Enid Blyton section at my library, I decided to try out a random book from one of my favourite series — The Five Findouters and Dog, and this was the book I grabbed first.
Coming back to the fictitious town of Peterswood as an adult was like coming back to a place you once used to visit a lot way back in the past, something that almost faded out of your memory. A place where not much has changed when you come back, but everything feels different because you have fundamentally changed.
Premise: Fatty (what a terrible nickname), Daisy, Larry, Pip and Bets, along with their furry friend Buster discover that an old, nearly blind man has been robbed of his savings. Naturally, it falls upon the shoulders of these pre-teens to solve the mystery, and ensure the man and his money are soon brought back together, since the one-man police squad of the town is clearly not as competent as five children.
Things that I liked:
— Mr Goon, the town’s policeman (the antagonist) decides to dognap Buster (Fatty’s dog) and shoot him dead, since he finds him super annoying. When Fatty learns of this horrifying plan, he concocts a truly amazing scheme to get Buster back from Mr Goon’s shed; and I was laughing so hard, that 1.25 out of the 2.5 stars I rated this book is just for this.
— It was nice to be thrown back to the simpler time of elementary school, where all summer I’d read these books. While the plot was a bit too simple, it was still a pleasant change from what I read usually. The remaining 1.25 stars is for this.
Things that I disliked:
— Frederick’s nickname is Fatty, not Fred or Red or Ricky. Nope, it’s Fatty, because big surprise, he’s fat.
— Fatty is such a Gary Stu (a male version of a Mary Sue) — he’s ranked first in his academics, is good at ventriloquism, is flawless in disguising/acting, is super popular, has an IQ of 200 (I’m kidding, but it’s somewhere in that range), knows nifty tricks like how to break into a house and pick a lock, can do anything he sets his mind to, is so good tempered that his servants like him, is tolerant of people making fun of size (often laughing along with them), and is rich to the boot. So yup, the definition of a Gary Stu.
— Oh my goodness, why does Mr Goon always have to be made incompetent for Fatty to look smart in comparison?
— The other four children are, what you call in Hindi, chamchagiris, i.e., people who exist to flatter someone else. This series could have been named One Kid and Dog, but then each book would be only 10 pages long, without all the adulation the other four pour about Fatty.
Bottom line: This experiment went well, and it was a lovely throwback to summer days when I’d lie on the floor haphazardly with my legs resting on the windowsill, taking in the setting summer sun as I buried myself in a world of scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam and lemon coolers. Ah, how wonderful it would be to be seven again. :’)
xx
Pre-review:
2.5 stars — I read this book as part of an experiment. I’ll elaborate on that when I post the review.