I went with a friend to look at a remarkable medieval wall painting in a local church - a so-called “Doom” mural, depicting very scarily the Last Judgement with the Damned being pronged down into hell and the Saved ascending into heaven looking rather smug about it.
We retired to the local pub to recover from our Doomsday experience. And chatting to the barman, we discovered that the village had another proud claim to fame, having been the birthplace and home of famous children’s writer, Philippa Pearce.
This made reading “Minnow on the Say” hugely exciting, as a book by a local author set locally too. The locations are mostly disguised by fictional names (so real-life Great and Little Shelford become Great and Little Barley, for example). But the biggest clue is the upfront dedication from Philippa Pearce to her parents living at The King’s Mill, the wonderful water mill that still stands grandly by the River Cam (called the Say in the story).
It’s a charming book written three years before “Tom’s Midnight Garden” and I simply can’t understand why it’s not as famous. Well, actually, having thought about it a bit, I think there may be a simple reason why “Minnow on the Say” has never been as popular. It’s because it’s about two boys doing boy stuff. And I’ve noticed that children’s books about boys seem fewer in number and never so feted.
The progress of the relationship between the two boys - working class eleven-year old David Moss and the slightly older posh orphan Adam Codling - is delightfully drawn. The friendship that they forge through their adventures in Adam’s old canoe, The Minnow, tells us about:
- Resilience. There’s no helicopter parenting - grown-ups are uninvolved and remote, or even in Adam’s case both dead. Children are encouraged to go out on their own unsupervised, and to develop their own sense of initiative and self reliance (“Why not go for a long cycle ride this afternoon?” Mrs Moss urges her son on p11).
- Tenacity. The boys are determined to restore The Minnow themselves to boat-yard standard regardless of how hard the work is and how long it takes (p30). They’re also stubbornly resolved to find Adam’s long-lost family treasure in spite of all kinds of obstacles and challenges.
- Straightforwardness. The boys are matter of fact and pragmatic in their relationship. They speak their minds and don’t mince their words: “I ought to go,” he said. “So long, then,” and Adam turned back blithely (p25).
- Intimacy. David and Adam are entirely comfortable with physical closeness and nudity (“When David was naked, Adam began to wash him down with warm water from the can” p20).
- Self sufficiency. David gets himself up early every morning to do a paper-round (p28) and he’s so independent he won’t even accept his mother’s offer of “sixpence for buns for his tea” (p11).
- Tension. While David has the placid temperament of childhood, Adam is veering on adolescence with teenage mood swings, rudeness and tempers - for example, hurling the ball of twine into the river in sheer frustration (p83) and suddenly losing all interest in things (“It seems to me that we can never do anything about anything” p89). The boys spar, argue and even come to blows (“grappling and fighting as if to the death” p223). And yet they’re so closely synched emotionally that they often don’t need words to communicate (as when they row together in The Minnow).
Other characters in the story include:
- David’s mother, Alice Moss, who’s over-anxious and emotional but also tender-hearted and generous (for example, making a “majestic plum-cake, freshly and especially to celebrate David’s friendship with Adam” p39).
- David’s father, Bob Moss, a bus driver whose only passion is growing prize roses. He seems rather remote, strict and undemonstrative. Yet it turns out that he himself was once a pretty boisterous schoolboy (p74). And he unobtrusively helps out David more than his son realises (for example, secretly subsidising the cost of the boat vanish).
- Miss Codling, Adam’s aunt and guardian. She’s stern but kindly, enigmatic, resourceful and abrupt (she doesn’t “like to waste time in standing and talking” p31).
- Adam’s grandfather, Old Mr Codling, once a proficient sportsman (p39) but eccentric and disturbed since the death of his son (Adam’s father).
- Philip Wilson (aka “Pip” hence “Pipsqueak” and then just “Squeak”), the sly little man who once worked for Old Mr Codling (who sacked him for getting drunk on the job) and now does odd jobs in the village, from repairing flour sacks to digging graves.
- Mr (Ashworthy-)Smith, the sinister and unscrupulous London antiques dealer who’s also on the trail of the Codling treasure (together with his bullied and nervous wife and their mysterious young daughter Betsy).
There’s some wonderful descriptive writing that cleverly gives the narrative pace rather than holding it up. Sentences I especially liked included these:
- “The waters were a pale brown, quite without transparency, and curdled here and there into white or yellow froth” (p3).
- “Adam slithered off the subject on to another” (p21).
- “The air was thick with the rich, dry smell of corn and flour - of flour that had gone to make loaves long since baked and eaten” (p76).
- “Oh!” she cried, in the bewilderment of leaving sleep (p85).
- “Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! The singer came bearing with him, unmistakably, the scent of hawthorn and cowslips, apple-mint and clary, honeysuckle and roses - all the flowers that go into the making of Flower Wine” (p239).
There’s also some lovely gentle irony and subtle humour. For example:
- David’s mother worries about her children falling into the river at the bottom of her garden, even though the only time her elder son Dick had fallen in, it “had had no special effect upon him, unless perhaps it had given him a taste for water - he was in the navy now” (p6).
- Adam in particular is always starving and working out schemes to get extra grub (“Come on! We can have two teas, if we’re quick!” p66).
- The terrifying apparition under the mill bridge turns out to be the friendly upside-down face of friendly miller, Mark Tey (p73), looking down at the boys in their canoe.
Lastly, I couldn’t finish this review without commenting on the glorious illustrations by Edward Ardizzone. I found myself studying the drawings at the top of each chapter for ages - they’re so rich with detail. I wonder if he made field visits to the location to steep himself in the atmosphere of water meadows, woodland and reedbed?
It strikes me too that the drawings have the same gentle intensity of Ernest Shepard’s illustrations for “The Wind in the Willows”. And this led me to muse on the similarities in the relationships between David and Adam on one hand, and Ratty and Mole on the other …