When William Brown gives up his weapons and joins the Peace Movement, his mother knows it's too good to be true. And sure enough, the Brown's garden is soon filled with pummelling, wrestling boys. You can always rely on William to leave chaos in his wake - with the best of intentions.
Richmal Crompton Lamburn was initially trained as a schoolmistress but later became a popular English writer, best known for her Just William series of books, humorous short stories, and to a lesser extent adult fiction books.
Crompton's fiction centres around family and social life, dwelling on the constraints that they place on individuals while also nurturing them. This is best seen in her depiction of children as puzzled onlookers of society's ways. Nevertheless, the children, particularly William and his Outlaws, almost always emerge triumphant.
It’s 1933, and in a leafy village somewhere in England there’s an eleven year old boy called William Brown who never gets any older. He has a gang called The Outlaws (Ginger, Douglas and Henry), a dog called Jumble and an irritating six year old girl hanger-on called Violet Elizabeth Bott who’s main talent is that she can be sick at will. He has no money because he’s spent every last halfpenny on gobstoppers, catapults, water-pistols, air rifles, sherbet dibdabs or more likely he has no money because his pocket money has been stopped to pay for the breakage of three windows in the greenhouse. (“How was I to know that glass is so fragile? Why don’t they make it stronger, so that little tiny stones can’t break it, that’s what I’d like to know”). The stories revolve around ludicrous misunderstandings about a vicar’s wife promoting World Peace or a local campaign for slum clearance or William telling someone his brother is to be assassinated by the Bolsheviks or establishing a night club for the village kids with liquorice water for drinks and Violet Elizabeth putting on a cabaret (she sings “Mad about the Boy”) or stealing his aunt’s industrial-strength sleeping-draught and experimenting on two rats and a cat (they died) and a visiting Temperance Society bigwig (he’s taken for dead drunk, but he survives). The plots are pure joyful Swiss-watch perfection. Richmal Crompton : comedy genius.
If you like things like Le Petit Nicolas or any of the Jeeves and Wooster books, this might be right up your alley. Each chapter is a different short story, loosely connected to each other, in which William with his group, the Outlaws, gets into hilarious hijinks, either competing with other gangs or trying to make life more interesting. It's genuinely funny in a timeless sort of way.
In William the Gangster, Richmal Crompton once again unleashes William Brown, the lovable catastrophe, upon the world. Only this time, William fancies himself a gangster—a grand title for someone whose schemes are about as dangerous as a wet sponge.
The stories are an absurd parade of misunderstandings, starting with William’s bafflement over a vicar’s wife promoting world peace (as if that’s any concern of his). In William’s mind, any adult campaign is ripe for misinterpretation, and Crompton does not disappoint. Take, for instance, the slum clearance campaign, where William is convinced it must involve some grand criminal conspiracy. Naturally, this results in a series of bungled ‘operations’ that wouldn’t seem out of place in a Marx Brothers film.
At one point, William takes his fantasy of intrigue to new heights, spinning a wild tale about his brother being the target of a Bolshevik assassination. Only in William’s world could such a preposterous notion be taken seriously—by him, at least, if not anyone else.
But it’s in his effort to bring some “nightlife” to the sleepy village that William truly shines as a miniature would-be gangster. His idea of a nightclub, complete with liquorice water as the illicit drink of choice, is equal parts charming and ridiculous. Of course, no nightclub is complete without entertainment, and who better to provide the cabaret than the infamous Violet Elizabeth Bott? Her rendition of “Mad About the Boy” is probably enough to make Noel Coward spin in his grave, but William remains oblivious to the travesty.
One of the more outlandish plots involves William stealing his aunt’s industrial-strength sleeping draught to test on two rats and a cat—none of whom survive the experiment (a surprisingly dark moment in an otherwise jovial collection). Yet, undeterred by the deaths of these poor creatures, William goes on to administer the draught to a visiting Temperance Society bigwig. Naturally, he’s assumed to be drunk rather than drugged, causing more uproar.
Crompton’s genius in William the Gangster lies in her ability to combine William’s childlike innocence with increasingly farcical situations. Despite the high body count (if you count the unfortunate pets) and near-miss scandals, William remains blissfully unaware of the true consequences of his actions, and somehow, everything turns out all right in the end.
In short, William the Gangster is a hilarious, if wildly inappropriate, romp through the chaos that follows William like a storm cloud. For readers who enjoy a good dose of ridiculous misunderstandings, eccentric plans, and a child who takes gangster fantasies to bewildering extremes, this is the book for you.