Carnegie digressions by Paul May

My voyage of discovery through the winners of the Carnegie Medal has already taken me to some unexpected places. For example, after reading Eve Garnett’s The Family at One End Street I learned of her love of the north and her many journeys north of the Arctic Circle. 

A few years ago I cycled around the North Sea, and I’d recently read an excellent book by Peter Davidson called The Idea of North, which the Telegraph review sums up nicely: ‘A deeply researched and beautifully written survey of the concept of north in legend, history and the arts, and in the psyche of “northern” people’. 

So when I learned that Eve Garnett had written a biography of Hans Egede, the Norwegian missionary and explorer of Greenland, I naturally had to read it. To Greenland's Icy Mountains is a lovely book, illustrated with Garnett’s characteristic line drawings and with many of her own photographs, and full of vivid, beautifully written descriptions of landscape and nature in northern latitudes.

That was one diversion. Then there were two contrasting biographies. Angela Bull’s life of Noel Streatfeild was lively and entertaining and I read it with real pleasure. Theresa Whistler’s massive life of Walter de la Mare was by turns detailed, informative, fascinating and tiring. Whistler’s book took her thirty-five years to write—that’s twice as long as it took James Joyce to write Finnegan’s Wake. Like Angela Bull, Whistler had full access to all of her subject's papers. Unfortunately for her, de la Mare ‘kept all letters received, and . . . hoarded also (on principle, as seed corn) all scraps, notes, revisions, false starts, draft on draft—even his earliest rejection slips.’ Add to this the fact that Whistler knew de la Mare well and clearly revered him and you can see both why the book might have taken so long to write and why it took me a long time to read. It is hard to imagine my own life written down in such detail. I can’t tell you what I was doing this time last year, or come to think of it last week, let alone fifty years ago.

Theresa Whistler wrote a couple of children's books too, so they needed reading, and then there were all the writers who de la Mare knew. There were a lot of them, most importantly perhaps Edward Thomas. I am not short of things to read, thanks to the postman.

So, back to 1942. One thing I’ve already learned about the Carnegie is that some very odd books have won it. The Little Grey Men by ‘BB’ is a very odd book, but despite (or perhaps partly because of) its oddness, it is a classic. It’s a tale of Britain’s last four remaining gnomes. One of them has disappeared on a journey to find the source of the Folly Brook and the others set out to search for him. The gnomes are an interesting creation. Like hobbits they have been nearly wiped out by the modern world, keep themselves to themselves, but are still to be seen by those with sharp eyes, especially children. This is a theme which will recur later with The Borrowers.

‘BB’, whose real name was Denys Watkins Pitchford, was a Rugby schoolmaster and ‘sportsman’ who was also an illustrator, painter and poet. He was convinced that he had seen a gnome himself, as a child, but while the gnomes are entertaining enough characters, this book is all about the author’s passionate love of the English countryside. The gnome’s eye view of what is, in reality, ‘a small brook rush-grown in places, bushed in by hawthorns, with many a bend and miniature beach’ transforms it into a place of mystery, adventure and beauty. Reading the book I felt I was seeing the landscape as I saw it as a child, from lower down and close up—a magical world. The gnomes themselves act as a symbol of this magic which is in effect not magic at all, but the reality of childish perception. Watkins Pitchford says: 

‘As a boy I believed with Llewelyn Powys that if “I could become invisible and be transported to the tall elder hedge across the field, or in a trice, to be on the other side of the green hill where the red-legged moorhen has her nest amid the basket rushes of the ox pond”, I would surprise the little people about their business.

            And in the magic of the white twilights of new summer I still get that feeling. When it fades I shall no longer write books for children.’ (Peter Davidson—see above—wrote a wonderful book about twilight called The Last of the Light).

‘BB’ continued to write for children for many years, and his Bill Badger books were widely read for a generation and more. In its structure and in some of its episodes The Little Grey Men has echoes both of The Wind in the Willows and of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, and like The Wind in the Willows it features an appearance by the god, Pan. The journey up-river towards Giant Crum’s lair in Crow Wood is a journey into fear which culminates in death, murder even. This is the greatest oddness in the book and BB’s ‘sportsman’s’ perspective on the natural world requires some unpicking. Giant Crum is a gamekeeper, and Crow Wood is a fenced-off pheasant reserve where Giant Crum hangs the corpses of owls, stoats, weasels and all kinds of small animals. BB was a specialist in shooting wild geese, and fishing for carp, yet he was also, you may think bizarrely, a conservationist. His hatred here is for the artificial and commercial rearing of birds for shooting, and of the fences. Quite how this justifies the actions of the gnomes is not clear!

Denys Watkins Pitchford—'BB'

The gamekeeper conservationist lives on, however. On the country estate where I used to live (in a humble rented cottage I should say) the gamekeeper was happy to shoot buzzards and foxes and allow lamping for hares (you drive into a field in a land rover with a floodlight and shoot the hares immobilised in the beam), and at the same time he promoted himself as a conservationist. 

The Little Grey Men won the Carnegie in 1942. No book was deemed suitable in either 1943 or 1945, but in 1944 it was won by Erik Linklater’s The Wind and the Moon. If The Little Grey Men is odd, this book is odder. All the way through it betrays its origins. Linklater was instructed by his wife to take their two young daughters for a walk in the rain. Of the genesis of his story he says: ‘in its simple, original form it was entirely purposive. It was designed—and told at the top of my voice—to drown the loud, ill-tempered howling of my two small, rain-soaked daughters.’

Eric Linklater

Unlike BB, who was trying to capture a child’s magical view of the world, Linklater deals for the most part in a kind of whimsical invention which for me became very wearing indeed, and almost had me screaming like the rain-soaked daughters before I had finished. I thought the book was incoherent, rambling, over-long, slightly condescending in tone (as you might expect from a story made up on the spur of the moment to calm children) and there was just TOO MUCH WHIMSY! It is also at least two books in one. In the first half the ‘naughty’ children over-eat until they roll around like giant footballs, then starve until they are thin, and are then turned into kangaroos and live in a zoo while the author pokes adult fun at the legal system over the heads of his juvenile readers. In the second half of the book the girls set out to rescue their father from a cruel tyrant in a foreign country with the help of a golden puma, a white falcon, their dancing teacher and a couple of sappers left over from the Boer war.

Some people love this book. Marcus Crouch says: ‘summary makes nonsense of a story full of gay invention, good humour and suspense. It is a long story but it has no longeurs.’ (I disagree!)  New York Review Books, who have their own edition, say: ‘ Written at the height of World War II, this tale of hilarity and great adventure is also a work of high seriousness; after all, “life without freedom,” as the valiant puma makes clear, “is a poor, poor thing.”

I’ll be very interested to hear from any modern fans. Linklater, according to Crouch, ‘had won high distinction as novelist, poet, dramatist and biographer. He was also, moreover, a man of affairs and of action.’ I can’t help wondering whether the editor in the children’s department at Macmillan wasn’t a little intimidated and reluctant to offer editorial suggestions. It truly is a long book—about 90,000 words—and I don’t think it would make it unscathed past a modern editor.

In the interests of balance I should say that I am unlikely to be well-disposed to any book that is said to be full of gay invention and hilarity. And in case you were wondering, I read this before the onset of the current lockdown. For an alternative view (I wouldn’t want to put anyone off) you might be interested in this by James Meek in the Guardian from 2005.

Slightly Foxed have a nice edition of The Little Grey Men with Denys Watkins Pitchford's original scraper board illustrations, and New York Review books have a good one of The Wind on the Moon but it isn't readily available here, though I have seen their editions in independent bookshops eg the Book Hive in Norwich. There is also a UK paperback edition.

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The Carnegie from the Beginning by Paul May

I’ve just started on a project that’s been in my mind ever since a friend in the Schools Library Service showed me a shelf in their offices containing all of the Carnegie medal winning books. I’ve started reading them all, from the beginning. 

I thought I ought to do this partly because there are quite a few names on the list that I had never heard of, to my shame. I'm not sure if this will be an occasional series or a monthly one, but this month I’ve read the first three winners.

PIGEON POST (1936) by Arthur Ransome is the book of which his wife, Evgenia, said ‘it’s not very much worse than the worst of the others.’ She also told him, later that year, that WE DIDN’T MEAN TO GO TO SEA was ‘flat, not interesting, not amusing.’ Luckily for Ransome, hers was not the only opinion he listened to. However, it’s probably fair to say that PIGEON POST is not Ransome’s most successful book, and it was said that it won the inaugural Carnegie partly in recognition of the achievements of the Swallows and Amazons series as a whole.

I remember enjoying the book as a child, and re-reading it now it strikes me just how important is Ransome’s ability to produce a vivid sense of place. He loved the Lake District and he knew and loved its people, who spring brilliantly to life on the pages of the book—station porters, farmers and their families, an elderly slate miner. But the plot feels forced.

I think this is partly because Ransome is very aware that Nancy Blackett, the chief inventor of the make-belief transformations of the real world around them that drive the early books so successfully, is now getting a little too old for this. And, indeed, the younger children notice in this book that at times the older ones are acting ‘almost like natives’. For me the most interesting thing about PIGEON POST is the treatment of Titty’s terror and distress when she finds that she, alone of the children, is able to dowse for water with a forked hazel stick. Ransome gives her an inner life of a quite different order and complexity to any of his other characters.

Eve Garnett’s THE FAMILY AT ONE END STREET, which won the prize in 1937, was written quite deliberately to counterbalance the overwhelming preponderance of middle-class children in children’s fiction, and in books like PIGEON POST. Garnett was a painter and illustrator who was commissioned to make drawings for Evelyn Sharp’s 1927 book THE LONDON CHILD. Garnett was horrified by the conditions she found ‘in the poorer quarters of the world’s richest city’ and THE FAMILY AT ONE END STREET was part of her effort to do something about this.

I hadn’t read this book before and was surprised to find that it is at least as much about the adults as about the children. It’s very entertaining and beautifully written, and I love the way the children seem to be completely trusting of most of the adults they meet, happy to hop into a car with them to go to a party or let them buy them a boat ride. In fact almost everybody seems to be terribly kind to almost everyone else, apart from the nosy neighbour two doors down and a bunch of French sailors who are understandably angry when a small boy nearly kills himself stowing away on their ship. Even the posh people are very kind to the poor people. It seems from the perspective of 2020 a very innocent world where people are happy even when they are hungry, and I wonder if Eve Garnett felt that there were some things that just couldn’t go into a book she intended for a young audience. 

George Brown, the Labour politician, grew up in the East End of London, and in his autobiography he says ‘it was a happy childhood, with a wonderful spirit of equality among the people of our neighbourhood.’ This is what Eve Garnett captures so well, but George Brown also describes the time after his father was sacked for his part in the General Strike of 1926: ‘Every Friday I had to go to the workhouse with a little sack to collect our allotment of bread and treacle. I was bitterly ashamed and bitterly angry.’ This is what we don’t see in THE FAMILY AT ONE END STREET.

Many publishers turned it down, saying that they thought it 'not suitable for the young'. I think they found the depiction of working-class life shocking, even though the incidents with child protagonists are insightful and funny. It’s certainly very different from Arthur Ransome though it shares with Ransome's book the distinction of never having been out of print.

From IS IT WELL WITH THE CHILD?

Eve Garnett also produced a book of drawings of children in 1938. In this she illustrates snatches of dialogue and anecdotes sent to her from around the country. She also painted a 40-foot long mural in the Children’s House in Bow which shows children being led out of East End poverty into the green countryside. There’s a web page with pictures of the mural, which is badly in need of conservation and looking for donations!

And on to 1938. This year’s winner was THE CIRCUS IS COMING by Noel Streatfeild. Streatfeild was a giant of twentieth century children's literature, even though, at the beginning, she saw her children's books as a sideline and maybe even a distraction from the adult novels which she continued to write throughout her long career. Her first book, BALLET SHOES, was a runaway success. Streatfeild writes of passing a bookshop in Oxford Street where 'a sight met my eyes which astounded me. One entire window was given up to piles of my book, and around the window like a frieze hung pink ballet shoes.'  My 93-year-old mother, whose memory is in tatters, saw me reading Angela Bull's biography of Streatfeild and instantly recalled being eleven years old and desperate to read the book.

THE CIRCUS IS COMING was Noel Streatfeild's third book for children, written after intensive research which involved travelling around Britain with Bertram Mills's circus. The opening sentence is hard to beat: ‘Peter and Santa were orphans.’  (It's the plainspokenness I admire, the desire to get on with it.) The children have been brought up by their Aunt Rebecca who, having been lady’s maid to a duchess, thinks that she knows the correct way to bring up children (the duchess’s way) This results in the children being very ignorant. They have never met many people either, certainly not ordinary people. Then their aunt dies and, rather than allow themselves to be sent to separate orphanages, they run away to try to find their Uncle Gus, who is a circus clown and an acrobat.

They arrive in London and sit on a step to wait for a pawnbroker to open so they can get some money. They are saved by a man named Bill who takes them in, feeds them, and puts them on the right train. He tells them: ‘I’m taking a chance on you two . . .’ There’s no suggestion at all that they might be taking a chance on him. In 1930’s Britain it was the child’s duty to be polite to strangers, not run a mile. Or so it seems from these books.

Uncle Gus is a far more fully-realised adult character than is normally found in children's fiction, and I was surprised to find myself being invited to see inside his head. Perhaps it's the adult novelist being  as interested in this adult as she is in the children, but unlike with the Eve Garnett book there is no doubt whatsoever that this is a book written for children.

There’s some wonderful stuff here about the children’s ridiculous prejudices being challenged and undone, some of it very relevant today. For example, it turns out all the circus children from Germany, Russia and France can speak AT LEAST two languages, and even though they go to school in a different town each week they are way ahead of Peter and Santa.

The descriptions of circus life are fabulous, and the different ways in which Peter and Santa came to terms with their new life were absorbing and really well done. I especially liked the end of the book, and I’d say that the final paragraph is one of my top three ever. An excellent first sentence, a brilliant final paragraph and great writing all the way through. 

Angela Bull's excellent biography has this story from Noel Streatfeild's schooldays at a rather staid Ladies College, which tells you a lot about her. Noel had started a class magazine WITHOUT PERMISSION. 

‘She was summoned to the headmistress’s study, where Miss Bishop tore the precious magazine to shreds and forbade her to write another issue. This searing injustice provoked Noel to her worst act of defiance. She invented the Little Grey Bows Society.

The aim of the society was to be rude to the teachers. Every girl who joined got a little grey bow as a membership badge, and was awarded a hundred marks, one of which was docked each time she was polite in class. It was intended that the person with them most marks left at the end of term should win a prize.’

It ended badly, of course, and Noel’s parents were asked to remove her from the school.

Still, she had the last laugh. And I cannot resist including this little gem from Angela Bull's book. Having become, according to one critic, a classic in her own lifetime,' friends noticed her tendency at parties to begin every remark, 'Of course, speaking as a writer—'

PIGEON POST and THE FAMILY AT ONE END STREET are still in print, but THE CIRCUS IS COMING, rather surprisingly, is not. Angela Bull's very lively biography is readily available second-hand.

Next month: Eleanor Doorly, Kitty Barne and Mary Treadgold.

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