Annabelle ,to Z
Pantaloni. By Bettina. (O.U.P., 10s. 6d.) The Treasure of the Isle of Mist. By W. W, Tarn. (Oxford Children's Library, 5s.) The Treasure of the Isle of Mist. By W. W, Tarn. (Oxford Children's Library, 5s.) ONLY last summer, quite by chance, I came across a book that had been one of my childhood's most treasured possessions. The story, as I remembered it, was both stimulating and original, and the illustrations of surpassing beauty. Stirred by these recollections, I read it through again and was saddened to find that at some point during the intervening years the vicissitudes of two donkeys seemed to have lost something of their early magic. My children, however, enjoyed the story as much as I once did, and there lies one of the problems inherent in the review of children's books. For, contrary to popular superstition, the literary taste of the young is not only uncertain. In most cases it does not exist at all. Until some standard has been imposed, and a critical faculty has developed, they will turn as readily to the trivial vulgarity of Enid Blyton as to the enchant- ment of Hans Andersen. More readily, indeed, when it is remembered that less concentration and an infinitely smaller vocabulary are required for an understanding of one than of the other. This being so, some attempt should be made to avoid condoning the ill-written and the banal on the grounds that children will enjoy it. These books, moreover, are intended to be read aloud, and it seems reasonable that parents should be allowed to protect themselves, as well as their children, from the inanities of Rupert Bear and Noddy.
Of the books under review, Annabelle Joins In tells the story of three girls who set out to spend their holiday at a youth hostel in the Highlands. It will be enjoyed by those who like dogs, hiking and the language quaintly imagined by the English to be spoken among the Scots. Bettina's Pantaloni is a tale that will find much favour among the seven-and-under group of readers. It is, as dust-covers say, lavishly illustrated, in this case by the author herself, and the plot centres round an old man, a small boy and the truant puppy of the title. The story is engagingly told and the pictures have character and charm.
The Little Duke is, of course, a reprint of one of the most famous of all children's classics, and as such deserves a place on every nursery book- shelf. Although the setting is archaic and the long descriptive passages with which the book abounds hold considerably less appeal for a twentieth- than a nineteenth-century audience, yet no one knows better how to tell a children's story than Charlotte Yonge. The little Duke himself is the embodiment of all the manly virtues, and the villainous French Queen Gerberge, Richard's friend Alberic de Montemar and, indeed, all the principal characters are boldly and imaginatively drawn. Even those already familiar with the story will be hard put to it not to suppress a sigh of heart-felt relief when Osbert de Centeville, bearing the little Duke on his saddlebow con- cealed in a truss of hay, comes safely through the gates of Laon. The final chapter, it need hardly be added, is all that a romantic could desire. Jennifer Miles's illustrations are not of the same quality as those contained in Macmillan's original edition, but they are more numerous and per- fectly adequate.
The three remaining books are aimed at a rather older audience, and in all of them the central figtire is a girl. Dawne Butts is the heroine of The Happy Answer, an American story about orphans that owes something both to Little Women and to Polyanna. From the orderly house- hold presided over by 'Aunty' Shaw in Green- ville, Dawne is moved to a rollicking seaside establishment where fireworks and clambakes take the place of class diplomas and decorous walks. When the rich Mrs. Seaver offers to adopt her, she imagines her dearest wish is about to come true, but the new home proves a bitter disappointment, and in the end she finds happi- ness in an unexpected quarter. The story is told without much imagination, but with an affec- tionate understanding of the difficulties that lie in the way of providing security and care for the children whose own families have for one reason or another been unable to furnish them with either.
Naomi' Mitchison's Judy and Lakshmi is a work of far superior merit. The scene is set in Madras, where Judy's father works as a doctor, and the story is not only one of friendship, and the misunderstandings that arise when the children of different races are drawn into their parents' quarrels, but of India itself. Through the eyes of Judy and of her admirable, though solemn, parents, we are given a picture of the new India emerging from the NES areas and the village literary classes. Looming always in the background of the narrative, like a cloud con- siderably bigger than a man's hand, is the shadow of the author's social conscience, but, great as is her sympathy for Nehru and his policies, Mrs. Mitchison is not by any means blind to what aspects there are of corruption and selfishness. On the other hand, some of the less politically conscious children among us may well feel that they would prefer to hear more about Dipavalli and the Pongal Festival and less about mass- radiography in underprivileged areas.
With The Treasure of the Isle of Mist we come to the last, and in many ways the best, of these books. In spite of the sentimentality of the title, this is not a tartan fantasy about Skye, but a genuinely poetic account, written in sophisticated language, of the quest undertaken by two children —the Urchin for Spanish gold and Fiona for some- thing less tangible. There are wrecked galleons in the story, art eccentric father and several different kinds of fairy.
CHRISTIAN HESKETH
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