Little Library Quest #1: Secret Seven Adventure by Enid Blyton

This is part one of the Little Library Quest. Just a twenty-something rediscovering reading through the random charity of strangers. Whatever gets left behind in little libraries around wherever I go, I pick up and write about. No agenda, no reading list. Just whatever I find.

I haven't really read for pleasure in years. I'd been meaning to get back to it for a while but I genuinely didn't know where to start. I'd been so removed from it for so long that I was scared I didn't have my fast reading and attention span quirks anymore. And then one day, due to peak boredom, I randomly visited my neighbourhood park.

There's a little library there. A little blue box tucked in a corner, full of books that people leave for strangers. I hadn’t noticed it before but then I had only been to that park once before. Without thinking much, I half ran towards it. Sitting there in almost mint condition, barely read, was Enid Blyton's Secret Seven Adventure. The second book in the Secret Seven series. Published in 1950.

The nostalgia hit like a brick.

As a kid I had owned so many of her books — the Famous Five series, the short story collections, even a few of the Secret Seven ones and The Secret of the Moon Castle which I own to this day (my favourite book of hers back then). That was where my love of reading began. This particular book was one I hadn't read, and I thought, well, I guess this is a sign.

Boy, was I wrong to have doubted myself. It took barely a few paragraphs to go back to the way I was. Of course, adult me has certain opinions. But it felt genuinely good to be reading again. After all, it was only 121 pages and 20 small chapters. I have slain bigger beasts as a 9-year-old. (Which I shouldn't have. Thank God I didn't understand the themes, whew.)

I was glad to meet the old gang again — Peter, Janet, Barbara, Pam, George, Jack and Colin. And Scamper, of course. He gets a separate shoutout because he IS part of the secret service and I don't understand how Peter could ever think otherwise. I didn't then, I don't now. Oh, and the occasional Susie as well, Jack’s little sister and self-appointed nuisance. I remember quite liking her as a kid, maybe because I was also the younger sister in real life, always wanting to be part of my brothers' business, much to their annoyance. 

Enid Blyton has always been good at writing in children’s voices. I could very much imagine myself talking like that as a child, all important and clever. The humour in her writing is kid humour, but it made adult me chuckle a few times just because it was adorable (That's so weird to say. Why am I old?)

The plot was like any other adventure/mystery book by her, as far as I can remember (which is not much since the last time I read anything from her, I was eleven years old). The seven come across a mystery involving a certain Lady Lucy Thomas’ stolen pearls and a quite agile thief, and set off to figure it out. Pretty standard stuff. I figured out the mystery by chapter 8 but the story only really unfolded by chapter 17, so I was just trying to focus on taking in the storytelling in between. I do see how it would be incredibly stimulating and quick for a kid though. The framing is very intriguing for a younger mind (and the more I frame my sentences like this, the older I feel).

Now, I will say I was surprised at some stuff in this book. Maybe I shouldn't have been. We all know about Noddy and the “golliwogs” controversies around it but I guess I was still surprised since I hadn't read anything from her in so long. I had no internet access when I was still reading her as a kid and it never really crossed my mind then. Reading about her real life was disappointing as a teen, I will say. While I didn't think of her to be this amazing person, I thought she would have been a bit kinder. She was a lot less wholesome than I thought she would have been, especially given how warmly she wrote for children, and how little of that warmth seemed to extend to her real life.

Now, onto adult me noticing things.

First, the fun one. There was some interesting spelling scattered about — bain't and oughtn't, older forms of regional British dialects apparently. It confused me and yet felt weirdly familiar at the same time. I don’t even think I can sound out oughtn’t right. There were actually a lot of familiar phrases throughout though, and my own way of speaking started making a lot more sense. I am sure others who grew up on her books would relate. She is still one of the top selling authors in India, after all. These two words were still new to me though. Some new vocab to throw out for fun, if I can ever figure out how to say it right. 

Then there was the circus. It appears in the story as part of the mystery adventure backdrop, and it was genuinely interesting to read a 1950 depiction of one knowing what we know now about animal welfare and circus conditions. What struck me though was that Blyton herself is kind of accidentally (?) gesturing towards it through Janet – who, like the other kids, enjoys the circus, but also says that “lions aren’t meant to act about” and worries the lion is going to pounce on its keeper (it didn’t, but it is described as snarling and unhappy). Janet also has major cuteness aggression over a little bear that kept getting loose, and is visibly unhappy when one of the circus members handles it roughly. And yet, in the same breath, the bears are described as apparently enjoying boxing each other and the gentle elephant as having fun playing ball. Blyton writing it both ways at once, without seeming to notice. Just found that interesting.

And then, the first three chapters (most probably the reason why it was barely read).

The seven are playing “American Indians”, which I am pretty sure is a modern edit to the name of the game because I remember some of her books referencing this game differently (“Red Indians” but it was a different time so we move on). The part that had me confuzzled was that somehow six of them had complete sets of “American Indian” clothes, feathers and all (Huh? Was this a ‘50s British childhood thing I’m unaware of? Genuinely asking). They painted their faces in “weird patterns”, and talked about stalking people but settled on stalking Colin because he was the only one without a set (hey, come on). He even has to tell them to not shoot arrows at him or tie him to a tree (bruh) because "it might be fun for you but it isn't for me" which is actually a great lesson in empathy and consent for kids. But also, what? I sat there reading this, just hoping it would be over soon.

Now before you come for me, I know it was a popular game at the time. I get it. What I don’t get is the editorial inconsistencies I have come to find out. Publishers have gone out of their way to make changes to her books, (starting with Noddy, welp, that one was needed) like changing “queer” to “strange” in some books while keeping it the same in others, like in this one. Searching for other books by her that I had read as a kid, I came across several articles about these “changes” as well, especially the modernisation of names which puzzled me. In the Holiday Stories anthology, Joan has now become Suzie or Karen depending on the story. Why are you making my girl go through so many identity crises? (She is definitely not the same character but it is funny).

Overall, it is just interesting to me that out of all the strange (and unnecessary, might I add) edits they’ve made to apparently modernise the book, the stuff that is obviously dated and offensive stays superficially untouched. I'm not saying any of it should be changed or erased. It's what she wrote. It was indeed a thing back then and it is part of history now. Also, as it is written from the perspective of children, it isn’t malicious. What I do find odd is that apparently, they've been at this since the 70s, changing things, reverting them, changing different things in different editions, while leaving certain words unchanged, sometimes in the same book. And yet the actual substance of it stays. Bizarre.

In the book, the word "tramp" comes up too, used to describe a wandering, dishevelled and/or homeless person. I know that's the older usage and I know language and meaning changes over time. That's just what happens. But I couldn't shake a weird feeling reading kids say it so casually, like they meant it with disgust, in every sense of the word.

That said, Enid Blyton's books have stood the test of time for real reasons. The writing is imaginative, the worlds are adventurous, the stories are comforting and the kid dynamics still resonate. The nostalgia is there and honestly, it was still genuinely lovely to be reading again.  However, I do also think that nostalgia doesn’t negate the obvious dated regressions. I am sure that since all of this has come to light, it has influenced more people to be aware of it (I am the one who is pretty late to acknowledging it, sigh), but it should never cancel out the fact that it was true. Both truths should just sit there next to each other, albeit a bit awkwardly. The exact feeling I had when I put the book down.  

Thanks Enid, for the very uncomfortable nostalgia.

Up next: whatever the little library gives me next.