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When the Sky Falls by Phil Earle

Mar31

2022 Middle Grade Fiction: When the Sky Falls by Phil Earle.

I received a review copy of this book, originally published in Great Britain in 2021, and scheduled for publication in April of 2022 in the U.S. The tagline on the front of my ARC says, “Friendship can come from unexpected places,” and that line does summarize at least one of the themes of this story. In 1940, with his parents unavailable and his grandmother unable to control him, twelve year old Joseph Palmer isn’t to London (instead of being evacuated out of the city) to live with his grandmother’s old friend, Mrs. F.

Joseph is filled with anger, rebellious and quick to take offense from the hurts he has sustained in his short life. When he finds out that Mrs. F. is the sole proprietor of a run-down, war torn zoo in the heart of the city, with most of the animals either sent away or barely surviving, Joseph is even more confused and angry with his grandmother for sending him away, with his father for leaving to go to war, with Mrs. F. for her unyielding personality, with the whole world and the war and “Herr Hitler” and just about everything else, including the silver back gorilla called Adonis.

Joseph continues throughout most of the book to be a prickly and rage-filled character, although we do learn some of the underlying reasons for Joseph’s anger and inability to trust. And just as Adonis is not a tame gorilla (there is no such thing), Joseph is not so much tamed as educated, learning that his impulsive anger and rage do not really serve him well as he navigates the city and the zoo during a war that takes and takes and takes away all that is good and hopeful. Mrs. F. says, at one point in the story, “I hate this war. All of it. All it does is take.”

The story is good. Joseph does grow and learn over the course of the book, in a believable story arc that ultimately ends in both tragedy and hope. But . . . the writing and the details felt a little off in some way. Rough. There’s some language, using God’s name in vain and a few curses sprinkled through, but that wasn’t the real problem. Joseph nurses his rage and anger over and over, and I just couldn’t see where it went, what it really was that redeemed him or relieved him of his fear and hatred. Mrs. F. says more than once that there’s something good deep down inside Joseph. Joseph and Adonis do form a connection, or perhaps even a friendship. And the friendship and loyalty of Mrs. F. and others with whom Joseph lives and works become important to him.

Nevertheless, even with a “four years later” epilogue chapter at the end, the story felt unresolved. I think it would be absolutely traumatizing for animal lovers in the younger end of the middle grades. Joseph’s age, twelve, is a good minimum age for reading this harrowing, but somewhat hopeful, tale. It is a war story, and maybe it would be helpful for middle grade and young adult readers who are having to deal with the horrors of war, at least in the news, again, in Ukraine and elsewhere.

I’m ambivalent. It’s certainly not James Herriot and All Creatures Great and Small, but it might resonate with readers who need something a bit more grim and gritty, but still with a glimmer of hope.

The Peppermint Pig by Nina Bawden

Sep7

Old granny Greengrass had her finger chopped off in the butcher’s when she was buying half a leg of lamb.

The opening sentence of this British children’s novel, published in 1975, should be a warning to the squeamish or the tender-hearted: This is not the book for you. I looked at the reviews on Goodreads, and there are at least two polar opposite verdicts. Either the reviewer finds the story to be “sweet and touching, poignant and heart-breaking” or “traumatic, brutal, and cruel.” Well, actually some readers found all of those adjectives applicable and enjoyed the contrast.

The story is told in third person from the point of view of Poll, the youngest of four children in a middle class family in England. When Poll’s father leaves his family behind to go off to America to make his fortune (because of an unfortunate misunderstanding with his employer), Poll, her mother, and her siblings are left without funds and go to live with Mother’s sisters, Aunt Harriet and Aunt Sarah. Mother comes home one day with a tiny runt of a pig, called a “peppermint pig”, that the family adopt as a pet.

Lily said, “You can’t keep a pig indoors, Mother!

“Oh, we had all sorts of animals in the house when I was young,” Mother said. “Jackdaws, hedgehogs, newly hatched chicks. I remember times you couldn’t get near our fire.”

“But not pigs,” Lily said.

“I can’t see why not. You’d keep a dog, and a pig has more brains than a dog, let me tell you. If you mean pigs are dirty, that’s just a matter of giving a pig a bad name, to my mind. Why, our Johnnie was housebroken in a matter of days, and with a good deal less trouble than you gave me, my girl!”

As it turns out, Lily was right, and Mother was wrong. It’s not a good idea to keep a pig for a pet, especially if the family who owns the pig is poor and will eventually . . . well, no spoilers. However, I saw where this story was going long before the “cruel” and “traumatic” ending. And I was fascinated by the tone of the story which reveals the secret lives of children, lives of thought and action that can be very dark indeed. I think it would be comforting to some children to read that other children have violent thoughts and tell lies and become quite angry and still survive. Other children might find it quite horrifying.

But, I’m ambivalent about keeping this book in my library. I think some parents would be shocked by the language and the actions of both children and adults, while I just thought the story was realistic about the sin that overtakes us all and about the brokenness that is a part of our world. Nine year old Poll is a passionate child with ideas and questions and feelings that are overwhelming at times for such a small person. And some of the ideas and events and emotions in this book might be a bit too much for a nine or ten year old who is reading it. Some examples (and you can decide for yourself):

‘Poll said, ‘What do you mean about biting off puppies’ tails?’
‘That’s what the groom at the Manor House used to do. My mother was cook there, you know. I’ve seen that groom pick up a new litter one after the other, bite off the tail at the joint and spit it out, quick as a flash. The kindest way, he always said, no fuss and tarradiddle, and barely a squeak from the pup.’

‘She hit him in the stomach, he grunted and fell and she fell on top of him. He tried to get up but she grabbed his hair with both hands and thumped his head up and down.
She couldn’t move but Noah’s laughing face was above her so she spat into it as hard as she could and said, ‘Damn you, you rotten bug, damn and blast you to hell…’

‘She made a best friend called Annie Dowsett who was older than she was and who told her how babies were born. ‘The butcher comes and cuts you up the stomach with his carving knife,’ Annie said.’ 

Theo was clever but he wasn’t sensible the way ordinary people were. He saw things differently and this set him apart. Poll thought, Theo will always be lonely, and it made her proud and sad to know this, and very responsible.

It’s a stark and realistic picture of the inner life and growth of a child during one hard year of near-poverty and perceived abandonment. Tender-hearted animal lovers and idealizers of children should beware.

The Wonderful Winter by Marchette Chute

Sep10

The Wonderful Winter is a wonderful story, exciting but fairly unrealistic in that the runaway protagonist, young Sir Robert Wakefield, mostly meets up with kind and helpful people as he spends the winter on his own in London. And he gets to act and live with Shakespeare’s company of actors in the first production of Mr. Shakespeare’s new play, Romeo and Juliet!

In 1596, orphan boy Robin Wakefield runs away from his home in Suffolk with his three formidable aunts because said aunts won’t let him keep the spaniel puppy he found and named Ruff Wakefield. He very politely leaves a note:

Dear and honored ladies,

Do not worry about me and the dog. We will be all right. I wish you long life and every happiness.

Your respectful nephew,
Robert Wakefield

By a series of choices and events, Robin ends up in London where he takes refuge from a thief, the only bad guy in the story, in the theater. And from that point on, we get to explore with Robin the lives of Shakespeare and his fellow players and the exciting culture of the Elizabethan theater.

The go-to historical fiction book about Shakespeare and his life and times is Gary Blackwood’s The Shakespeare Stealer. Comparing Blackwood’s book to The Wonderful Winter is difficult since I read The Shakespeare Stealer many, many moons ago. I would say either/or, and if you or your child like one you might enjoy the other. Other historical fiction books with a Shakespearean setting:

Shakespeare’s Scribe and Shakespeare’s Spy, both by Gary Blackwood. Sequels to The Shakespeare Stealer.

The Playmaker by J.B. Cheaney. Another runaway boy-joins-Shakepeare’s-company story. This time young Richard Malory is hiding out from enemy or enemies unknown at the Globe Theatre.

Cue for Treason by Geoffrey Trease. Peter and his friend Kit find jobs as apprentices to the Bard himself.

Mistress Malapert by Sally Watson. In this exciting story the runaway is a girl, Valerie, who dresses as a boy and gets to meet Mr. Shakespeare and various other personalities of the time. Sally Watson is especially good at writing spunky girls who manage to get themselves into all sorts of scrapes and adventures.

July 30th Thoughts

Jul30

Today is the birthday of Emily Bronte, author of Wuthering Heights, which seems to be a rather polarizing book. One person on Facebook who was reading it asked, “Does it ever move beyond unhappy people causing misery to themselves and others?” Someone else said, “Anyone who says they love Wuthering Heights is lying to sound smart.” But yet another reader said, “The prose just wraps me up and sweeps me away and I can’t help but love it. My relationship with that book is such a mess.”

I’m not lying when I say that I liked the story, even though I found almost all of the characters unsympathetic and sadly unlikeable, especially Heathcliff and Cathy. I’m not sure what that opinion says about me as a reader or as a person, but nevertheless I recommend you form your own opinion by reading Wuthering Heights. If you get fifty pages in and you hate it, I give you permission to quit and go read Jan Karon or P.G. Wodehouse to get the taste out of your palate. (Or you could try Diary of a Nobody. See below.)

Allan Wesley Eckert (not born on this date), author of Incident at Hawk’s Hill, a Newbery Honor book in 1972, “spent much of his youth hitchhiking around the country, living off the land and learning about wildlife from direct observation.” He was born in 1931, so this hitchhiking would have taken place in the late forties/early fifties. I wonder what his family thought about his choice to wander about and live off the land. This was before the era of the hippies and free-spirited sixties peaceniks. He wrote a lot of books. I wonder if he wrote one about his youthful experiences hitchhiking about the country.

I read the first couple of chapters of Diary of a Nobody by George Grossmith, a book I picked up while Engineer Husband and I were in Oxford. It’s a fictionalized diary of an ordinary man in the late nineteenth century who lives in a small house outside the City (London?) with his wife Carrie. The man’s name is Charles Pooter, and he’s a perfectly ordinary little man who takes himself quite seriously, which makes the book quite funny. The humor is dry and unassuming, but definite. For example, it begins:

“Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see—because I do not happen to be a ‘Somebody’—why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth.”

CHARLES POOTER
The Laurels
Brickfield Terrace
Holloway

George Grossmith went on to become a famous comic actor, starring in many of Gilbert and Sullivan’s most famous operas: as The Sorcerer, The First Lord in H.M.S. Pinafore, Ko-Ko in The Mikado, Robin Oakapple in Ruddigore, Bunthorne in Patience, and Jack Point in The Yeoman of the Guard. George’s brother, Weedon, illustrated Diary of a Nobody, and the illustrations are a great part of the charm of the book. I’m looking forward to savoring it over a period of several days.

This post is probably the first time that Emily Bronte’s Heathcliff and Cathy and George Grossmith’s Mr. Pooter have been referenced in the same piece of writing, but perhaps there will be connections as I continue reading Diary of a Nobody.

The Namesake by Cyril Walter Hodges

Mar18

Alfred the Great (in this book) at Stonehenge: “I like to come here, because among these stones I know that I am standing where other men like me have stood and thought the same thoughts as I, a thousand years before I was born, and where others like me will stand likewise after I am dead. This place is like Memory itself, turned to stone, and Memory was given to us by God to make us different from the animals. . . . Every man is a part of the bridge between the past and the future. Whatever helps him feel this more strongly is good. By feeling this, God gives us to know for sure that we are not beasts and do not die as the beasts die.”

I watched the BBC/Netflix television series, The Last Kingdom, based on Bernard Cornwell’s The Saxon Stories series of novels. I haven’t read Cornwell’s novels, and I don’t really recommend The Last Kingdom, although it was enthralling. It was much too violent and had too much sexual content for my tastes. Nevertheless, aside from the sex, the story was probably true to the times. It was a violent and bloody time in ye olde Wessex.

Anyway, the TV series inspired me to read more about Alfred, and a bit of fiction to fill in the gaps in the heroic saga between battles and kingly decrees, is in order. In The Namesake, Alfred is just beginning his reign in Wessex and just beginning his long fight to unite England and drive out the invading Danes.

The title refers to the narrator of most of the story, a young boy who has lost one of his legs in a Danish incursion and whose name happens to be Alfred, just like the king. This happy coincidence, along with a rather mystical vision that that the boy has, both serve to form a connection between peasant and king that lasts through battles and sickness and captivity among the Danes and eventually ends in the boy’s becoming a scribe to King Alfred.

The story is not as fast-paced as modern readers might be accustomed to, but it does have a lot of battles and exciting adventures. Fans of the books of G.A. Henty, when they have exhausted that author’s copious number of novels, would probably enjoy this story about a boy in the time of Alfred the Great of Wessex. (Did Henty write about Alfred the Great in any of his novels?) There is a sequel to The Namesake, called The Marsh King, which I would like to read. I assume the title refers to Alfred’s time in exile, a time spent hiding from the Danes in the marshes of Somerset.

Author and illustrator C. Walter Hodges was born on this date, March 18th, in 1909. In addition to this book about King Alfred the Great, Mr. Hodges illustrated three of the Landmark history series books: The Flight and Adventures of Charles II, Queen Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada, and Will Shakespeare and the Globe Theater. According to the author bio in my copy of The Namesake, Mr. Hodges once said that he wished to “continue to the end of his life in the peaceful occupation of an illustrator.” Instead, he became an author as well as an illustrator, and readers are well-served by his decision to do so.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens, again

Jan22

I finished reading Bleak House this afternoon, and although David Copperfield is still my favorite among the works of Mr. Dickens that I have read, I must say that Bleak House is quite a story. It’s a fog-infused novel, fog throughout being the sign and symbol of the people in the story and their lives as they are caught up in the fog of a very complicated and never-ending lawsuit, Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

“The lawyers have twisted it into such a state of bedevilment that the original merits of the case have long disappeared from the face of the earth. It’s about a will and the trusts under a will — or it was once. It’s about nothing but costs now. We are always appearing, and disappearing, and swearing, and interrogating, and filing, and cross-filing, and arguing, and sealing, and motioning, and referring, and reporting, and revolving about the Lord Chancellor and all his satellites, and equitably waltzing ourselves off to dusty death, about costs. That’s the great question. All the rest, by some extraordinary means, has melted away.”

It’s Shakespeare who wrote, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers” as a halfway joking solution to the country’s problems. But Dickens must have had the idea in mind when he wrote such an indictment of the damage that being caught up in the system of law and courts and chancery can do to a man’s or woman’s soul, mind, finances, and health. Several characters fall victim to the vicissitudes of the courts and of lawsuits, while others manage to hold themselves above and at least somewhat untouched by the fog and snare of placing their hopes in a successful settlement of Jarndyce and Jarndyce or any other interminable lawsuit.

“In a unique creative experiment, Dickens divides the narrative between his heroine, Esther Summerson, who is psychologically interesting in her own right, and an unnamed narrator whose perspective both complements and challenges hers.”

This double narrative echoes the many double or contrasting characters in the novel as well as the divided pairs that appear throughout the story. As I’ve already noted, the irresponsible, uncaring Skimpole is a contrast to the extremely passionate Mr. Boythorn, a butterfly versus a bull. Timid, balding, and generous, Mr. Snagsby is the opposite of the grasping, greedy opportunist, Mr. Smallweed. Mrs. Jellyby neglects her home, her husband, and her children while she spends all of her time and energy trying to care for the natives far-off Borrioboola; Her daughter Caddy Jellyby acquires a father-in-law who neglects his responsibilities by focusing on himself and his own comfort and “deportment”. Mr Jarndyce, Ester Summerson’s guardian, refuses to pay any attention the lawsuit that carries his name, but Richard, another party in the suit, becomes so obsessed with Jarndyce and Jarndyce that he loses his money and his health worrying over it. Sir Leicester Dedlock has a “family of antiquity and importance” and is said to “always contemplate his own greatness” while the poor, illiterate orphan boy Jo habitually answers any inquiry made to him with the words, “I don’t know nothink.”
Lady Dedlock is rich, bored and unhappy while Esther Summerson is relatively poor, busy, productive, and generally content. I could go on, but if you read the book you will have fun finding more contrasts between the various characters.

And what are these contrasting and complementing characters supposed to teach us? Maybe we can learn that we all run the risk of going to extremes, of our best qualities turning us into caricatures and even exaggerated hypocrites or immoderate fools. Passion is good, but too much passion about everything looks foolish (Mr. Boythorn). Charity begins at home. Good deportment or manners is less important than a good heart. Taking care of business is good, but immersing oneself in the ever-changing circumstances of a business over which one has no control (like the stock market) is a recipe for anxiety and depression. None of us really can say that we know everything or that we know “nothink”.

The contrast between Esther and Lady Dedlock says something different; it’s not about moderation as much as it is about the difference between a “good woman” and a bad one. Is there really much difference between Esther and Lady Dedlock? Is one perfect while the other is a classic fallen woman? Or are they both just women who are trying to make the best of their own circumstances, women who have been molded by the past and their own upbringing, and who make the best choices that they can make in a Victorian society/sinful world?

I’m definitely curious now to watch the miniseries, Bleak House. Since I know the basic plot of the story, I can watch for more contrasts in the TV version as well as looking to see how the actors, writers and TV producers characterize the various people in the novel. The Perfect Esther and the Ever-Generous Mr. Jarndyce as well as the Evil Mr. Tulkinghorn and the Sponging Skimpole may have more nuance and subtleties to their character in a televised production.

Well done, Mr. Dickens.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Jan15

I’m reading Bleak House by Dickens, finally. Partially inspired by the BBC TV show Dickensian, I am about two-thirds of the way through the book, and I thought I’d capture some thoughts here before they escape into the ether.

Bleak House is an odd book. One of the oddities occurs in almost the exact middle of the 740 page novel, when one of the ensemble of characters dies in a particularly weird and spectacular way: he spontaneously combusts. Spontaneous human combustion, or SHC, is a rare and controversial phenomenon in which a person catches fire and burns to death without an “apparent external source of ignition.” I thought maybe it was a Victorian superstition, but when I looked on Wikipedia there were recent reported cases cited of SHC from 2010 and 2017.I guess it’s a thing, although the explanations for the phenomenon vary.

Then, there are the characters who don’t catch on fire and turn into a pile of fat and ashes. They are odd, too. Dickens tends to use his characters to show the extremes of human personality. I’m also reading Karen Swallow Prior’s new book, On Reading Well, and she points out in her first chapter on prudence that “prudence, like all virtues is the moderation between the excess and deficiency of that virtue.” So, in Bleak House, Dickens has one character, Skimpole, who cares too little about his life, his livelihood, and his responsibilities. SKimpole is depicted as a childlike, carefree (or care-less) man who languishes about, happy and imperturbable, sponging off his friends, while sometimes being upbraided or even jailed by creditors. None of this bothers Skimpole who is content to live without any visible means of support and without caring from where the invisible means of his support, his friends, derives.

Enter Mr. Boythorn, another friend of the family at Bleak House, who has the opposite problem from Skimpole: Boythorn cares too much. He makes bombastic, exaggerated speeches throughout the book about how he would like to deal with anyone who inconveniences him. He “would have the necks of every one of them wrung, and their skulls arranged in Surgeons’ Hall for the contemplation of the whole profession.” Or he breathes “such ferocious vows as were never breathed on paper before” as to his intentions in this or that. Both men, Skimpole and Boythorn, are afflicted with a vice, an excess or deficiency of passion, but neither is very effectual in the world at taking care of his own affairs. Skimpole does nothing to take care of himself or anyone else, and Boythorn makes fantastic, exaggerated claims, threats, and promises that can’t possibly be carried out in real life while calmly feeding his bird and again, doing nothing effectual.

Neither man has the prudence that Ms. Prior defines in her book: “Prudence is the love that chooses with sagacity between that which hinders it and that which helps,” or “the perfected ability to make decisions in accordance with reality.” Mr. Skimpole lives in a fantasy world where money, and possessions, and responsibilities are inconsequential and beneath his notice, while Mr. Boythorn cares deeply about anything and everything but lives in another kind of fantasy where words and threats make reality change and get better, the louder and more violent the threat the better. I have certainly been guilty, and seen others enjoy, both kinds of fantasy, to our joint detriment, although I think the passionate speechmaker is something closer to real prudence than the sponging dilettante. At least Mr. Boythorn has a house and pays his own bills.

More on Bleak House tomorrow.

Christmas on board the Susan Constant, Thames River, England, 1607

Dec1

Young David Warren, an orphan, is sailing before the mast on His Majesty’s Ship, the Susan Constant, bound for Virginia to start a new colony, Jamestown:

“Christmas Eve, they were still wind-bound in the Thames, but David had found his sea-legs. When the cook asked for his help, he swaggered to the galley.
‘Hungry, lad?’ the cook asked.
‘Yes!’ David declared. ‘And I can eat anything that holds still!’
The cook was roasting a pig for the gentlemen aft. Even the fo’c’s’le would have baked hash and steamed pudding with raisins.
From some hiding place the crews brought out holly and evergreens to decorate the ships. That night battle lanterns flared in the riggings and fiddlers played. The men on the Discovery began to sing ‘God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen.’ David heard Jem’s voice rise, high and clear. The others stopped singing, and Jem finished the song alone.
Captain Newport lifted his trumpet and hailed the pinnace. ‘Have that man sing again!’
Jem’s voice, with a more piercing sweetness than David had ever heard before, began ‘The Coventry Carol.’
‘Lul-lay, Thou little tiny Child . . .’
Blindly, David turned and edged his way aft to a place of hiding in the shadow of the high poop. He crouched there, shuddering. All the Christmas Eves he had ever known, all his memories of his father, tore at his throat. He heard footsteps, and fought to stifle his sobs. He bit his hand until he tasted blood.”

from This Dear-Bought Land by Jean Latham.

The Royal Rabbits of London by Santa and Simon Sebag Montefiore

Oct16

Royal Rabbits suffers from being somewhat cliche-ridden, with Hallmark greeting card dialog being thrown around like popcorn, but it definitely has its moments. For instance, the Queen’s corgi dogs aka The Pack, who are the Royal Rabbits’ rivals and nemeses, are named for infamous women of the past: Agrippina, Messalina, Livia, Lucrezia, Imelda, Lady Macbeth, Jezebel, Moll, and Helmsley. (Why are they all females?) And the rats are named Baz, Grimbo, and Splodge. Good naming, huh?

Caught between The Pack and the Ratzis, their other ancient enemies, the Royal Rabbits must protect the Queen of England and her royal family at all costs. Can Shylo, a small, simple country bunny, help the Royal Rabbits protect their queen from the evil machinations of the paparazzi Ratzis? This story reads like a Disney romp, complete with a chase scene, greasy rat villains, a small but brave hero (Shylo), and even a Disney-esque pep talk for Shylo at about midpoint in the story:

“Shylo, you found your way here, didn’t you? I don’t see the weary little rabbit who stands before me, but the brave Knight you may one day rise to be. My brother saw something in you, otherwise he would not have sent you on the dangerous journey to find us. I see it, too. Courage, my dear bunkin, courage. You’re braver than you know.”

Santa Montefiore and Simon Sebag Montefiore are husband and wife, parents to two children for whom they made up the stories of the rabbits who lived under Buckingham Palace. Simon is a well-known historian and novelist. I can definitely see this book made into an animated feature film. So, it’s a perfect match for fans of Disney and Disney-esque storytelling. And for real fans, there are three more Royal Rabbits books: Escape from the Tower, The Great Diamond Chase, and Escape from the Palace (January, 2019).

Amazon Affiliate. If you click on a book cover here to go to Amazon and buy something, I receive a very small percentage of the purchase price.
This book also may be nominated for a Cybil Award, but the views expressed here are strictly my own and do not reflect or determine the judging panel’s opinions.

Coot Club by Arthur Ransome

Aug14

This book is Swallows and Amazons, Book #5, but it contains none of the original Swallows or the Amazons. So, if you’re looking for Swallows John, Susan, Titty, and Roger or for Amazons Nancy and Peggy Blackett, you’ll have to skip this book. But don’t.

In Coot Club, The D’s, Dick and Dot learn to sail. In Winter Holiday the D’s were introduced, and they were able to have some grand adventures on the ice, but no sailing. In this book, Dick and Dot go to visit a family friend, Mrs. Barrable, on her boat in the north of England, downriver from Wroxham on the River Bure.

“Arthur Ransome visited Wroxham in the 1930s. In his book Coot Club (1934) he describes the busy scene on the river at Wroxham Bridge with numerous boats – a wherry, punts, motor cruisers and sailing yachts – jostling for a mooring.” ~Wikipedia, Wroxham.

When they arrive at Mrs. Barrable’s boat, the Teasel, the D’s, who were expecting to spend their visit sailing up and down the river, find out that Mrs. Barrable has invited them strictly to keep her company, not enough crew for sailing a boat the size of the Teasel. The disappointment is crushing, especially since Dorothy and Dick were hoping to return to the Lake District and the Swallows and Amazons as seasoned sailors. Nevertheless, Dick and Dot determine to make the best of their visit, and DIck is particularly interested in bird-watching. At the beginning of the story, on the train, they meet a local boy, Tom Dudgeon, and they soon find that he is the key to all sorts of adventures. Tom has a small boat of his own, the Titmouse, and even more importantly, Tom is a member of the Bird Protection Society aka the Coot Club, and he and his friends Port and Starboard, along with three boys nicknamed “The Death and Glories”, are particularly concerned with the birds called coots who are nesting along the river.

When Tom and the twins Port and Starboard and the Death and Glories all get together with Dick and Dot and Mrs. Barrable, sailing becomes not only possible but absolutely necessary since Tom has gotten into trouble while protecting the coots nest from a bunch of Hullabaloos, rude and careless holiday boaters, reminiscent of characters out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. The Hullabaloos are searching for the boy who cast their boat adrift in the night. Tom is in hiding from the Hullabloos and their noisy boat with its incessant phonograph playing pop hits of the 1930’s. Dick and Dot simply want to learn to sail. And Mrs. Barrable turns out to have an adventurous spirit, too, despite her age.

If you’ve read other Swallows and Amazons adventures and if what appeals is the sailing and the “simply messing about in boats”, then Coot Club has that aspect in spades. It’s also got Port and Starboard to stand in for the Blackett girls, Dick with his knack for coming up with inventive ideas, Dot and her stories, and a new hero, Tom, who’s the classic plucky English schoolboy adventurer.

I’ve already read number six in this series of books, Pigeon Post, which features Dick and Dot together again with the Swallows and Amazons, but again no sailing. So, my next book is #7, We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea.