Reconsidering Lovelock

When Julian Lovelock's Swallows, Amazons and Coots was first published (2016) I was pleased to see a new academic analysis of Ransome's canon to join Peter Hunt's Approaching Arthur Ransome and the various PhD thesis on his novels such as Hazel Sheeky Bird's Camping and Tramping, Swallows and Amazons: Interwar Children’s Fiction and the Search for England amongst others. On reading Lovelock's work this anticipation of pleasure became something of a disappointment as can be seen in my review on Amazon UK and the extended version of it that is available on the All Things Ransome Website (Lovelock Review.)

Though I admit there was much of the analysis in Lovelock's book I disagreed with, there were some aspects I did not. In an attempt, in the academic manner, to give a more considered view I have read the book again, and this time as I did so I made extensive notes, both in support and disagreement of his views to clarify my thoughts.

This paper is a further discussion of Lovelock’s book and my views on the some of the points he raises. It is not exhaustive, I found the more I read (including comparing some of his views with those of others) I realised I would probably end up with enough material for a volume of my own.

-----

There is one particular recurring aspect of Julian Lovelock’s analysis of the Swallows and Amazons series of novels by Arthur Ransome that I found very difficult to understand and come to terms with, this was his insistence that each of the novels has quite extensive comic elements, some he claims even having 'visual comedy', though how this is possible in a written work I find, as a concept, difficult to grasp.

As a regular reader of the Ransome canon for around fifty-five years, both for pleasure and latterly in serious consideration, during that time, even as a child, I have yet to encounter anything I would describe as 'comedy'. Yes, the occasional humorous remark or incident that brings a slight smile to mind but nothing to evoke a 'laugh out loud' reaction as Lovelock says it does for him (p. 193.) Peter Hunt in his book Approaching Arthur Ransome agrees with the analysis of Fred Inglis in his work The Promise of Happiness – 'Ransome takes life seriously, unselfconsciously so...' (quoted in Hunt p. 86), and in Hunt’s own discussion of William, the pug, in Coot Club he states 'This is about the only occasion in the whole canon where Ransome indulges in his sense of whimsy...' (Hunt p. 127.)

Throughout the chapters in Lovelock's book there are fifty or so references to what he considers the comic or humorous aspects to Ransome's novels, many of those cited are, in my view, a misrepresentation of what Ransome is writing about and so trying to convey to his readers.

There is always a difficulty in discussing humour of any kind, with it being one of those subjects that are beyond objectivity. It is well known that what appeals to one person’s sense of humour can do nothing for another's. In my own case this applies to slapstick comedy and any humour that has the intention to belittle or underhandedly insult someone, or exploits a weakness in them - these fail as humour for me on all counts. This does not mean, of course, I don't find things funny, far from it. I was fortunate, in my view, to have grown up in the tail end of the era of The Goon Show and Tony Hancock on the radio, then on through the years of Monty Python and their ilk on television.

I am well aware that many would be mystified by this, just as I am in why others find the likes of Laurel and Hardy or Charlie Chaplin in any way amusing.  Additionally, I find some modern examples of humour funny that I realise are something of a mystery to many people much younger than myself.

Even allowing for the notion that people have different ideas as to what constitutes 'comic', ‘humorous’ or 'funny' I feel that Lovelock's analysis in this aspect of Ransome’s work is misplaced; his characters are all children growing up and trying to deal with the world around them, their difficulties maybe minor compared to those many of us have had to contend with as children and adults, but they still have to be dealt with.

Some adults have such lives as this, whilst others seem to be free of such things. For example, I had a great aunt on my mother's side of the family who went through life with comparative ease. In her old age she once said to my mother that she would quite happily live her life over again without any changes. Whereas my mother, who was middle-aged when this conversation took place, thus far had a life that was tinged with tragedy – death of her only sibling in war-time, death of her first born child when he was only ten years old in a road accident and then widowed in her early forties. My great aunt clearly could not comprehend why my mother, through these circumstances, had a different view from herself.

It has never struck me in all my readings of the canon there was a possibility Ransome wrote with the intention of being humorous, and when I raised the topic on TarBoard (the long established Ransome Online forum) some of the comments in response seemed to suggest I was not alone in this view. For me, in his novels, Ransome actually wanted to show that there was a great deal of seriousness in the lives of children, as there had been in his own childhood. Lovelock points out in his introduction ‘His [Ransome’s] childhood was not a happy one, … at the age of nine, Ransome was enrolled at a boarding preparatory school, … it was a disaster, and young Arthur was bullied and lonely.’ (p. 3.) There is another, and to me unrealistic, view of childhood as being a period of one's life free of troubles of whatever kind that has been perpetuated from the mid-twentieth century with the comment that has become something of a cliché - ‘School days are the happiest days of your life’. Thankfully, there is more recognition that this is not the case for a significant number of children whom long to escape to the world of adulthood, they may not be much happier in doing so but at least they have been able to leave their childhood behind. As Hunt comments in his discussion of the character's emotional lives '...one might suspect, Ransome was a shrewd child psychologist.' (Hunt p. 85.)

As a child reader of Ransome, for me, amongst his books attractions were the lack of detailed descriptions of time spent at school, no negative heavy-handed interferences by adults, no 'teasing', no harassment and related emotional difficulties that many children have to suffer, including failing to be taken seriously by adults and being belittled by other children. This is made clear in Great Northern? by Roger’s reaction to being mocked by the young McGinty. As Lovelock points out ‘…he leaves the mocking message ‘THE SLEEPING BEAUTY’ that so angers Roger.’ (p.204.)

Ransome's ability to identify with children and express feelings they may be having rather than writing directly for them, is one of a number of aspects that makes him stand out as an author of books that may include children amongst their readers. This aspect of Ransome's style has clear connections, explored by Lovelock and others, with his own childhood and the loss of his father. Despite being a child, in the broadest sense, he learnt from an early age that life is a serious business and has to be dealt with, and occasionally it just had to be endured.

Even whilst being unaware of Ransome’s background as a young reader I immersed myself in his books, and was richly rewarded with an alternative childhood that fulfilled some of my emotional needs at the time for around a year or so. It also gave me a broad knowledge of many subjects that still serves me well today, Ransome’s ability to describe things and explain how they work has influenced many of his readers, and some of those who are now well known individuals acknowledge this role he played in their own childhoods.

A further attraction of Ransome's books is that the adventures the children have are (with the obvious exceptions of those in Peter Duck, Missee Lee and possibly Great Northern?) all rooted in the realms of possibility. Yet in his introduction Lovelock refers to the characters exploring a 'dressing up box' (p. 13) and being involved in 'the make-believe of games.' (p. 22.) On reading this I was reminded of Wittgenstein’s discussion on defining ‘games’ ‘How should we explain to someone what a game is?’ (Philosophical Investigations p.33) and he then goes on at some length of the difficulties in doing so.

For me, the characters do not posses a 'dressing up box' and what happens in the books are not 'games', they are not pre-planned or engineered by the children themselves or the adults that assist them in doing so just for enjoyment as games are usually perceived. They make plans of how to spend their time and sometimes those plans are thwarted by circumstances (on the few occasions they are hindered by adults it is not with malicious intent, as an example Great Aunt Maria in Swallowdale and The Picts and The Martyrs acts out of what she believes to be the 'right' thing to do in looking after her nieces, albeit quite forcefully.) Lovelock views this from a different perspective, he describes each of the books beginning with a disappointment which then is overcome, he sees this as '...one of the gateways through which the children enter an imaginary world where they leave the everyday world behind and, to them, their games become real.' (p. 184.) My reasoning here is, that if you believe they move to an 'imaginary world' then we have to assume they are still involved in 'games'. In a complete contrast to Lovelock Hunt describes what they do (their adventures)  '… [As] 'real'; they live in a recognizable world with recognizable laws and values.' (Hunt p. 14.)

Throughout his book Lovelock seems, as many of us long-standing readers are, occasionally somewhat confused and troubled by the nature of Nancy as a character. I have explored some aspects of Nancy’s character myself in a previous paper, and concluded that as she has no basis in reality, being a pure invention on Ransome’s part, this makes her different from all the others. It also means that sometimes Ransome even contradicts himself in how she is portrayed. Early on Lovelock states ‘Captain Nancy is a tomboy…’ (p. 32) and that and that her behaviour can become marked by ‘…over-familiarity and rudeness…’ (p. 32). The notion of Nancy as merely a ‘tomboy’ I have also discussed before and I feel that this description is usually nothing more than an easy ‘get out’ for those that have not read the books in any depth and tend to lump her in with characters of lesser children’s literature, such as that of Enid Blyton, where a 'strong' female has to be explained in some way as they go against what is socially acceptable at the time the author is writing. Obviously, Lovelock does not fall in to this category so it is somewhat surprising he uses this term against type.

Nancy is a very complex character, as Lovelock observes ‘…Nancy is frequently more emotionally aware and more farsighted than her companions.’ (p. 48.) In Winter Holiday it is she that is immediately accepting of the Ds joining the polar expedition, whereas somewhat surprisingly, the Swallows have their doubts  – ‘…Dorothea overhears the always generous Nancy arguing for their inclusion.’ (p.74, my emphasis).

As for Nancy being rude, certainly she is indeed often direct and outspoken but nearly always because she knows in her own mind that she is right. She will not be deterred from making her point or standing her ground when dealing with adults, in particular, those who tend to dismiss children in such situations without listening to or considering their point of view. To accuse a child of rudeness when they show an adult it is they who have been in the wrong, is a far too easy reaction of some adults both now and more so at the time Ransome was writing. As Lovelock puts it '...Nancy often proves herself to be the most considerate and empathetic of the older children.' (p. 109.)

A further aspect of Nancy that makes her such a complex character is that she is the eldest of the children, just slightly older than John as far a we can ascertain. By the time of their adventure recounted in Great Northern? takes place she would be sixteen years old, about to move from childhood to adulthood, a move that may of course have already occurred, and a very significant change for any young woman. As Lovelock observes of the previous novel 'Nancy, now aged fifteen, hovers uncomfortably between childhood and adulthood...' (p. 186.) Of course, age is no indicator of maturity or depth of knowledge (my great aunt that I referred to earlier lived in to her seventies but still behaved as if a rather naïve, somewhat ignorant teenage girl.)

In his analysis of The Picts and the Martyrs Lovelock makes two very salient points about Nancy – ‘Throughout the Swallows and Amazons series we have seen glimpses of Nancy’s sensitivity.’ (p. 194) and ‘Was the Great Aunt also an overbearing pirate in her youth who has been left unloved and embittered? Is this what will happen to Nancy in her turn?’ (p. 196). I would argue we have seen more than just 'glimpses' and I am reasonably confident through my own readings in stating that Nancy will not end up ‘unloved’, certainly she will always be loved by her fellows (if we can allow ourselves to extrapolate from their characters we are provided with by Ransome.) Had Ransome been able to let his characters grow older in to the early years of adulthood, the life of Nancy would have been the most interesting and given him the greatest scope as a novelist, again being a creation entirely of his imagination.

Another skill that Ransome has as a writer also leads many to make interpretations of his work, to me, often erroneously. In this manner Lovelock attempts to analyse the books to show how they reflect colonialism, Empire and the ‘loss’ of the way of life that existed in England (and again I will use this deliberately despite three of the books being set elsewhere) at the time he was writing about (the early nineteen-thirties.) In Swallows and Amazons and Swallowdale the children refer to themselves as ‘explorers’ and in all the books, other than the meta-fictions, describe the local people they encounter as ‘natives’. Even Nancy and Peggy take on this usage to talk of people they have grown up with!

In Swallows and Amazons the Swallows do regard the island on their arrival as being unexplored and so available to be, in a sense, ‘taken’ (in more recent readings I have concluded that prior to Commander Walker giving his permission for the expedition, Mrs Walker had already made arrangements for them to go camping there and probably had contact with Mrs Blackett, as the impression is given in later books that her family ‘own’ the island.) The Swallow children are all familiar with the plots of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe and Stevenson's Treasure Island (Titty particularly so), and perceive the island in the lake in the same way as Stevenson and Defoe did their islands. For the Swallows, perhaps naively, the island is an 'undiscovered country' (though clearly not in the sense Hamlet uses the phrase in Act III scene I of Hamlet.) It is a place to be explored, mapped and named because for them it has not been done before. As far as they are aware nobody lives there or knows anything about it, and when they encounter the Amazons it then becomes very clear to them they are not the first. Though this is something of a disappointment it does not deter them from mapping and so naming its geographical features, even negotiating with the Amazons over such matters, and continuing to make it their temporary home. When the Swallows arrive, not that it was ever their intention, there are no resources to be plundered, no native peoples to rule over or oppress, the usual activities of colonisation

The two main geographical districts of England that Ransome set his novels, the Lake District and the Norfolk and Suffolk Broads, both have at various times suffered with an over-popularity by tourists that has led to physical damage to the landscape and disruption of the way of life of those that are members of families who have lived and worked there for generations. The Broads in particular, had in the 1930s (the time Ransome was writing about) seen the introduction of motor cruisers for holiday hire, which changed the whole nature of the area from the days when it was purely populated with sailing vessels. It is this change that Ransome was not happy about, and he drew attention to it through Coot Club and The Big Six, a problem that would continue in to the 1960s and 1970s. This was not some view through rose-tinted spectacles hankering for a probably non-existent golden age; Ransome was concerned about the damage to the area in many senses but for the natural world in particular. Both books alerted people to this danger, as Lovelock points out in his analysis of the discussion in The Big Six between Tom, the Death and Glories and the eel man Harry Bangate (p. 155-6), Ransome was not reflecting on the loss of Empire etc. despite the description of the photographs and news cuttings in Bangate’s vessel, but the preservation of the countryside that was clearly under threat from the increase of motorised river traffic used by visitors.

When it comes to politics and the implied references in the novels, as Lovelock quotes Paul Foot’s discussion of Ransome and to politics in the books ‘The subject simply doesn’t arise.’ (p. 11) yet despite this for Lovelock it does seem to be there in the background '...the resolutely middle-class writer of what can seem to resolutely middle-class and imperialist tales.' (p. 10.) Ransome’s political views are difficult to perceive, in his journalist days he worked for a left-of-centre newspaper (The Manchester Guardian) and obviously took a great interest in the Russian Revolution which would enable us to place him roughly in a position on the political spectrum if we made some broad assumptions. Yet on his return to the UK with Evgenia it seems from his writings, both public and his private letters, that politics were a thing of the past in his life. This makes it very difficult to relate what happens in the novels to his political views, and perhaps a dangerous path to take. As Lovelock explains referring to a note in Ransome’s MI5 file that states ‘He has, I think, no special political views.’ (p. 7.)

Finally, Lovelock devotes a great deal of his analysis to the role of Dick and Dorothea in the books, and of Dorothea in particular. Both characters have their basis in aspects of the person Ransome had strived to become - the knowledgeable, practical expert and the novelist. It is interesting, to me at least, that Lovelock describes the Ds as ‘…not children to whom one immediately warms.’ (p. 71.) Hunt's view is very different 'Dorothea, is one of Ransome's masterstrokes. She … lives a happily conscious double life, paraphrasing the reality around her into the worst of clichés of 'ordinary' children's books... Together the D's provide a refreshing and not always flattering gloss on the Swallows and Amazons...' (Hunt p. 72.)  As a child, when I first read Winter Holiday, I identified with them both straight away and the book still remains my favourite of the novels. Aspects of the two of them were everything I was in some ways, outsiders, having a need to be included, but as I mentioned before, they only started out in that position until Nancy encouraged their acceptance in to the collective adventures overruling the misgivings of the others.

Dorothea sees almost everything through novelist’s eyes and we are told of her written observations, her own writing is not of great quality (from the snippets we are given) as she has yet to develop as a writer, but she has a vivid imagination that is triggered by the smallest events. Ransome does on occasions use her works to show the shortcomings of other writers, but mainly he uses her as a device to explain to us the reader what he is seeing as the invisible observer.

One of the biggest surprises with regard to Dorothea is her role in The Big Six. When all seems lost as the local members of the Coot Club are under suspicion from nearly all the adult characters for criminal activity, it is she who believes in their innocence and organises them all to work to prove it - '...the chief interest in the novel lies in the way they encounter the injustices and prejudices of adults rather than in their individual characters.' (p. 151.) Not only does Dorothea organise the others she has to deal with some opposition from within, as Lovelock puts it '… [she] takes charge, lightly shouldering Tom into the background … [T]he Death and Glories may be sceptical, and sometimes resentful, but they are swept along by her newfound confidence.' (p. 160.) I don't see it as a 'newfound' confidence on Dorothea's part, it is just that she has at last an opportunity to show her strengths; as Hunt views it '… the sole girl in the cast masterminds the operation …' (Hunt p. 133.) In Winter Holiday and Coot Club she is the newcomer and to a degree both in awe of those she meets and reluctant to put her abilities in to action.

There is an irony in that Ransome, who is often wrongly perceived by some as a 'masculine' writer telling stories of 'male' activities, should have two central characters over the twelve books that are female – Nancy and Dorothea. To add to this irony the two of them are the strongest of the children, in the broadest sense, and the most adult-like. Though Susan takes on the domestic tasks of mother and wife, it is always clear to the reader that this is just a role she has been assigned, or has regularly confirmed, by 'real' adults in the way they positively speak to her or of her.

Nancy is not only in 'command' as the senior part owner of the Amazon, but in that she controls the activities of all the books she appears in. Dorothea on the other hand may not always act like an adult but she views the events around her as if she was one, this is reflected in her writing. In her observations of the world around, she always takes what she sees as having the potential as source material for her novels.

We know from Ransome's autobiography, his collected letters and Brogan's biography that there were always strong women in his life. The most important ones of course being his mother and his, in their different ways, two wives, but not always in a positive way. He also had many female friends, many of whom he proposed to, again who had their own strengths, which influenced him.

Once again I find myself concluding that there is still much to be gleaned and written about Ransome’s canon, and that it is remarkable a series of twelve novels written over eighty years ago, ostensibly for children, still manages to generate so much interest and serious analysis. In comparison Malcolm Saville, a near contemporary of Ransome, wrote twenty-two novels in his Lone Pine series and many others as well. It is also clear there are still many areas of Ransome's works and achievement to be explored and for us enthusiasts to disagree over, but never in ways that will deflect any of us from our long held interest.