Enid's portrayal of fathers

[black labrador]

Per Barbara Stoney's biography, Enid was very fond of her father and had a more difficult relationship with her mother.

So why does Enid portray fathers so negatively in her books? I'm conscious that fathers were much less involved with their children when she was writing than they are today, but the likes of Uncle Quentin, Mr Lynton, Mr Trotteville seem to have little interest in their children and focus exclusively on their work.

[Lucky Star]

It seems to me more the case that Enid generally ignored the fathers (with the exception of Uncle Quentin). Perhaps she felt wholly happy with the father role and wanted to create a warm, loving Mother relationship to replace what she herself had never had?

[Kitty]

Perhaps if the fathers were very involved, most of the stories would never get started? Think there's a good mix of fathers generally in Enid, though. From a slightly weak hypocrite like Gwen's, to Darrell's rather fab dad, to Jo's or Margery's, who have to learn as much - or more than - their daughters.

Actually, some critics moan at Enid for the 2.4 sunny family stuff, but it is much more complex than they give her credit for. Like Angela's father, who seems ok, but messed up when he married the wrong woman. I don't mind Mr Trotteville, who seems to like his son, but agree about Mr Lynton - awful! Bill is probably the perfect children's book dad, though.

[Fiona1986]

There are other 'good' dads too. Think of Dads from house-at-the-corner, red roofs, green meadows, six cousins and of course Barney's long lost dad.

[pete9012S]

Great thread idea!

I hadnt thought about it before,but the little article featured in the link below offers some plausable explanations why fathers/ parents in the post war generation Enid wrote in 'seemed' more aged/mature in the eyes of their children!


http://www.barryoneoff.co.uk/html/1950s_lifestyle.html" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Regards
Pete

[Dick Kirrin]

Most interesting article, Pete.
Maybe Enid was aware of that in her subconscious, as she hardly ever mentions the war, and if she does she doesn't give it much room.

There might be a more practical reason for the way she described many fathers. If a character like Mr Lynton or Uncle Quentin had taken more interest in the children, how could they have gone off on their own to explore dangerous going-ons? Every adult in his or her right mind would have stopped them and rightly so.
So there could either be no adventures, or the children would be forced to lie to their parents. This is a despiceable thing to do in EB's morals, so her child heroes cannot do it.

Remember Richard Kent not asking his mother's permission to join the Five on their cycling tour. When finally the truth comes to light, he's in for a serious telling off by Julian and George. Interesting that THEY don't need to ask Mr Luffy's permission to explore the tunnels... .

The same goes for the "Barney" gang. Barney's father is a nice and likeable character about whom we learn that he was an adventurous type in his day, too. How else could he have met Barney's mum? Whether it is his experience from these days that makes him an understanding father is up to speculation, but to me it would make sense.

Cheers

Dick Kirrin

[Anita Bensoussane]

Perhaps if the fathers were very involved, most of the stories would never get started?

Good point.

I agree with others that, although there are stereotypical (for that era) distant, irritable and work-focussed middle-class fathers in Blyton books, such as Mr. Lynton, there's a good mixture of fathers overall. In the Adventurous Four books Andy works alongside his fisherman father, while the father of the Carlton children in Those Dreadful Children feels sorry that his prim and proper children don't want to accompany him on long country walks. In The Six Bad Boys we see Mr. MacKenzie making plans with his wife for their daughter Pat's birthday, and not only his own children but Bob from next door help him make a model ship (if I remember correctly). The short stories give us occasional glimpses of fathers interacting with their children, such as 'Adventure for Two' (Anytime Tales), in which a daddy who sounds like a grown up Fatty says to Jack and Mary, "I rather thought I'd go to the bakery and have one of those chocolate ice-creams of theirs. But you know how I hate eating ice-creams alone." His children are delighted and get ready to accompany him, with Jack exclaiming, "You're a brick, Daddy!"

[Viv of Ginger Pop]

The Christmas Book is daddy centred - and he is depicted in military uniform.

Viv

ps Just noticed - I've passed the 1000 posting!

[Anita Bensoussane]

The Christmas Book is daddy centred - and he is depicted in military uniform.

Until you said that, Viv, I hadn't thought of The Christmas Book as being a Wartime book but I just checked in the Cave and it was published in 1944. Is the War mentioned in the book at all (I've only read it once and I can't remember) or is the military uniform a detail that illustrator Treyer Evans decided to put in?

[Ming]

One of the most interesting fathers in canon is Uncle Quentin the scientist. I love how Enid depicted him! The best fathers were in the one-off novels - Six Bad Boys, House-at-the-Corner, The Family at Red-Roofs, Six Cousins... They tend to be hardworking, honest, fun loving and with valuable lessons to teach.

The worst has to be Mr Lynton - "Why is dad so mouldy today?" (Was mouldy the word?)

[Anita Bensoussane]

Yes, "mouldy" was the word, at the beginning of The Rilloby Fair Mystery. I love that book - it sparkles with humour.

Another good father is the father of Rory, Sheila, Benjy and Penny in the Willow Farm books. He sometimes takes the children on walks around the farm and explains things to them, and lets them help out with the work. When the children's friend Mark (More Adventures on Willow Farm) accidentally leaves a gate open so that some of the horses escape, the farmer makes sure the boy understands the seriousness of the situation but also tries to cheer him up, reassuring him that the occasional mistake is not the end of the world: "Leaving a gate open is a very small thing, but unfortunately small things have a way of leading to bigger things. An open gate - wandering cattle or horses - maybe damage done by them to be paid for - loss of hours of their labour - loss of our time looking for them. It all means a pretty big bill when you add it up. But we all make mistakes, Mark - and providing we learn our lessons and don't make the same mistakes twice, we shan't do so badly. Don't worry too much about it. You can't afford to be careless on a farm. Those horses will turn up sooner or later, so cheer up!"

Later in the book, when Rory (having been given a fair amount of responsibility on the farm under the guidance of his father) takes it into his head to burn a stubble field by himself and nearly burns down some sheds in the process, his father talks to him frankly, accepting some of the blame himself: "You were very much to blame. But I was to blame too! I've forgotten you were only a lad of fourteen, and I've made you think yourself a man. Well - you're not. You're just a lad yet - and a very good one too! But you've behaved like a man tonight, in coming to me like this, and telling me everything."

In the final chapter, the farmer speaks of how proud he is of his children and of how glad he is that the family moved from London to Willow Farm: "I've seen you all grow healthy and strong. I've seen you doing work that matters. I've watched you learning good lessons as you handle the animals and help to till the soil. You've had to use your muscles and you've had to use your brains. You've grown up complete and whole, with no nonsense in you. I'm proud of you all."

Some of Enid Blyton's nature books feature characters like Uncle Merry and Uncle Nat, who take children on countryside rambles and teach them about nature. Although not fathers, they are father-figures. While writing these stories, Enid Blyton may well have been recalling the nature walks she went on with her own beloved father as a child.

[Ming]

Yes, "mouldy" was the word, at the beginning of The Rilloby Fair Mystery. I love that book - it sparkles with humour.

I re-read the book last week and I just noticed that in my Award paperback, the word has been changed to "miserable"!

[Anita Bensoussane]

Alterations like that annoy me as they take some of the liveliness and colour out of Enid Blyton's writing.

[Kitty]

Alterations like that annoy me as they take some of the liveliness and colour out of Enid Blyton's writing.

I completely agree with you. It is actually very depressing to read about thing like that.

[Clare]

I wonder how the widower, Professor Hayling, copes with juggling raising a son and a monkey, and being a scatty scientist.