The Swallows and Amazons Series

Notes:

Like those of their near-contemporary The Chronicles of Narnia, the twelve books in the Swallows & Amazons series have continued to be published since their first editions between 1930 and 1945. Yet this series' penetration among young people is far less. Which is perhaps understandable as we'll see below, but is a shame nonetheless. Both series have a perennial value both for their storytelling and for the virtues they assume. I've no idea what the statistics are overall, but a quick survey of boys at the club I help to run shows that most of them have read at least one of the Narnia stories and some several, while none has done more than dip their toe into the waters of the Swallows and Amazons series. Likewise among adults of my acquaintaince: very few have read any of the Arthur Ransome series.

I'm not especially interested in a comparison between the two very different series, but it is interesting to speculate what there is in the one which is not in the other. An obvious starting point is the lengths of the individual books. In the similar-format editions beside me, The Last Battle runs to 170 pages while Coot Club clocks in at 340. Swallowdale comes in at 500 pages while the longest Narnia book seems to be Prince Caspian with 180 pages. What of it? Any number of books run to more pages than that. Even ignoring Harry Potter which is always in a league of its own, Ark Angel — the only Alex Rider I have to hand — is pretty much the same size as Coot Club (although the print is more widely spaced and the style certainly racier). And a quick glance at the other books on the shelf shows that, if anything, modern day youth bestsellers are at least as long as the Arthur Ransome's old-timers.

So what doesn't appeal? If you will permit me a generalisation, I would say that boys are usually attracted by action-based books, the more so if they're juiced up with technology and a certain amount of voyeurism of one sort or another. Girls are more attracted by character-based books, but are especially drawn to “relationship” stories, specifically romances or at least casual love-interests, the more so if they're sprinkled with glamour. Swallows and Amazons has neither. (While Narnia has a smattering of both, at least in potency). As a series Swallows & Amazons represents a simpler, less phrenetic world. And while it may be true that we'd like the children in our care to be attracted more than they are by the innocence of such a world, it's very hard to make that so.

Are youngsters are more attracted by books which explore a world they already know, or by books which represent something unfamiliar? Some of the most popular books, Harry Potter and Alex Rider being obvious examples, neatly combine the two: the familiar school setting with friendships and rivalries, but with a veneer of magical or high-tech adventure. It seems that the world that the children of Swallows & Amazons move in is a far remove from the experience of most young people. There is occasional mention of school or families, but by and large the children live in a lightly supervised world of outdoor pursuits. A world without any technology — I don't even remember a radio — and where responsibility for the younger ones lies on the shoulders of the older children. Will this world appeal or appal?

I admit that I did not find myself drawn to these books as a child. My father had most of the stories in the original green hardback editions, and I tried a few times but failed to get into them. It was only as an adult, and then only when I saw one particular edition whose cover illustration caught my eye, that I started to read them and to enjoy the world they portray. Obviously, no one book or series is going to please everyone. But I believe that series like Swallows & Amazons would represent a breath of fresh air to many children. And that, in spite of the slight unfamiliarity of their style, they would not be too demanding or challenging. Perhaps there's even a case for reading them out loud to younger children: certainly there's nothing untoward whatsoever in the books, only a few very slightly frightening episodes, such as when the children get carried out to sea (a story I'd keep for older readers).

A footnote: it's faintly amusing that, although the fame of this series lies ostensibly in its portrayal of sailing in the Lake District, only one of the books in the series — the first — is actually mostly about sailing in the Lakes. The others either don't involve much sailing (Pigeon Post, Winter Holiday, Swallowdale) or aren't set in the Lakes (Coot Club, Great Northern, Peter Duck) or both (Missee Lee, Secret Water).