The Mystery of the Vanished Prince
by Enid Blyton (Methuen, 1951)
An odd instalment in which the Find-Outers do very little investigating. (Pip finds one lucky clue and they stumble upon people who explain the mystery!) The modern reader cannot help feeling uncomfortable at the children’s casual assumptions of social and racial superiority.
The Professionals #9: No Stone
by Ken Blake (Sphere, 1981)
Another two episodes novelised by Kenneth Bulmer under the publisher’s house pseudonym. The book has the feel of having been dashed off, and relies heavily on readers being familiar with the characters and format. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose. Simple, action-packed nostalgia.
Tintin: The Black Island
by Hergé (Methuen, 1966); trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner
The Boy’s Own adventuring kicks in on page one and doesn’t let up. Typical of the early volumes, Tintin tangles repeatedly with armed crooks and survives only through incredible luck and bravery, albeit that Hergé also pens a joyous outpouring of slapstick.
Planet of the Warlord
by Douglas Hill (Victor Gollancz, 1981)
A rousing conclusion to the Last Legionary quartet. Having re-established Keill Randor’s preternatural combat abilities, Hill plunges his protagonist into genuine defeat and despair, thence to rise again (aided by his alien friend Glr) and face one last set of impossible odds.
The Phantom Tollbooth
by Norton Juster; ill. Jules Feiffer (Epstein & Carroll, 1961)
A fantastical middle-grade adventure full of warped notions and pun-based distortions of reality. Juster’s young protagonist is disinterested in the rigours of real-world learning but comes, through outlandish experience, to appreciate words and numbers. Feiffer’s illustrations prevent the dreamscape from becoming overwhelming.
The Cybil War
by Betsy Byars (Viking Children’s, 1981)
A middle-grade story of first love, and of recognising and dealing with a toxic friendship. Byars grounds her writing with small details and the tragicomic ironies of real life. The result is downhearted yet somehow still easy to read, and ultimately cathartic.
The Mystery of the Invisible Thief
by Enid Blyton (Methuen, 1950)
A high point of the series. In retrospect, the denouement is obvious—not least of all because Blyton has twisted a plot contrivance from the previous two books!—but the clues are cleverly seeded and remain overlooked amidst a resplendence of Goon-baiting.
Reality Forbidden
by Philip E. High (Robert Hale, 1967)
A sinister, mind-rattling concept explored by the wrong author. High’s ideas are laid down seemingly as and when they occurred to him, which, even coming from the era of pulp, fails to impress. Eric Frank Russell would have made this a masterpiece.
The Valley of Fear
by Arthur Conan Doyle (George H. Doran, 1915); audiobook read by Stephen Fry (ABC/Audible, 2018)
In essence, two largely unconnected novellas. The first sees Holmes in fine form, his aura only enhanced by Inspector MacDonald’s shining a lesser light of uncommon strength. The second is an engaging enough story of Freemason gang activity in lawless north-east America.
The Gods Must Be Crazy II
dir. Jamie Uys (1989)
Although lacking the surprise value and thematic elegance of the original, this sequel manages to be both faster and funnier, committing fully to its slapstick and the humorous situational comedy of non-natives adrift in the Kalahari. Cleverly filmed with many memorable scenes.