Monday, October 8, 2007
Re-collecting Enid Blyton books
In Part Two of "To collect or not to collect, that is the question" I wanted to explain in more detail why I began re-collecting Enid Blyton books, and more specifically what made me transition from paperbacks to vintage hardbacks. This might be of some use to anyone else starting a collection.
As the Enid Blyton bug re-ignited in me back around Christmas 2004, my first thoughts were for the Mystery series featuring the Five Find-Outers and Dog. I had to have them again! Trouble is, I couldn't exactly dive into my parents' cupboard-under-the-stairs because I now live 4000 miles away in the USA; besides, I honestly thought all my old books were long gone. As it happened, my parents were coming to visit for Christmas, so I ordered a set of 15 Egmont paperback editions from Amazon.co.uk and had them delivered to my parents, thus saving on shipping. (This was before I was aware of Navrang, who could have sold me the same books for less and had them delivered to me for $3.99.)
So my parents brought the books over with them, and I was pleased as punch. I started reading and reviewing them in January 2005, and thus EnidBlyton.net was born and my pages about the Five Find-Outers took shape.
As I finished the Mystery series I bought the newest available set of eight Adventure books, then the 21 Famous Fives. By this time I was starting to have doubts about the wisdom of buying new paperbacks. Already I'd picked up on many, many textual changes — some I discovered after fellow readers pointed out the differences to their own versions, and others I just guessed at. I actually remembered very clearly, from 25 years before, the scene in The Mystery of the Burnt Cottage when the Tempests flew over; in the new Egmont version they were written as modern jets. Tempests, akin to Spitfires, were "all the rage" to keen-eyed boys and men back in 1943. Changing them to "jets" is an understandable and minor change, but a change nevertheless, and one in particular that made my bottom lip stick out in annoyance.
The change from black servant Jo-Jo to white handyman Joe in The Island of Adventure stunk big-time. This was a major and unnecessary alteration, although surprisingly I didn't really notice until someone pointed it out; then the original character came flooding back. In The Mystery of the Hidden House, I remembered a scene where Ern was punished with a belt across his palm, but this was quite notably missing from the Egmont edition.
So I reluctantly agreed with fellow collector Heather in Australia (well known to Blytonites for Heather's Blyton Pages) that I needed to ditch the new edition paperbacks and start collecting secondhand old editions. Heather already had a nice collection of hardbacks, and she abjectly refused to even pick up a paperback, old or new; she tried to persuade me to buy hardbacks only. But I thought, "Look, I agree about buying old secondhand copies, but they have to be paperbacks because hardbacks cost way too much." So I bought from eBay a set of old 1963 edition Secret books (starting with The Secret Island). These were great, with original text and some illustrations, but my copies weren't in the best condition. Still, I was convinced that old copies were better.
Around this time I went to England (May 2006) and enjoyed the Enid Blyton Day. I dived into my parents' cupboard-under-the-stairs and found a bunch of old books that I had once owned. Sadly they were in a terrible state, but it was interesting to flick through and see the original text and some old 1970-style illustrations. But the biggest breakthrough for me was visiting a charity shop and finding two vintage hardbacks for 99p each; no dust jackets but otherwise very good condition: The Boy Next Door and The Mystery That Never Was.
Reading this old hardback edition of The Boy Next Door was a whole new and exciting experience for me. It was first published in 1944, but my copy was from 1965. Still, I knew that little had changed since its original print. I was instantly converted. The weight and feel of the book, its surprisingly petite size and light weight, the vintage typesetting, the idea that children read copies very smiliar to this way back in the forties... And I have to say the illustrations by Gilbert Dunlop were a treat. They really hammered home that new paperback editions pale into insignificance compared to these old "original" hardbacks.
So began my quest for secondhand hardbacks. Heather had told me so, and I had to eat a fair share of humble pie, but the important thing was that I was now on the right track. But even then I got it wrong. I collected the entire set of six Barney Mysteries, all from the same era (1970), and these prints featured pictorial boards (ie, the original covers were printed onto the boards themselves). I was pretty certain the text was the same as the originals, and the books featured all the original illustrations. Wrong! I discovered to my annoyance that even these old copies weren't "original" enough; they had literally half the illustrations missing and there was evidence of textual changes (for instance, Snoek the cat had been altered to Sardine). I also had a 1957 copy of The Rilloby Fair Mystery with red boards (no jacket) and this was clearly a better edition that the 1970 one — more illustrations and a correctly named cat! Plus, oddly enough, the quality of the pages themselves were nicer; the pages in the 1970s editions were incredibly stiff, which I didn't like.
So guess what? I sold all those pictorial board copies and went back further in time. Now I'm only after copies from pre-1965 (just to be safe) and preferably with the full wraparound covers. Meanwhile I've been collecting Famous Fives, Five Find-Outer Mysteries, and so on. I've also now made the transition from "jacketless is fine" to "must have jackets" — my habit is getting more expensive by the minute! I was lucky enought to snap up an almost-complete set (13 out of 15) Secret Sevens, all from Brockhampton Press and all with clean dust jackets. Very nice indeed.
Paperbacks? Pooh! I still have the five Secret books because, quite frankly, those are REALLY hard to find. But at this stage I've sold all my new edition paperbacks and have around 60 vintage Enid Blyton books (as well as a lot of non-Blytons).
The step up the ladder to "first editions only" hasn't happened yet. I can't see it happening anytime soon, but if it does, it occurs to me that there are various other steps beyond that, including "must have better first editions than I already have" and then "must have every edition of every book ever published."
This post has 7 comments
Heather, this collecting bug is all your fault. But I'm grateful.
Having said that, I do appreciate the superior illustrations and chunky feel (not to mention the unadulterated text!) of older editions. As my favourite series is the Adventure series, I treated myself to nice Macmillan reprints of those and was delighted to find that they contained extra illustrations by Stuart Tresilian, some of which had been cut from my 1970s Piccolo paperbacks.
I've also collected a number of Enid Blyton's nature books, educational books, religious writing and other lesser-known one-off books in early editions, either with or without dust-jackets. Old hardbacks of those can still be bought for a reasonable price, unlike most of the titles in the major series.
If my ship ever comes in I'd love to collect Blyton first editions, letters, Sunny Stories etc, but I'd still keep the paperbacks and Dean&Son books which got me hooked in the first place. So there!
Anita
I first began recollecting when my older sis (then in her 30s) bought an entire collection of hardback, dustjacketed Hardys from some bloke who emigrated from South Africa to Oz in the mid 80s. Firstly, I was thrilled to discover these old books were still attainable. Secondly, I was instantly envious and I began hunting hardback Hardys, FFs, Lone Pines et al immediately.
Once I had most Adventure, FF, Secret, Hardys, Nancy Drew in hardback with DJs from the 50s and 60s that I coveted, I began to consider the paperbacks again. After initially turning my nose up at these, I realized that the Armada editions I'd read as a child were actually quite attractive. I still had a few tatty copies from that era and so began filling in the gaps. Then I thought it wouldn't hurt to get earlier and later PBs from Armada. And Picollo. And Knight. Even some of the latest editions (for the covers of course - the Adventure books boast dramatic illies). Then there are those Purnell annuals... And hello, slippery slope, to quote Tony.
Just this Sunday I found two English FF PBs translated (by Anthea Bell I think) from the French series. Haven't read them yet, but feel obliged to hunt the rest! Gah! I'm not going to be a completist! Am I?
Most of my Enid Blyton books are hardcover ones and only a few of them are paperbacks. I am glad that I bought hardcover ones when you could find them for nothing. It wasn't me, though that chose hardcover books instead of paperbacks. It was, as usual, my mom.
She will grumble when I asked her for a paperback storybook, muttering under her breath of how the book will easily be "fried" by me some days later. She will ask me, repeatedly, whether the book has a hardcover edition. Sometimes, she drives me mad! I knew her intention is good and that I should not say she is nutting me but, unfortunately she does drive me mad with her rules and regulations!
Well, it's a thanks for my mom that I got my books all nice, arranged and hardcovers...
Cheers,
Mimsy.
j
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