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Sunday, November 11, 2007

The House on the Cliff

A while ago I found a couple of books featuring the Hardy Boys. Nothing exciting about that, of course — you can find the Hardy Boys just about everywhere you turn. But these two books, published by Applewood in the 1990s, are faithful reprints of the original text. They're hardbacks with dust jackets, and the jackets themselves feature the original artwork. Inside, the copy is exactly as originally written way back in 1927, without a single change. Unlike the editions you normally see these days...

Edward Stratemeyer and his team of ghostwriters, collectively known as the Stratemeyer Syndicate, used the pseudonym Franklin W. Dixon to churn out book after book featuring the Hardy Boys. By the late fifties there was a whole slew of adventures to collect. But in 1959 the Syndicate decided to shorten future novels to a mere 20 chapters and re-market them, and since the adventures thus far were 25 chapters long, that meant an awful lot of retrospective streamlining to fit the original books into the new format, ready for re-marketing. So began the mammoth task of editing and cutting those books written between 1927 and 1959. In doing so, the usual amendments were made for the sale of political correctness, but this was the tip of the iceberg.

Cutting five chapters from each book seems almost inconceivable. I'm trying to imagine any Enid Blyton book being treated that way — let's take The Rilloby Fair Mystery, since it's on my desk in front of me at this moment. It has 29 chapters. Now, if I were a ruthless form of Stratemeyer Syndicate, let's say Keith's Kutting Krew, I would need to cut this and all other books down to a neat 20 chapters so I could re-package and re-market all Blyton's work. Where on earth do I start? It's not simply a case of removing entire chapters wholesale — that would certainly be easier, but would result in huge noticeable gaps in the story. So bits have to be removed throughout the entire book, while other bits have to be re-written. After all cutting and editing is done, I would have to split the remaining text into 20 equal-length chapters.

Actually, with Enid Blyton it might be a tad easier. As Keith's Kutting Krew, I would cut out the "pointless" rambling opening sequences where the characters get together again and prepare for the holidays. No more long, lazy afternoons wishing for a nice juicy mystery to come along; now we need to launch into the mystery by the time we get to the end of chapter one, but not before having a nice hook in the opening paragraph. So, with that in mind, the new edition of The Rilloby Fair Mystery might start something like this:

THE OLD MAN man gazed at Snubby and then made a curious remark. "Spies! I never thought of that! It might have been spies!"
   Snubby looked up, astonished, at the old man sitting opposite him in the train. "Funny old fellow," he thought. "What's he talking about?"
   Snubby was pleased to be going to his cousins' home for the holidays. He liked Mrs Lynton, their mother, and he quite liked Mr Lynton, though he was secretly afraid of his sudden tempers. It would be good to see Diana and Roger again.
   "It's strange you should be reading a book about old documents being stolen," said the old man, pointing to Snubby's book. It was entitled 'Spies! Spies! Spies!' and contained a few smaller taglines such as 'Spies in the tower!' and 'Old documents stolen!'
   The old man seemed quite shocked by the idea that apparently had just popped into his head. "Because I've just left a place where there's been a theft of that kind. Terrible, terrible!"

As far as the Five Find-Outers are concerned, there'll be no more tricking Mr Goon with clever disguises or annoying him in the street. No more wasting time in the tea shop either, eating macaroons. The Famous Five can do away with their long bike rides or drawn out hikes; it's far quicker if they just start the story with their camp already set up and the villains up to funny-goings-on nearby. Meanwhile, Jack, Philip, Dinah and Lucy-Ann can just stay home for an adventure, as it takes up far too many pages explaining where they're off to next.

*Shudder* As much as I'd like to see an aggressive marketing plan for Enid Blyton's books in the 21st Century, the idea of seeing them chopped up and re-written just to suit a neat, economical format... well, it makes me turn purple in the face!

Back to these Applewood facsimile versions of the Hardy Boys mysteries. They're new, printed in 1991, BUT they're printed with the same old style type as the originals, as if the publishers literally re-used the printing plates created in 1927. No changes, no cuts, not even any simple edits to remove non-PC phrases like "nigger in the woodpile." These books are exactly the same as the originals, minus the musty smell.

The result? Books that are a pleasure to read. You can chuckle at the use of "chums" and "mighty fine" as we Blytonites might chuckle at the use of "how queer" and "what a gay day" — but aside from that, it's surprising how timeless these books really are, and how immensely enjoyable they are when you know you're reading a genuine bit of history (light entertainment though it may be) and the complete, full-length text.

The House on the Cliff tells the tale of Frank and Joe out on a motorcycle ride with three chums. They come across the old Polucca house on the edge of the cliff. "It's supposed to be haunted," one says, and of course decide to go and visit. They do so, only to hear a scream coming from somewhere within, and then some laughter as they turn and skedaddle. Later they see a man shot at as he flees in a motor boat, and end up rescuing him from the water when his boat sinks. It turns out that the two separate events are connected (no surprise there) and the book becomes a tale about smugglers and kidnappers.

There are shades of many Blyton novels here. The Secret of Spiggy Holes springs to mind, with its tunnels and caves used by smugglers and kidnappers. The cliff itself, riddled with caves and passages and steep staircases, reminds me of numerous Famous Five and Adventure novels. Even the house, supposedly haunted but in fact "rigged" by the smugglers to scare people away, is a common theme in Blyton as well as at least a couple of Three Investigator books I can think of (and cripes, I've only read four of those!).

So this Hardy Boys book is all too familiar, but in a good way. It makes me want to read more, for sure. And the book seemed to get better and better as it went along. The long scene inside the cliff trying to rescue their kidnapped father is very well written with plenty of atmosphere and lavish attention to detail. And the villains are dangerous, shooting their guns left, right and center.

I actually have the newer edition of The House on the Cliff too, so I'm able to compare the old and new editions side by side. The differences are staggering. The new version's first chapter alone bears little resemblance to the original; in this version, the boys are given a telescope to look out for smugglers from the grounds of the old "Poletti" place. Actually this storyline is slightly better in a way, but still, it's different. That first chapter, and indeed the first few chapters, have been entirely rewritten. Skipping through the book at random I see no end of differences: completely unfamiliar scenes, or scenes that are vaguely similar but obviously re-written; characters that have been renamed for no apparent reason (Snackley to Snattman, anyone?); and the cutting of a lot of the atmosphere that makes the original as good as it is.

It seems to me that anyone reading the new editions of the Hardy Boys might get the wrong impression about the quality of these books, which is a shame. We should thank our lucky stars that most of Enid Blyton's books have remained relatively intact despite some annoying (but minor) tampering by publishers over the years.

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