- by Owen Morton
I seem to recall that almost two years ago, I wrote an article which discussed the Famous Five. Popular though this group of quintessentially British child crimefighters were, they were not Enid Blyton’s only contribution to literature. Far from it, in fact. It is a sad but true fact that Enid Blyton churned out children’s books at a depressingly regular rate, probably producing on average two for every day of her life. (At this speed, the entire Famous Five series would have taken her only ten and a half days to write, a time period which I find eminently believable for this achievement.) Having thus dedicated a small amount of time to the Famous Five, she turned her attention to other projects, including the atrocity that is Noddy (which continues to plague me now, because of my mother’s somewhat inexplicable obsession with it) and the retellings of Brer Rabbit, which I always quite enjoyed, though probably because I’ve never read the originals.
However, Enid Blyton’s first love was clearly the theme of a bunch of brain-dead kids somehow outsmarting the best criminals that foreign nations had to offer. I can draw this conclusion because there is an almost infinite supply of books of this nature by Enid Blyton. There is that series of books featuring Peggy, her brother whose name temporarily escapes me and the wild boy Jack which fits into this category (with an evil uncle thrown in for good measure), as well as the series starring Roger, Barney, Diana, the excitingly named Snubby, as well as Miranda the monkey and Loony the dog. But by far, the most popular series following the Famous Five would be the Secret Seven, who consisted of brother and sister Peter and Janet, as well as Jack, Colin, Pamela and two other nondescript children whose names I have now forgotten and do not expect to ever remember, because – quite personally – I have no intention of ever reading a Secret Seven book again.
The Secret Seven were actually a bit wet (as one of the Famous Five might put it) when compared to the pioneers of child crimefighting that the Famous Five themselves were. Yes, the Secret Seven did fight crime, but they never seemed quite so serious about it as the Famous Five did. Moreover, the Secret Seven were most incredibly boring people. The Famous Five, we will recall, went out and did stuff. This tended to be going on camping trips to Kirrin Island a depressingly large number of times, or on camping trips somewhere else instead, or if they were feeling particularly ambitious, going to stay in a lighthouse or in a stately home with a right loony who threatened to lock them up in their bedrooms and feed them only bread and water (I refer here specifically to ‘Five Go To Smugglers’ Top’, but there were undoubtedly countless other incidents as well, but I simply cannot be bothered to go and look them up). Okay, so it’s not the most exciting range of activities, but it’s still something.
The Secret Seven, by contrast, had the most amazing propensity to skulk about in a shed in the garden and invent ever more elaborate passwords to get into said shed. I believe the reason they needed these passwords was because Jack’s sister Suzie was constantly trying to get into the shed and eavesdrop on the Secret Seven’s meetings. Suzie was continually described as being irritating, and I imagine she was supposed to come across to the readers as being annoying, but I actually found her quite interesting. I mean, one of the cunning methods she used to gain access to the shed was to make herself a disguise. I mean it. She dressed up as her brother Jack, I believe, and was able to convince the entire Secret Seven for some considerable time that she was him! A girl who can carry this off, pretending to be her brother in front of his six closest friends for a fairly long space of time, has got to be an interesting kind of person, really. Another question is, of course, why she really wanted to be in the shed so much.
This is, in fact, a question which can be extended to the entirety of the Secret Seven. Why on earth do they favour loitering around in this shed – no matter how exciting a shed it is – to the much more interesting activities of the Famous Five? Yes, the Secret Seven do solve crimes when they come their way, but one might reasonably expect that not a lot of crimes would find their way under the Secret Seven’s noses if all they’re doing is sitting about making up ever more exciting passwords? (And anyway, if they’re really that keen to keep Suzie out of their shed, why don’t they just fit a lock?) I may be being unfair, as I haven’t actually read a Secret Seven book for many years now, so I’m working from memory (though I think I could argue my memory is quite accurate: I may not be able to remember stuff which is useful for exams, but I am eminently capable of stating the Intelligence, Strength/Weaponry, Speed and Weakness/Limitations values of any Series 2 Monster In My Pocket Battle Card that you may care to name), but I’m fairly sure the vast majority of the Secret Seven’s time was spent in this shed.
And because I’ve now spent two rather long paragraphs discussing the Secret Seven’s shed, I think it’s time to move on to other, perhaps even more pressing, questions. The first of these is, of course, why are they called the Secret Seven? Firstly, they’re not secret in any way. Everyone knows who they are, and they know where they hang out (the shed, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t). What’s left to be secret? Okay, it’s the password which is secret, but even this isn’t particularly secret, since Suzie seems to manage to get hold of it with alarming regularity (say, twice a chapter or so). A more accurate name might be the Mentally Challenged Shed Dwelling Seven. Secondly, there’s not seven of them. There’s eight. Scamper the dog should also be included, because the Famous Five include Timmy the dog. Therefore, the Secret Seven is a misnomer. The Imbecilic Eight, perhaps, or the Group Of People No One Talks To At School Because They’re Antisocial Loners Who Like Locking Themselves In A Shed.
Right, and because I now have actually nothing else to say on this subject, I’m going to finish the article.