The impact Enid Blyton has had on children’s literature is impossible to quantify. Her books have been enjoyed by millions of children around the world, for over seventy years. They are so accessible, so absorbing, so thrilling. In Enid’s stories, children go on exciting adventures, they are in secret gangs, and enjoy the kind of parentless autonomy that today’s kids can only dream of. However, it wasn’t the Secret Seven, or Famous Five books that captivated me as a child. It was the Faraway Tree series. 

Double entendres abounded, as Dick and Fanny went up a tree into various magical kingdoms in the sky. They encountered strange characters such as Moon-Face, Silky, The Saucepan Man, Dame Washalot, Mr. Watzisname, and the Angry Pixie, who all lived in a huge tree that reached up to the clouds. The world’s they encountered would alter upon each visit: the Land of Birthdays, the Land of Goodies, the Land of Take-What-You-Want, the Land of Do-As-You-Please, and the Land of Dame Slap (altered to Dame Snap in revised editions), an aggressive school teacher who beat the children in her class.

In my mind, what I was seeking was a place of refuge, a respite from reality. Books took me to other places, fantasy worlds and imaginary situations. When I was in the Faraway Tree I was not in my bedroom, being punished for not putting my clothes in the wash basket. I was in a world of make believe, where magical things happened and children were free to do as they pleased. It was so enticing!

I would learn later that this immersive fantasy process is a maladaptive coping strategy. Books like the Faraway Tree were my way of dealing with unhappiness. When I was in the Faraway Tree I felt comfortable and safe. I still use the same technique to this day, to cope with my depression, anxiety and stress. When things are bad, I immerse myself in fantasy fiction, or a computer world game such as the Last of Us. I think many of us do. 

Today it might be Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, but as a child it was definitely the Faraway Tree that gripped my attention. There will always be a secret part of me that is that little boy, hiding under the covers, reading by torchlight, about climbing into the clouds with Moon Face and Silky, eager to see what exciting adventure lay ahead. 

Note: many people think that contemporary criticism of Enid Blyton ‘s books is woke nonsense. That it is modern parenting gone mad, and that it wasn’t like that ‘back in our day’. This is simply not true. This is a quote from Wikipedia:

Blyton’s work was always controversial among literary critics, teachers, and parents beginning in the 1950s due to the alleged unchallenging nature of her writing and her themes, particularly in the Noddy series. Some libraries and schools banned her works, and from the 1930s until the 1950s, the BBC refused to broadcast her stories because of their perceived lack of literary merit. Her books have been criticised as elitist, sexist, racist, xenophobic, and at odds with the more progressive environment that was emerging in post-World War II Britain.