Pony Tails and Puffin Books III: Kaye Webb
Eleanor Graham retired as editor of Puffin Books in 1961.
Her place was taken, briefly, by Margaret Clark (who was responsible for
publishing Tolkein’s The Hobbit, a
book of which Eleanor Graham had had a dim opinion). Although Margaret Clark
had been promised the Puffin editorship, she was shunted sideways, as Allen
Lane, Penguin founder, met Kaye Webb and saw in her an inspirational editor of
children’s books.
Webb was appointed in 1961. She had previously edited Elizabethan (a magazine I never saw–the
nearest I got was Nigel’s mention of it in Willan and Searle’s Down with Skool
series). Her career history had covered many aspects of the creative world,
from working as a 15-year-old for Mickey
Mouse Weekly, replying to children’s letters, to broadcasting for Woman’s Hour, and working with her then
husband, Ronald Searle, on several of his books.
Webb was not just an editor and brilliant spotter of the
unusual and the best: she was an inspired promoter. There is little point in
choosing inspirational literature if no one actually reads it. Frank Cottrell
Boyce, in his review of Valerie Grove’s biography of Webb, said: ‘Puffin wasn’t
a brand, it was a community.’
There was the Puffin Club. The Puffin magazine. Puffin
events, with Webb cajoling authors into attending tea parties to meet their
readers, or spiriting children off to the island of Lundy to meet real live
Puffins.
But all this fantastic energy did not embrace the
conventional pony book. Cottrell Boyce said:
‘Webb had a sense of mission. She went looking for stories “with pace and a strong moral sense, without being prim”. She didn’t do pony books or franchises. She didn’t care about commercial pressure.’
Whatever Webb thought of the traditional pony book, she
recognised that the genre did contain plums, and she picked them. It was Kaye
Webb who brought out K M Peyton’s brilliant Flambards series as a TV tie-in.
The series had the twin pull of being
both critically acclaimed (The Edge of the Cloud won the Carnegie
in 1969), and pulling in a vast number of new readers through its serialisation
on television. (Flambards, 1976, Flambards in Summer, The Edge of the Cloud, 1977)
Webb’s first pony book publication in 1964 was another
Carnegie winner: Mary Treadgold’s wartime adventure, We Couldn’t Leave Dinah, won in 1941. It set the scene for a collection
of horse stories that did not follow the conventional pony book trope of girl
gets pony and wins every gymkhana event within spitting distance. Caroline
dreams of a golden summer of ponies and the Pony Club, but that’s not what she
gets. What she gets is war, and invasion, and a rapid reassessment of the world
she thinks she knows, and the people in it. And Dinah, the pony, is indeed left.
Webb found stories of Australian children where horses are
set against an everyday life that is harsh and sometimes brutal (Mary Elwyn
Patchett’s The Brumby (1964), its
1972 sequel, Come Home, Brumby, and
Joan Phipson’s The Boundary Riders (1964)).
She went to America for William Corbin’s excellent The Horse in the House (1969), a
combination of coming of age story, lightly drawn romance (anathema for the
conventional pony story) and a brilliant picture of grief and plain, goofy,
teenagerdom. It was one of my absolute favourites as a child, and I can still remember
where the book lived in our local library. It was the Puffin edition, which the
library had converted into a hardback, leaving it a lumpier version of its
original self, but one that stood up to the many, many times I took the book
out.
Swedish author, Gunnel Linde, wrote A
Pony in the Luggage (1972), where two children who smuggle a pony up into
their hotel room manage to keep this large and inconvenient visitor a secret
from their disapproving aunt.
The comfortable, middle-class girls who inhabit most pony
fiction were given short shrift by Kaye Webb. Her horse story heroes, were, in
the main, at the opposite end of the social spectrum. They struggled against
far more than the fact they did not have a pony. She published the story of Kizzy,
a Romany, in Rumer Godden’s The Diddakoi (1975),
and visited Catherine Cookson’s North-Eastern landscape of mines and rag and
bone men in The Nipper (1973) and Joe and the Gladiator (1971). The heroine of Rumer Godden’s Mr McFadden’s Hallowe’en will never be
able to afford her own pony, and Florence Hightower’s family, in Dark Horse of Woodfield (1973) might
once have been wealthy, but are now experiencing a dramatically different way
of life in the American Depression. Eilis Dillon’s The Island of Horses (1976) gave the reader warring communities and
a life lived against a background of unforgiving nature. Irene Makin’s Ponies in the Attic, 1973, is about the
tensions between a child who has lost the middle-class dream, and one who still
has it.
Even where the background is rather more conventional, the
story is not. Ponies Plot (1967), by
C Northcote Parkinson, subverts the pony genre completely. It is the ponies who
are in charge here, and it is the ponies whose dream is to find a child of
their very own. The pony is also allowed a say, if not so directly, in James
Aldridge’s Ride a Wild Pony (1976), a
judgement of Solomon in equine form, in which the disputed pony is allowed to
choose its owner.
Lucy Rees’ Pippa, in The
Wild Pony (1978) comes closest of all to the pony book dream when she moves
with her family to Wales. Like many other pony book heroines, the move to the
country means the possibility of a pony, if only she will work for it. Pippa
does, but the pony she buys is wild and difficult, and Pippa’s life spirals into
misunderstanding and tragedy.
Puffin Books took off in a major way under Kaye Webb. I can
still recognise from 20 paces the spine of a Webb-era Puffin paperback, and
know that I am guaranteed to get an intelligent and interesting read even
though I am now several decades too old for the Puffin Club. Kaye Webb avoided
the predictability and the shallows of genre fiction, but was astute enough to
recognise that any genre can contain its gems, and that every child, no matter
what their taste for fiction, deserves the very best. And that was what she
gave them.
~0~
This is the last of my
pieces on Puffin books and the horse story. You can read the two earlier pieces
here:
Sources
Phil Baines: Puffin by Design, 70 Years of Imagination 1940-2010 (2010)
Frank Cottrell Boyce: review of Valerie Grove’s So Much to Tell, The Times, 8 May, 2010 (paywall)
Kaye Webb’s Puffin Adventure: The Daily Telegraph, 30 April, 2010
Kaye Webb: Obituary, The Independent, 18 January 1996
Comments
One thing I liked about the Puffin books is that they generally had a higher quality binding than budget conscious imprints like Armada. Most of my Puffins from the 1950s and 1960s are still in one piece, which is more than can be said of other paperbacks of that era.
Did you leave off re-reading Dinah for a while after your childhood experience? There is an argument that experiencing fear through children's books enables you to cope with it, but I'm not sure if that's so!
I think my Dad may have traumatized me a bit by those old war movies he used to watch. Not that they were that graphic or anything - they were mostly 1950s vintage. I can remember my younger sister and I diving behind the couch when the scary bits came on, and to this day I can get a bit of a jolt when I see a searchlight or hear the sound of an air raid siren. Seems a bit silly when you consider that I didn't even live through it.
Ride a Wild Pony is actually one I intend on picking up at some point. It is a little later than most of my books, which were mostly published prior to 1970 (with a few exceptions like the Jinny books), but it does sound interesting. Horse in the House is still on my TBR list. I actually don't have a Puffin copy - SusanB pointed out a very nice hardcover with dust jacket going for a reasonable price on eBay, which I promptly snagged.
I agree that Dinah isn't a traditional pony story, but I think that's one of the things that makes it so good.
Like you, Ride a Wild Pony is on my find it list!