Jennospot 87 Gang Territory
Moi village o' Widdlin'ton ain't an important
place, 'cept fer them wot live there, o' 'corse, wot don't mean that there
ain't no visitors from toime ter toime. Any'ow, a real noice lady from Pennsylvania (wot's in the United
States o' America Gang Territory
"World War II and the bombing of London
brought about the displacement of multitudes of children. We see photos of
them, wan, frightened as they’re herded onto trains bound for the safer
countryside or they’re led away by the firm grip of strangers’ hands. But what
happened to them after that, when they arrived at their unfamiliar
destinations?
Peter St. John’s autobiographically inspired story
of a boy from a destroyed London orphanage gives us an insight. An insight not
only into the new hazards such children faced, but into the noble code of
boyhood, a code that forbade complaining when one was abused and that produced
a degree of self-reliance that would serve well in later years – provided the noble
spirited little lad survived.
As in a medieval romance, the hero’s name is never
revealed to the reader. We will call him Boy. Boy arrives in the rural village
of Widdlington which is scant of indoor plumbing but rich in gangs of children.
Every street has its own gang who guard their territory from intruders. And an
intruder is any other child who does not live on that street. This of course
makes life exceedingly difficult for Boy, whose aunt and guardian seems
oblivious to the juvenile culture surrounding her, for she makes a habit of
sending him on errands where his very life depends upon his ingenuity in
getting to his goal and back home again unobserved.
There may be individuals as completely lacking in
humane feeling as this aunt, so completely focused on a sense of being put
upon, so resentful of a young boy, and so determined to gain every instant of
advantage from the unwanted presence of a child, as to resemble a slave driver
with a savage tongue in place of whip. When the aunt seems to relent at sight
of the boy’s injuries one senses that self-protection, not pity, is her
foremost, driving motive: fear of being discovered as the abuser she is. Why is
she so cramped and mean of spirit? Seen from the viewpoint of Boy, we never
learn.
But if the aunt makes his new home hellish, the
principal local bully, known as Slug, turns the entire outside world into a
trial of strategy for Boy as he must navigate from place to place nearly always
under the threat of severe bodily harm if he loses his focus of attention for a
moment. St. John sets up hazards and triumphs that make the plot predictable
but that also create suspense – and a certain admiration in the reader as we
know what must be coming but well drawn intervening events keep forestalling
the inevitable.
Widdlington is peopled with kindly folk as well as
brutes: from teachers to parents to children – mostly girls – and the local
derelict known as Dummy. Many speak in dialect although, thank heaven, Boy does
not. As yet another “Oi” for “I” is uttered, the words of Henry Higgins spring
to mind: “Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak?” Walter
Scott loved writing in dialects too, so St. John is in illustrious company.
The issue of bullying is as timely now as ever and
St. John’s exploration of the ways in which
children cope: isolatedly, determinedly, with fear and bravery, is as resonant
in Gang Territory
Katherine Ashe, author of the Montford series http://wwwlongview.blogspot.com/
14 November 2012
By
the way, it's me, Jenno, wot put in the pictures of Widdlin'ton just in case
yew'd loike ter see a bit o' moi village, so if'n yew don't loike 'em don't yew
go a-blamin' the noice American lady. An' p'raps if’n yew'd loike a few more,
yew c'd always go ter http://www.peterstjohn.net/
Luv
from Jenno.
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