B. O. P.

I mentioned a few days ago that I had bought an Annual of the Boys’ Own Paper (or B.O.P. as it called itself) for 1908-09.  This was partly to “replace” one I had in childhood, inherited from an elderly great-uncle, although it’s actually not the same year.  Partly it was just out of sociological interest; and partly, I was conscious of following the example of Erridge in Powell’s Dance.  For Erridge, this was a regression to childhood when worried or irritated; for me, it is just mild fun.

The first thing about the BOP that you notice is how dense it is; the print is small, and words crowd the page.  There are a lot of illustrations, but they are drawings and photographs, with no cartoon strips at all.  There’s almost no colour, except in the very occasional special plate, and the quality of the photographs is understandably poor – low contrast, low definition.  The tone is very serious, very improving, and very patriotic and public school (or at least, traditional male schools with uniforms, classical curricula, and fierce discipline).  There are adventure stories, lots of soldiering and scouting, and lots of articles on ships, trains, and other boys’ toys of the time – and lots of ‘doing’ articles: how to make a boat, a kite, a fishing rod et cetera.  Lots of animals are shot, Britain is naturally top country, and the Empire is a force of beneficence throughout the world; indigenous people are respected but in need of the white man's guidance, and they are sometimes “niggers”.

Yet, however uncomfortable all this is, there is a wholesomeness and an innocence too.  Good wins out, boys are basically honest and decent, and are encouraged to do outdoor things, play games, and support their school, country and chums.  BOP unashamedly puffs itself at any opportunity, and the general standard of humour is schoolboy in the juvenile not the scatological sense.  With a little social re-orientation, one would be very happy to see boys (there is no place here at all for girls) reading much of this today, rather than watching some of the video, television and computer games they spend so much time with (“Hrrmph!  Said cross of Tunbridge Wells”!).  The tone is unashamedly avuncular, and would certainly not be tolerated by any boys I know in the right age group (8-14, I guess?).

Let’s look at an issue at random – Saturday, February 13, 1909 - a drawing of a rugby match on the cover, "Dr Silver:  a school story" (part 3), "In the Heart of the Silent Sea" (an adventure story, part 20 (!)), two other adventure stories, another school story,  a not very good drawing of a white man in Africa shooting a native who has attacked him - but no story attached, a hockey story, an article on the Privet Hawk moth, one on football in Australia, a long article on "The Romance of Surveying: Thrilling Stories by the Men who are Mapping our Possessions", a school humourous poem and a weak cartoon.  Other editions can be very different, with columns on chess, draughts, puzzles, etc, but there is a strong strain of serialised and thrilling stories in school and around the Empire. Altogether 16 very full pages, quite a long, serious read.

As I hope I've made clear, it is very much of its time, and really has a pretty limited social outlook.  But I can take it for what it was, discount its Imperial attitudes, and look forward to getting a good deal of quiet enjoyment out of it over the coming weeks - though I doubt I will ever read all 800 pages!!  Frustratingly, as I have only one volume, some stories will start before my volume begins, and others will not finish - but that probably doesn't matter; it is the flavour of the beast, not the outcome of the story, that I am after.

Comments

[fornetti]

I do not believe this

[Peter the Flautist]

If Dark Puss didn't read in trains he'd hardly get any reading done at all! My optic nerves don't require spectacles to assist them yet - I'm hoping to hang on until I am fifty. Of course with continuous welded track and modern suspensions the ride is a lot smoother than in yesteryear. I remember reading White Fang when at school, one of the better books we did as a class if I recall.

[glo]

Oldies but goldies. This sounds as sweet as childhood... although Edwardian childhood was probably more fierce and hard than mine.
It is typically the kind of book you can't read cover to cover but you have to savour bit-by-bit. That's why I just want to tell you to enjoy it and make the most of it, Mr Bagshaw!

[Cornflower]

Following "Himself", and on the subject of reading only one book, I must mention Uncle Matthew in "The Pursuit of Love" who claimed to have read only one book: Jack London's "White Fang", because it was "so frightfully good" he'd never bothered to read another.
Family legend had it that Farve (on whom Nancy Mitford based the wonderful/terrible Uncle Matthew) had indeed read just White Fang, though his letters suggest he'd made much greater use of his library than that.
Back to the novel and a warning to us all: "You shouldn't," said Davey "read in trains, ever. It's madly wearing to the optic nerve centres, it imposes a most fearful strain."
Sorry to have gone off topic, but take note, Lindsay!

[Mr Cornflower]

Fascinating, and given the date especially poignant - we look back on idealistic, patriotic schoolboys in 1908 and wonder how many of them were alive ten years later. On a different tack, the mention of Erridge's use of the book for distraction or solace reminds me - was this Powell's intention? - of one of Austen's stuffier characters, Sir Walter Kellynch (Bart.) of Kellynch Hall, who "read no other book but the Peerage; it was his companion for an idle hour, his comfort for a troubled one" (from memory so bound to be inaccurate but you get the gist - a man skewered in a sentence).