Gang Territory by
Peter St. John
Reviewed by Katherine Ashe, author, the Montfort series, Nov.14, 2012
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 as in Huckleberry Fin, and
as salutary a reminder of obtuse
adult perceptions and the complexity of the world of childhood.
Katherine Ashe is the author of the four volume Montfort novelized series
http://www.amazon.com/Katherine-Ashe/e/B004OTWHNQ/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1398361940&sr=1-2-ent
Katherine Ashe is the author of the four volume Montfort novelized series
http://www.amazon.com/Katherine-Ashe/e/B004OTWHNQ/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1398361940&sr=1-2-ent
