It may seem strange, but when reading The Secret Mountain I become so thoroughly wrapped up in the emotion and excitement that I barely notice the contrivances. It can't be denied that there are some massive coincidences/conveniences, e.g. Paul suddenly having access to an aeroplane, and the timing of the eclipse. Having said that, plenty of incidents in Enid Blyton's other adventure books also rely heavily on contrivance, such as the suitcases falling from the tree at a crucial moment in The Valley of Adventure, and the old wreck being tossed up in a storm just when George's cousins happen to be visiting Kirrin Island for the first time in Five on a Treasure Island. Such coincidences and improbable happenings are typical of adventure books in general - not only by Enid Blyton but by Malcolm Saville, H. Rider Haggard, Robert Louis Stevenson and others. And of course, all fiction is contrived to some extent. After all, the author is guiding the narrative so the story leads somewhere, heading for a conclusion which makes some kind of sense of all that has gone before and leaves the reader feeling satisfied. There's often a fair amount of foreshadowing and far less randomness and redundancy than there would be in real life, meaning that things fit together in a way that would be unthinkable in reality.Debbie wrote: ↑17 Nov 2022, 21:47I'm not too keen on Secret Mountain. It feels a bit contrived. I think it reminds me of Missie Lee by Arthur Ransome which made a lot more sense to me when I was told that the children made up the adventure during a wet holiday (although I love Peter Duck, which also is made up). So I think whereas the others feel possible, it just feels that step too far to believe it happened.
What strikes me about The Secret Mountain is how much I feel part of the adventure. I'm right there with the main characters, experiencing what they're experiencing every step of the way. The Arnolds have come to Africa on a serious mission - to look for their pilot parents who have been missing for weeks. Enid Blyton doesn't linger too long on either pathos or dread but there is a touch of both - just enough to remind the reader of the solemn purpose of this journey into the unknown. There's an unspoken fear behind all that the characters do, because Peggy and the others know that each stage of their journey takes them closer to finding out what happened to their father and mother. It's possible that the Arnold children will have to face the worst – and they've already been through a great deal concerning their parents, as readers of The Secret Island are all too aware. It's telling that in The Secret Island and The Secret of Spiggy Holes Jack was nominated "captain" and put in charge of proceedings, but in The Secret Mountain Pilescu, a burly man armed with a gun, is "captain", saying to Paul, "I am in command now. You are my lord, but I am your captain in this adventure. Do as I say." Despite his presence, Paul and the Arnolds still face terrifying trials and often take matters into their own hands.
Everything around the children is unfamiliar and filled with potential danger. There are no accustomed sights and sounds to reassure them and make them feel at ease. As Mike remarks, "Everything looks very strange, doesn't it? Look at those funny red-brown daisies over there. And even the grass is different!" They can expect nothing except the unexpected, and the reader picks up on that. Reading the book as a child, I felt that absolutely anything might happen! It was an electrifying experience and made a huge impression on me.