A Self-Indulgent (and lengthy) Review of Biggles Delivers the Goods

Feb 14, 2009 14:28

Biggles Delivers the Goods (book four in the First Biggles Omnibus)

Aaaaaaah, that's more like it. I was nervous starting this, after the words Biggles and I had over In the Orient, but I needn't have feared. Sure, the "Japs" feature again, and are worse than vermin, and there's some really remarkable colonialism (see below), but there are also fantastic non-European secondary characters, and some justification for the boys' hearty dislike and disdain for the Japanese.

In fact, Biggles even kicks off the action with a quick ride round the room on his hobby horse of racial equality and anti-colonialism (325):
"He claimed that he knew you, and I was anxious to confirm that this was a fact before I brought you together. I know you have some queer friends scattered up and down the globe--"
"While men are decent to me I try to be decent to them, regardless of race, colour, politics, creed, or anything else," asserted Biggles curtly. "I've travelled a bit, and taking the world by and large, it's my experience that with a few exceptions there's nothing wrong with the people on it, if only they were left alone to live as they want to live."
"All right -- all right," said the Air Commodore soothingly.

This reminds me of British comedian Jeremy Hardy's protestations over the accusations of racism in the army: "Well, given that the army's sole raison d'etre is killing foreigners, would it not be a touch surprising if there wasn't any racism...?" This is, after all, a war, and Biggles is a proud defender of the British Empire, which explains this exchange, which made me sporffle severely (377):
Suddenly Ginger laughed quietly.
"What's funny?" inquired Biggles.
"Us," answered Ginger. "The things we do. To most people at home this part of the globe is a place as inaccessible as the moon, crawling with Japanese scum; yet here we are, right in the middle of it, cruising along as if the country and the launch belonged to us."
"As a matter of fact they do," returned Biggles dryly.

Muh-huh. The Malaysians are just there looking after the place for you, eh?

I also like Johns' writing (not just for the inadvertent boylove).

On the other hand, it does also remind me of what often strikes me with these books: without tv and film as widespread and elaborate as they are now, and without the net, books like this were most people's only glimpse into the foreign and exotic. Which is why Johns' sometimes very good descriptive passages would be doubly striking for his contemporary readership (338):
Below the aircraft, like a string of green beads dropped carelessly on blue velvet, were the islands of the archipelago, lonely, untouched by civilisation, each hiding beneath its tangle of jungle a wealth of animal, bird and reptile life... In the turquoise water that separated the islands from the mainland, seeming from above so innocent of danger, lurked marine monsters of unbelievable size and horror -- shark, octopus and the giant decapod.

The giant decapod! But it's just a tease *sulks* The decapod only makes this cameo, then sinks back into the murk. However, Johns does keep up a fairly steady background hum of setting, so that we don't forget that the boys are in the tropics. I particularly like the peaceful, team feeling, very late in the story, when they're all gathered together the night before the big show-down (461):
He found Algy, Bertie and Angus sitting in cane chairs on the verandah talking in low tones. Ginger and Tug lay on the bamboo floor, asleep. Algy said the others had gone inside to sleep -- they could not stand the mosquitoes. Not that inside was much better.
Biggles evacuated a six-inch centipede from the verandah with a vicious kick, and pulling up a chair lit a cigarette and sat down.

Shortly after their arrival, the boys meet Ayert, who has to be one of the most interesting minor characters in any of the books I've read so far, and not only because of his physical description (343/4):
One man stood out in ugliness and ferociousness of appearance -- a tall, gaunt Malay, minus one eye, and a face so scarred that Ginger shuddered when he looked at it. His expression, due to the scars, was demoniacal, and not improved by a dirty red handkerchief tied low over his forehead. From a wide belt, exquisitely decorated with gold, silver and mother-of-pearl, hung a huge parang. ... The sinister appearance of this musical-comedy bandit was rendered almost ludicrous by an enormous, obviously home-made cigar. As a final touch the man walked with a pronounced limp.

So far, so good. Even better, though, is when, in amongst Ayert prowling the jungle and cutting Japanese soldiers to bits with his parang, we discover (358):
A chuckle took Ginger's eye to Ayert, who was reclining in the stern. ...to his utter amazement he saw that he was looking at a magazine. ... It was a film paper.
"For the love of Pete," he murmured, turning an astonished face to Li Chi. "Where did he get that?"
... "He has a stack of them." Li Chi smiled. "Didn't you know that Ayert was a film fan?" ...
Ginger blinked. "Ayert at the flicks -- that's a knock-out. It's a picture I can't visualise. ... Who's his favourite?"
"Ask him."
Ginger spoke to Ayert. "Who's your favourite actor?" he asked.
"Donald Duck," returned Ayert without hesitation. "Very clever, wise guy."
Ginger looked at Biggles. "That beats cock fighting."

Better still is the revelation that Li Chi has to make Ayert leave his pistol behind when they go to see Westerns, otherwise Ayert tends to join in the shooting.

I do like the boylove, though, let's not deny it.

Which (and it was only a matter of time) brings me to the subject of innuendo. One can't hope for a Flies East boyfriends-in-the-desert scene in every book (more's the pity), but Biggles' reunion with Li Chi comes bloody close (323/4):
Biggles renewed acquaintanceship with the man who had so neatly beguiled him, with a smile that was friendly, but held a suspicion of reproach. The Chinaman... was not the least embarrassed. He too, smiled -- the elusive, enigmatical smile of the Orient that might mean anything. Rising from the chair in which he had been seated he bowed from the waist.
"That we should meet once was written in the Book of Fate," he said gravely, in smooth, polished English. "That our paths should cross again is an honour I do not deserve."
"I'll reserve my opinion until I see the outcome of the meeting," returned Biggles cautiously. "Life has treated you kindly. You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."
"We Chinese grow old slowly," answered Li Chi simply. "You, too, have carried the years well, if I may say so without impertinence."
"When you've finished handing each other bouquets, suppose we get down to business," suggested the Air Commodore.

Boys, stop flirting and pay attention!

I haven't read the short story where Biggles is "beguiled" by Li Chi, but for some reason I couldn't possibly guess at, I'm imagining late-night encounters in Hong Kong, one-night stands, and last-minute revelations of identity. (Only the latter of which is cannon, and Delivers the Goods should definitely carry a spoilers warning for Biggles Flies Again.)

Naturally, there are some nice BFF (boyfriends forever) moments (337):
Beside him in the cockpit sat Li Chi. Behind were Algy, Ginger and Bertie; apart from watching for hostile aircraft they had no particular duties Biggles just liked to have his boyfriends along for the ride whenever possible.

Biggles and the team continue their grand tradition of nicking their modes of transport off the enemy. There's a hugely pleasing escalation of this, from a kabang (like a canoe, I suppose), to a motorboat to a supply vessel, and even a suggestion of hijacking a fleet of troop transports (although sadly orders from HQ are to stop buggering about fighting the war and get on with sneaking rubber back to India) (382/3):
"I think this ship, the Sumatran, would be very useful to us," he observed.
Li Chi was for once startled from his Oriental calm. "You have a touch of fever, I think."
"On the contrary, I've never felt better in my life," declared Biggles lightly.
... Li Chi regarded Biggles with suspicion not unmixed with aprehension. "If you tell me that you are going to try to sink the Sumatran I shall know that you are ill in the intestines."
"Sink her! Good Lord, no! Not on your life. Incidentally, I have every reason to suppose that my intestines are in very good order. But it seems to me that we might employ the Sumatran to good purpose. There's nothing like improving your position as occasion offers. We started with a kabang. We moved up a step when we took the launch. Obviously the next step is up the side of the Sumatran."
"And so on to the Queen Mary?" Li Chi was getting sarcastic.
"It it suited my purpose -- yes."

I love that Li Chi is torn between being impressed and ridiculing. He's got such an inexplicable crush on Biggles (and vice versa, of course)! Although, word to the wise, James -- even in response to Li Chi's enquiry, remarking on the state of your intestines comes under the heading of TMI.

"The trouble with you Chinese is..."

Happily, Li Chi gets in a couple more good shots later on. This is why I find Delivers the Goods so much more palatable than In the Orient: some non-Western voices get heard, too (397):
"War is always a messy business, my friend, no matter where it is; and the parang [machete] is no more barbarous than the bomb, the tank or the flame thrower, such as the civilised peoples of Europe use," said Li Chi stiffly, with emphasis on the word civilised.

Likewise, Major Marling (who is charmingly off his head), in response to Biggles's anger at the lack of discipline when his troops (who include Malays, Chinese, etc. etc.) attack the Japanese forces (446):
"These natives are savages."
"Of course they're savages, my boy," replied the major sharply. "So would you be a savage had you lived here and seen your friends carved up by this Japanese scum."

This is borne out by Algy's own reaction to having a boy beheaded in front of him, and being lined up for the same execution himself -- he grabs a sword and charges off to seek revenge, and is later described as coming back "eyes wild."

Major Marling is an interesting character. He starts out (like Ayert) as a musical-hall figure: the Empire Builder Gone Native. He lives on his own private island, refusing all contact with the outside world, and has adopted the local customs so much that, apparently, he could pass as Asian. He married an Indian princess and has a son (Prince Lalla. Really.). He lives more or less like a king, with the locals as (apparently) willing subjects. They seem to have a strong loyalty to him, and vice versa, despite some aspects of his attitude (443):
"You'll never stop them now; they're beserk," said Marling casually. "The trouble with these chaps is they tend to get out of hand."
"Tend to get out of hand!" cried Biggles with bitter sarcasm. "They're like a lot of wild animals."
"Why not? That's just what they are," said Marling cheerfully.

He seems to have a great deal of affection for the people with whom he has chosen to surround himself, despite what seems a very paternalistic approach. Marling himself has more than a touch of that delightful insanity associated with the best of the upper-class fops (wave hello to the nice folks, Bertie) -- just before the above interlude with Biggles, he was to be found (443):
sitting in a chair with a rifle held like a shotgun, taking shots at Japanese as they crossed the room from one door to another. Seeing Biggles he announced cheerfully, "Five so far. Like potting rabbits, by gad."

Callous, yes. Quite funny, too, if we remember that this is an action story, not a serious novel. He reminds me of the Englishman in Cruise of the Condor who helps supply the boys for their trip into South America (whose name, annoyingly, I can't remember just now). The character in Condor struck me as the worst kind of ex-pat Englishman: he despised the people he was living amongst, despised the country, its weather, its landscape, everything, even the work he was doing there, yet he continued to do it -- to exploit these people and this place -- because he knew damn well that he had a corner on the market. It's a pity I don't have a copy of Condor to hand to back up this character bashing, but that was certainly the impression I got from my reading (some months ago). Marling, by way of contrast, loves the people despite their quaint native ways and berserk foibles, and chooses to live among them. Yes, he still enjoys a position of power, and yes, he still has some views which grate on modern ears, but on the whole I'm in favour of him. He likes the people, and he's nuts himself. Carry on, Major.

Got a character? Let's have a look, then.

A couple of interesting character points for Biggles. For starters, this (417):
"My friend, five thousand years ago the Chinese taught themselves to do without sleep for long periods," said Li Chi placidly. "When I was a boy my father made me sit and stare at my great toe for twenty-four hours at a time without moving. That is Chinese training."
Biggles laughed. "If my father had caught me doing that he would have sent for the doctor."

Biggles' family isn't ever particularly closely examined, I don't think. I haven't read the "young Biggles" books, but I do recall the very poignant moment in The Camels are Coming when, forced to go home for some leave, Biggles visits his family home in London, which is empty and shut up. His brother and father are both fighting in France. Neither of them came back. I don't know if he ever explicitly talks about what happened to them -- my Dad (expert on all things Biggles except the manlove, which we very much DON'T DISCUSS) says that there is mention at one point of a Major Charles Bigglesworth (I think I'm remembering that name and rank correctly) buried in France, who is presumably his brother. But no further details. Poor Biggles.

Further to the slight angst in this book is the passage on the burden of command. When Biggles hears that Algy's plane has been shot down and he has been taken aboard a Japanese ship, there's nothing he can do about it. Stiffening his upper lip, he gets on with the task at hand, and I for one was crying aloud "You heartless bastard!" at this remark (420):
[Angus, who's just arrived] "No doot Taffy told ye about Henry waiting for the Gosling? That leaves two Liberators at Madras waiting for pilots. I'm sorry aboot Algy. Taffy told us."
Biggles nodded. "It'll make us short-handed."

Plotwise, stopping to freak out about Algy wouldn't help the pace, and besides, it would get in the way of what they're doing right then. So the boys all have to wait for a day and a night before they can rescue/be rescued. Happily, rather than letting us think Biggles is carrying on without a second thought for his captured boyfriend best friend ever and second in command, Johns gives us a small insight into what's going on behind that cool, calm exterior (425):
The thought of Algy a prisoner in enemy hands affected him far more than he was prepared to reveal to the others. Probably they felt the same. While he did not allow himself to dwell upon the possibility of Algy or Ginger becoming a casualty there was always a fear of it lurking in the background of his mind. If one of them went it would make a difference. The others would go on and the war would go on but things would not be the same. In war, duty... made no allowance for personal feelings: they were supposed not to exist... a man might feel it was considered weak to let others see any sort of emotion. The whole thing was of course a pose. Everyone who had fought an action knew it -- commanding officers more than anyone, although the rank and file did not always realise it; did not suspect that behind the dispassionate voice giving orders that would send men to their deaths, a man's heart was being mauled.
... Thus pondered Biggles, with gnawing anxiety in his heart, but with hardly a word of reference to Algy on his lips. His job was to get rubber, not indulge in private enterprises to satisfy personal feelings. Nevertheless...he was not prepared to let Algy go without making a desperate effort to save him.

So, for starters, Biggles is a good commander and a man of his position and time. And secondly, he is SO IN LOVE with his boys! His heart is being mauled! Oh, Biggles, you poor woobie!

I was sure I reviewed Defies the Swastika, but I can't seem to find it... maybe I dreamt it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that it's Algy, in Defies, who gets captured and interrogated by Biggles who is pretending to be a Norwegian quisling. Algy makes some incredibly smart arsed comment about being the world tiddly-winks champion, and Biggles has to pretend to be mean and Nazi instead of kissing him right on the lips, like we all know he wants to. Here, likewise, Algy shows his mettle by being a smart arse when captured (he has to get captured, otherwise Biggles would have no one to save, y/y?) (410):
"What were you doing in airplane?"
"Flying," answered Algy. ...
"What were you doing in the sea?"
"Swimming," replied Algy.
"Quite so. I mean, what are you doing here?" queried Tamashoa.
"Standing," replied Algy evenly. He did not smile.

And so on and so forth, because Algy rocks hard. The laughs are abruptly ended, however, when Tamashoa brings out another prisoner and has him beheaded (412):
The executioner raised his sword. Algy watched the beginning of the downward stroke and turned away.

And later, as we know, Algy will grab that same sword and go charging through the house looking for Tamashoa. The fact that he calls him "That poodle-faking admiral" will in no way diminish his own passionate feelings, although it will cause readers to widen their eyes and say incredulously "Poodle WHAT-ing?!?"

In conclusion (at long freaking last), I find the actual climax of the book strangely anti-climactic. The boys don't get to be in the bombing of the Japanese fleet, they only get to watch it. In In the Orient Johns shoe-horned in a plane purely so that Biggles could have a dogfight with the chief baddie right at the end. In this, though, they watch a raid on the Japanese ships, and then get on with what they were there to do in the first place: ship rubber to India. The fact that rubber is used for many different purposes should in no way be used to conclude what has otherwise been, by and large, a surprisingly unsmutty review.

biggles on my mind

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