It is interesting reading this at the same time I'm reading lots of Enid Blyton. In a way, they are the same books, a group of kids off on their own for a few days having an adventure. While Blyton is always moving, having an ADVENTURE, facing nefarious smugglers/kidnappers, Ransome feels more like a genuine children's adventure.

Very little happens (he will spend a paragraph with a lovely description of a dipper bird hopping in and out of the water) and the adventures have to come out of the children's imagination (instead of having Scooby Doo villains chasing them). It feels like the difference between creating adventures and having lots of things just happening to you.

The parents in Blyton seem downright neglectful, where Ransome's parents give them freedom but are still quite involved. Their mother is somewhere between being a mother and indulging their children's imaginary worlds.

All in all, I'd rather be a child in Ransome's world than Blyton's.