Its rather sad that so many wonderful children’s’ books do not appear to have survived from one generation to another. Of course there are endless examples of those that do: Peter Rabbit, Pooh, Wind in the Willows, all the Edith Nesbit titles, Frances Hodgson Burnett (very yuky though the Secret Garden was OK; set in Yorkshire, of course), Tolkein and Noel Streatfield.

Some, such as Rupert, Swallows and Amazons, Little Grey Rabbit and the Just William series seem to be kept alive only by those who were childhood afficandos years ago. Other titles were shamed into oblivion such as Epaminondas, Little Black Sambo and most of the Enid Blyton material (though the latter seems to have remarkable resilience).

But what about the others? I was lucky: I grew up in a home with three siblings and all of us were encouraged to read, read, read. From my elder brother’s books I was able to enjoy My Friend Mr. Leakey, The Log of the Ark and Golden Island.

All minor classics in their time but now most likely out-of-print.

My favorite from my sister’s titles was the Family from One-End Street which does seem to be a survivor though heavily criticized for its class stereo-typing.

From my own childhood there are Ditta’s Tree, the Meeting Pool and Roger Lancelyn Green’s retelling of the ancient classics. Now long disappeared from most bookshelves. My younger brother added Stig of the Dump, also a survivor, to my inventory.

“Children Catching Criminals” seems to be a favorite theme that transcended all our generations: Emil & the Detectives (1929), the very similar Otterbury Incident (1948) and A Hundred Million Francs (1958) all tell essentially the same tale and these three seem to be still around.

And what of the more recent material? Will Harry Potter be around fifty years from now?