Gobbolino the Witch's Cat

I have a 1980s Puffin version of Gobbolino the Witch’s Cat (1942) by Ursula Moray Williams. It’s one of the first books that I remember reading to myself, around, I should imagine, the age of 5 or 6. Re-reading it to my smaller children, I was astounded at how much, and how vividly, I remembered it. (It clearly resonated with many, as it appears you can obtain the same edition for up to £80. Better hold on to mine.)

Williams (the “Moray” was a middle name, an affectation on her father’s behalf) was born in 1911, and died in 2006. Her father was a classics teacher at Bedales, and her mother was trained in the Froebel method. (There’s a phD thesis to be done, somewhere, on the importance of both classics and Froebel in children’s literature. Enid Blyton was also trained in Froebel, and I couldn’t help noticing, though she isn’t a children’s author, that Iris Murdoch had been to a Froebel school.)

Williams had publishing connections, as her uncle was Stanley Unwin. In short, she was from a pretty standard middle-class background, and seems to have been an all round good egg, serving as a magistrate, and being modest about her work. (She was also married to a descendent of Robert Southey, the poet laureate, and target of Lord Byron.)

Like many of her books, such as The Little Wooden Horse, about a sentient toy, Gobbolino is episodic, and written in balanced, finely judged prose. The little kitten, Gobbolino, with his “beautiful blue eyes”, is born to a witch’s cat, Greymalkin - who must be from Macbeth - and has a twin sister, Sootica, who is much more suited to the role than he is: he has one white paw and is, shock horror, almost a tabby cat. (Interestingly, Williams had a twin sister, Barbara.) All Gobbolino wants is to be a kitchen cat: not for him the seductions of magical power. Sootica is happy to live amongst toads in a cave on Hurrican Mountain with a witch: but as Gobbolino later courageously says, all witches come to a bad end, and nobody likes them.

Gobbolino means “little hunchback” in Italian; it also has affinities with goblins and Pinnochio, both of which are relevant to the book. The narrative comprises his quest for safety and acceptance. Entirely good-natured and generous, he is rejected as soon as people discover his magical abilities. He moves from worlds that are recognisable - orphanages, Lord Mayor’s houses, cat shows - to the worlds of fairy tale, as when he becomes the companion to a princess in a tower, who must choose between two suitors, neither of whom she wants to marry (and interestingly, one of whom is black, based, I imagine, on a Saracen knight).

At one point Gobbolino even takes on the part of Toby the Dog in a Punch and Judy show. One of the strangest and most powerful episodes sees Gobbolino on a ship, where a witch follows him and causes a storm: he must save the sailors by jumping on the witch’s shadow, but by doing so, will reveal his abilities, and thus cause himself danger. City life, romance, the seven seas, the theatre, all are experienced and rejected in favour of semi-rural ease. Like Max in Where the Wild Things Are, he learns to be ethical, and gains the rewards of civilisation.

Witch’s magic, here, is malevolent rather than truly evil, and it’s a very clear moral choice that Gobbolino makes. Williams’ mother was a devout Christian, and though it’s not explicit, there are religious undertones in Gobbolino’s selflessness. I think it’s significant, too, that this was published in the middle of the Second World War, when darkness seemed to encroach. The wish of many soldiers was simply to return home and sit by the fire; as it was that of their children and relatives. Like many episodic children’s stories, the novel can be seen as a psychological journey, each episode teaching the young Gobbolino something about human nature, and how to be a functional, happy person.

Whilst modern child solo readers may find Gobbolino’s style too old-fashioned, and be unused to its vocabulary (I note with horror that a new edition glosses the word “handkerchief” - really?) it nevertheless remains an involving story, emotionally and narratively, and younger children will benefit from listening to it.

I’m glad that it remains in print, its simple tale of bravery, determination and kindness resonating still. There will always be horrors in the world; and there will always be people seeking the delights of family, good food, and a good fire.

** Philip Womack’s most recent novel, Ghostlord, is for 12+.