The Ogre Downstairs

Caspar, Johnny, and Gwinny’s mother Sally remarries, creating a state of affairs made especially fraught when their new stepfather Jack is both taciturn and strict. But the two stepbrothers – Malcolm and Douglas – help turn sibling rivalry into all-out conflict, compounded by Jack’s gift of two chemistry sets with some very unusual properties, one to one of Sally’s boys and the other to one of his own.

This riff on Jack and the Beanstalk is one of Diana Wynne Jones' best standalone fantasy titles. The twists come from the fact that the character of the giant (here nicknamed the Ogre) is "downstairs" and not up the sky as in the fairytale, and that it's the Ogre whose name is Jack and not the hero of the tale. All the Jones show more features are there: the fun with words (the compounds in the magic chemistry sets have abbreviations which remind me of homeopathic remedies), the sly Arthurian allusions (the most obvious being the girl Gwinny: Guinevere in British folklore was sometimes described as a giant's daughter) and, not least, the convoluted plot in a claustrophobic setting (a suburban terraced house).

What helps makes the story attractive are the conflict resolutions that emerge from the initially strained sibling relationships, combined with the increasingly sympathetic description of the Ogre as an ordinary adult with human failings rather than the mere monster of one's nightmares. But the real magic comes with the unexpected results of the chemistry experiments, another take on the kind of motif familiar from the universal tale of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by the prospect of changing bodies with somebody else, or becoming invisible? And of course, anybody who's ever had a flying dream, with all its associated surrealism, will recognise how the Ogre's children and stepchildren felt in the opening chapters. And how frustrating the experience can be.

http://calmgrove.wordpress.com/2013/01/09/ogre/ show less

DWJ is really, really, really good at family dynamics and at the way kids think. I enjoyed this on reread - I've read it before, but probably only once, and I was mixing it up mentally with Archer's Goon. The abusive dynamics are... complicated. I don't think it would be treated so lightly or the Ogre so humanized/redeemed in a book written more recently, and I don't know how I feel about that. Would recommend reading with caution if that's a trigger.

Further thoughts: I liked the Ogre realizing on-screen that he made a mistake by lying about why and to where Sally left. I liked that it's a moment of kid(s) having valuable and smart things to say to a parent and the parent taking that criticism in and growing from it. But also the show more details of some of the things the Ogre actually says and does---telling Caspar something to the effect of "I wish you were gone" in front of all his fucked up drunk friends, or his total inability to do any cooking or cleaning, or letting Ginny take on this gross woman-of-the-house role---are disturbingly immature, and the realization and apology would have be a lot deeper and more pervasive. I think to go there you'd need to get more about Sally's internal life, but kids' (totally valid) inability to really understand that their parents are people and relate to them that way is one of the main themes, so it makes sense that the story *doesn't*. At least Sally gets a crack in her mask of parenthood at the very end. show less

The ogre in this book is one of the most terrifying creatures in the world -- a stepdad. And apparently step-brothers aren't the best either, at least that's what Caspar, Johnny and Gwinny think. Mr. McIntyre likes to bark orders up the stairs and is constantly yelling at the kids to be quiet, hence the nickname "The Ogre". But one day, he brings home chemistry sets for his son Malcolm and for Johnny that turn out to be anything but standard. Is the magic that's unleashed the kind that will destroy everything or could it possibly be the kind that could bring this blended family together?

I loved this book. This isn't your typical DWJ fantasy and the magic is secondary to the family dynamics. But the book just felt so honest and real that show more I couldn't help becoming completely invested in the lives of these kids. I felt their elation at discovering magic, their exasperation at being constantly scolded, their slow changes of opinion as their step-family's true natures were revealed.

http://webereading.com/2012/11/how-dwj-saved-day.html show less

Published in 1974, this is an early DWJ and doesn't have quite the same polish as later works. The setting is a Brady Bunch blended family, with the children united only by trying to avoid the wrath of The Ogre, their (step)father. Who then adds (knowingly?) a couple of magical chemistry sets to the mix. Hilarity and chaos ensues.

It's very 1974. A running joke are vinyl records by the splendidly named band 'Indigo Rubber'. Where they only have one or two of them, so have to continually borrow. Not the Spotify world of today. Also the Ogre is first introduced to the family by offering the daughter a lift home and buying her ice cream. Wow, post-Saville Ogres are a lot different.

This is DWJ, and even if it's only early unpolished DWJ show more there are spots of brilliance, and a willingness to skate close to the edge. The animated toffee bars are the best thing here, even if they conclude with the 'euthansia by hot bathwater' scene.

It's not perfect. Some parts feel a little thin, the final resolution remains a bit unconvincing and we're never sure how we feel about The Ogre, or how much the Ogre knows about all the magic going on behind their back. One for the youngsters, or for the devoted DWJ fans. show less

The story of a gaggle of youngsters who can't stand their overbearing step-father and new step-brothers. They're given a chemistry set to bribe them into good behavior, but quickly discover that it can actually be used to make magic potions. The potions get them into ever more convoluted schemes and increasing amounts of trouble, until their dysfunctional household finally reaches a crisis point.

This is a really charming story, filled with little touches of 1970s Britain that I found quaint and sweet. Each of the children has a distinct and memorable personality, and the uses to which they put their magic are both imaginative and relatable (who wouldn't make their dolls come to life?). I was truthfully a bit troubled by how easily the show more step-father's constant yelling and intermittent hitting were explained away, but I think this is a generational divide rather than a narrative misstep. show less

This was really cute and fun, more so because it did have a fair amount of darkness and gravity. My favorite parts included the endlessly amusing adventures of the living toffee, toy grubs, and pet pipe (somehow the more hilarious for their frequent awful deaths), and Gwinny's list of the contents of the poisoned cake.

I'm still very confused about why this was in the YA section of the library, though! If nothing else, the cover clearly markets to a younger audience than that. I hope it was just a confused librarian and not someone worried that small children would get the wrong idea about poisoning a stepparent. ;)

Gosh, though, I hope at least some men in the seventies were more competent than the Ogre. The man can't cook or do the show more laundry. And his wife works! show less

Every time I pick up one of Jones' novels I am transorted and enthralled by the imaginitive worlds that she creates for her readers. This novel is set is a more realistic and modern time that many of her other classics, but it is noless fantastic. Jones ignoes a spark of magic through the most mundane of objects (a children's chemistry kit) and ignotes every little boys' fantasy with the ensuing highjinx. These include animated toffee, flying, and invisibility mixed in wth all the typical domestic drama that ensues from the merging of two households with rambunctious children. Anyone in need of a highthearted escape would do well to pick up this book!