How Modesty Influenced My Life...

Below are some interviews on how the character of Modesty Blaise has influenced people's life or work. If you'd like to contribute a piece of your own, please email me - you don't have to be an author, just a Modesty fan! So far we have:

 

Manjula Padmanabhan

The first article was written for an on-line publication back in 1997 (hence the reference to the 1990s), and the second article ten years later...further testament to Modesty's timlessness.

The Incredible Modesty Blaise (1997)

Until Modesty Blaise came along, female characters in the comic strips tended to be wimps, vamps or noodle-heads. There were the endlessly weeping heroines of such strips as The Heart of Juliet Jones or the sexy-ridiculous variety of Betty Boop. There were the Sheenas of the Jungle and the hapless Jane, who always managed to lose all her clothes in front of an audience of delighted men by the final frame of each day's strip (literally!)

A few characters were more robust. There were the career girls like Brenda Starr (a journalist-detective), as well as super-heroines like Wonder Woman, the Amazon with her magic lasso and Supergirl, Superman's blonde and petite cousin from the doomed planet, Kyrpton. In the heyday of the crime-fighters, there were any number of curvaceous companions for the gorgeously muscled male vigilantes, a Batgirl for every Batman.

Then there are the long-suffering wives like Flo of Andy Capp, the battle-axe wives like Maggie of Bringing Up Father and the cute-smart wives like Blondie of Blondie. There are little girl heroines like Li'l Orphan Anie and female fall-gals like Daisy Mae of Li'l Abner. There are female companions like Minnie Mouse for Mickey, Daisy Duck for Donald and eternal girlfriends like Popeye's Olive Oyl. The Phantom has his dark-haired Diane Parker, Mandrake has Princess Narda, Tarzan has Jane. But no one, anywhere, has had quite the combination of assets, personality and sheer originality as Modesty Blaise.

Recently, while compiling the cuttings I've made of the strip over the years, I found that I had 25 complete stories! She's been my role model since I first met her in 1965, when I was 12 (alas, all we share is hair-colour!). Her creator, Peter O'Donnel (who also created Garth), took two years to define her character. She was launched in 1963. Modesty was an orphan, Eurasian, grew up rough in refugee camps, became the leader of a crime-syndicate, made a fortune by her early 20s and retired from crime.

When we meet her, she and her companion Willie Garvin have agreed to work occasionally as unofficial agents for the British secret service. Forever 26, Modesty's physique is marvellous and her poise unflappable. Aside from being formidable at judo and karate, she can also perform emergency surgeries, make omelettes, carve emeralds, go hang-gliding, cure leather, weave baskets — in short, perform any task, physical or mental, with absolute and stunning competence.

None of this, however, is what makes her really special. There are countless female characters with magical abilities and superhuman strength. What sets Modesty part is her personal dignity and her total immunity to conventional romance. She and Willie, though they function with the efficiency of a pair of right and left hands, are not lovers. In fact, they are often at pains to explain that their affection and mutual dependence precludes any sexual entanglement. Both of them, separately and variously, have romantic encounters. But these detours never affect their own equation in any slightest way. There is, in the perfect balance of their caring for one another and their lack of possessive jealousy, something quite sublime.

Though Modesty herself never claims seniority in the relationship, Willie acknowledges that she is the one who calls his shots. He does this with remarkable elan, never losing one hair of his masculinity, never minding nor resenting it. He often suffers anxieties on Modesty's behalf, without ever condescending to her.

And she, on her part, never succumbs to the knotty situations she finds herself in: She can knock herself unconscious when she has to, but she doesn't permit herself the luxury of despair. If she is threatened with humiliation or rape, her response is to shrug it away as just another distraction. Though she is obviously and supremely attractive, she doesn't use her body to falsely entice a man, except when she feels that, by seducing a villain, she can achieve something positive. For instance, in Plato's Republic, she distracts the attention of Plato from the young Melinda who was his original target.

She can sometimes have sex in a coolly detached fashion, to help a friend get over a trauma for instance, with no loss or discomfort to herself. Though we see her in her trade-mark black bra atleast once in every episode, she always maintains her decorum. We neither witness her whinnying in the throes of passion nor sobbing hysterically in fear or pain. She is scrupulously fair in all her dealings, even with villains. And she is, in her own words, "...a compulsive payer of debts."

Her only vices, so far as I can see, are wearing make-up and smoking. But she's only being true to her era, the 1960s. In the '90s, I have no doubt, she'd clip her nails, sip mineral water and be fighting the multinationals instead of the Russians.

Modesty Forever (2007)

I've always known that Modesty Blaise occupied a very special place in my personal pantheon of fictional idols. Still, it was only when I read the final book of the 13 volumes of Penguin India's Modesty Blaise Retro-Revival series that the depth of my feeling for her reached out and punched me in the tear ducts.

As any MB fan knows, the thirteenth book (COBRA TRAP), is the one in which Modesty and her peerless partner Willie Garvin, shuffle off their perfectly proportioned, superbly coordinated and much-scarred mortal coils. I had always assumed that it was a novel, but no, it's the title story of a collection of five shorts. The book was first published in 1996 and like fans everywhere, I've been aware of it for all these years. But I'd never read it nor did I particularly want to. It's been a while since I felt much curiosity about Modesty and Willie and the last time I read one of her novels was really a long time ago - in the eighties, I think (LAST DAY IN LIMBO).

So when I received the complete set of MB books from India*, sent for review in OUTLOOK magazine, I was mildly amused at the prospect of re-immersing myself in that world of fast-paced adventure. It was only going to be a 250-word review so I didn't plan to read all 13 books before my deadline. I read the first six, wrote the review, sent it off and settled down to read the remaining seven at my leisure. My plan was to blog about the whole series at length, once I'd read the lot.

But here I am, at the end of the fifteen-day cycle - one book a day, with a break in the middle to write the review - feeling most uncharacteristically wet around the gills! It's VERY weird. Because, let's be clear - this is a comic-strip heroine. While she certainly has gorgeous legs and elegant combat skills and the books are thrilling to read, they are by no means showcases of deathless prose, nor (I'm sure) were they ever meant to be. They're adventure-thrillers centred upon a pair of tremendously likeable characters and that's all, that's everything.

So why this upwelling of grief? Why do I care? Why does the fictional death of a fictional heroine affect me so much?

Well …

It's like this: I first met Modesty in the comics' pages of the Bangkok World, in Thailand, when I was a short, dumpy, lonely, unhappy 12-year-old. Forty-two years later, I am only slightly taller, exactly as dumpy and though not quite as lonely or unhappy, long shadows remain of all the cumulative confusions dating from those three years in Thailand. Perhaps that's part of the reason why Modesty made such a deep impression upon me: I met her when I most needed an anchor and she didn't let me down. She was only a tiny, black-clad figure in a comic strip, but she imparted to me - and no doubt to millions of other confused youngsters like me around the world - important lessons about self-empowerment and self-reliance.

She was no steely-eyed vigilante, spy or detective. When she drew her sights upon wrong-doers it was because they had crossed paths with her and caused her to notice their moral deviance. She had strong loyalties and even stronger friendships. And though it may have been tempting to regard her as a standard-bearer for a certain kind of sixties' era feminism, in truth she was too much of an original to fit within the boundaries of any "-isms".

As a female character, perhaps her most striking quality was that she was resolutely heart-free. She had lovers a-plenty, entering into her romantic entanglements with enthusiasm and flair, but her heart was always her own absolute preserve. We never saw her moping over a paramour or listening anxiously to the ticking of her biological clock. The prospect of rape didn't terrify her, nor did she obsess over unpleasant sexual encounters once they were over. She was astoundingly talented in several arenas of the martial arts and yet she was never merely a warrior: she didn't fight for the pleasure of combat or for blood-lust, but because she had her favourite causes and she liked to save the lives of those who entered her field of influence. She wasn't a tedious old harangue-hag and she had moments of tremendous fun which included such commonplace pleasures as tobogganing or eating icecream at a village fair or going for a swim.

You can read the rest of the article here.

Manjula's latest updates can be found at www.marginalien.blogspot.com, and you can view an on-line show of her prints at http://www.anothersubcontinent.com/manjula1.html.

 


Anna Toss

Anna Toss wrote this in April 2010 as a tribute for Peter O'Donnell's 90th birthday.

Thank you Peter O'Donnell, for letting me be part Modesty

A surprising amount of people look nothing like who they really are. The little old lady next to you on the bus might actually be the Queen of Sheba. The handsome, tattooed guy at the cash registry in the supermarket might be a shy and poetic elf. Take me for example: to the unsuspecting eye, I might look like an ordinary middle-aged mom, but on the inside, I'm Modesty Blaise.

Modesty never loses her head, no matter what happens. Modesty never gets needlessly anxious. Modesty always knows what to do. She's sensitive, but always keeps her balance.

To those of you who're now smirking and thinking that that sounds pretty unlike me: you're not completely wrong. I'm not as cool as Modesty, but that's okay. Without her I'd be a reed in the wind, a cow on the ice, a rubber duck on the ocean. She's helped me keep my grip on many occasions, both trivial and some fairly adventurous. "What would Modesty do?" I've thought, and then I've let her steer my actions. Modesty herself doesn't have any children, but she has been an invaluable support for me as a mother. When the kids had accidents I already knew (after having read innumerable Modesty books and comics) how to pre-empt blood poisoning, prevent snakebites and treat gunshot wounds, stubbed toes and splinters in fingers.

Of course I'm not the only one who likes Modesty. (There are probably a ton of secret Modestys walking the streets all around the world.) A couple of years ago my youngest daughter and I made a journey to London and met up with a bunch of other Modesty-lovers, and were guided around town by an expert in all things Modesty (and all things London, MI5 and MI6; very interesting!)

The man who created Modesty Blaise is called Peter O'Donell, and it's his 90th birthday today. Congratulations, Mr. O'Donnell, and a deeply felt thank-you for a life with the best internal compass in the world.


You can read the full article and see some more Modesty images on Anna's blog.

 

Vicki Delany

Author Vicki Delany has this to say about Modesty's influence on her writing:

My 'forgotten book' isn’t a single book, but a series, a character really: Modesty Blaise, star of the books by Peter O’Donnell, written roughly in the late 1960s and 70s. Like many women who were once girls, I particularly remember being introduced to Nancy Drew, ‘girl detective’. We followed her adventures with enthusiasm, and thought she had a wildly exciting life; but at heart we knew that Nancy was “safe.” Nancy had a good home, a loving father, loyal friends, a stouthearted boyfriend, lots of money, and even a housekeeper to provide the necessities of life so that Nancy could devote her time to sleuthing rather than cooking her father’s dinner.

We knew that eventually Nancy would have to grow up. Her life would then be totally predictable--as predictable as our lives were going to be. She would leave school, marry Ned Nickerson (or some equally suitable boy from her social set), have 2.5 children, acquire a Golden Retriever, do volunteer work, and start popping Valium.

It wasn’t until I was in my late 20s, settled down (like I imagined Nancy Drew was), with a husband, house, children, and dog that I first came across the Modesty Blaise books.

Modesty Blaise was nothing at all like my friends and me. She was exotic, mysterious, and had a shady criminal past. She was all grown up and she still had an exciting life. Modesty had once been the leader of a notorious criminal gang called “The Network,” and now, having given up her life of crime, she and her sidekick, Willie Garvin, traveled the world fighting wrongs.

Reading about Modesty Blaise for the first time was like being hit by a thunderbolt. Those books probably gave me my first realization that adult women could be strong and fearless and independent.
Just like men.

In the crime-writing world today there are plenty of strong women, but Modesty blazed (pardon the pun) the trail. Her beginnings were in a displaced person’s camp in Greece at the end of World War II. She was simply discovered, a young girl surviving on her own, with no idea of where she came from or who she was. She was taken under the wing of a man named Lob, who educated her and taught her that people could be trusted. Lob gave her the name Modesty because, well, she had none. She chose the last name Blaise herself.

Unlike Nancy Drew, Modesty was a survivor, a woman who knew from the very beginning that she had to look after herself. As an adult, Modesty took over control of a criminal gang called “The Network.” Even when Modesty was a criminal, she was a “good” crook, and she ran The Network like a business, caring for her employees and strictly avoiding anything to do with vice. Modesty would never prey, or allow anyone working for her to prey, on the weak and helpless.

Eventually Modesty Blaise retired, and disbanded The Network. She moved to England and attempted to live the life of the idle rich, her only contact from her criminal days being her ever-loyal right-hand man, Willie Garvin.

The relationship between Modesty and Willie forms the crux of the books. She is, clearly, the boss. He adores her, and respects her, but they are never lovers. In the first book Modesty has to rescue Willie from prison, where he’s been confined after recklessly joining a mercenary group after the disbanding of The Network. Thus their relationship is set--she is in charge and he is the sidekick.

If there is an earlier adult adventure/crime book in which the female is the main character, and the male the sidekick, I don’t know of it.

In retrospect, I can see that Modesty is what she started out as--a cartoon character. Modesty is beautiful, wealthy (no trust-fund babe or rich man’s widow here--she earned all her money herself), the leader of men, a successful businesswoman, multilingual, an expert in unarmed combat, intelligent, fiercely loyal to her friends, and dangerous to her enemies.

She is no more realistic than Nancy Drew, but Modesty provided women with an example of what women can achieve, both in terms of careers and in relationships. Fictionally speaking, Modesty showed us that a woman could be not only the protagonist in an adventure book, but a multidimensional character as well. And she didn’t even have to sleep with anyone!

As a crime writer, and as an independent woman, I owe a lot to Modesty Blaise.

Q: Can you elaborate more on how Modesty influenced your writing?

I hadn’t thought about Modesty Blaise in years, but when I was invited to contribute to Patti Abbott’s Friday’s Forgotten Books, she immediately came to mind. Which is, I guess, the definition of a forgotten book. As I wrote in that article, the Modesty Blaise books had a strong influence on me when I was a young woman. You can read about it Pattinase's blog (and I won’t go into detail here). When Helen Evans approached me, wondering if there were any traces of Modesty in my own books, I realized that there certainly is. I can’t say that I was actually thinking about Modesty when I began my mystery series, but she was probably in the back of my mind.

My contemporary police procedural series, featuring Constable Molly Smith and the fictional town of Trafalgar, British Columbia, (In the Shadow of the Glacier, Valley of the Lost, Poisoned Pen Press) stars a not-very-Modesty-like heroine. Molly Smith comes from a close, loving family, and her biggest worry is that her mother’s political activism and well-meaning meddling will interfere with her fledging police career. As Molly thinks, “It was hard, sometimes, to be a cop in a town where a substantial number of the residents had seen you performing as Number Two Wise Man in the Grade Three Christmas pageant.”

The protagonist of my new historical series (Gold Digger: A Klondike Mystery, Rendezvous Crime, 2009) however, is very much in the Modesty Blaise mold. Fiona MacGillivray owns one-half of the Savoy Saloon and Dance Hall in Dawson, Yukon Territory in June 1898 (The height of the great Klondike Gold Rush). Fiona is, shall we say, a woman with a past. I intend to reveal details of Fiona’s past as the series unfolds, so beware, minor spoilers follow.

Although she spent the first ten years of her life in the bosom of a poor, yet loving family, unlike Modesty who has no recollection of her childhood until she was in a displaced persons camp, Fiona was forced to face the world on her own when her parents were murdered. Like Modesty, she was lucky enough to find refuge with people who offered the lost child some protection from the harsher world. Like Peter O’Donnell seems to believe when creating Modesty’s childhood, I also think that a child growing up with no model of kindness cannot grow into a kind person. Fiona spent two years living with a band of travellers (aka gypsies), where they taught her about surviving in an environment well out of the mainstream. The travellers recognize that in a class-ridden society Fiona’s cut-glass English accent (acquired while she, the groundskeeper’s daughter, was educated alongside the Earl’s daughter) has great value, and they work hard to ensure that she maintains it. For reasons I haven’t yet decided upon, after two years with the travellers, the twelve-year old Fiona finds herself alone in London. She is taken on by a Fagin-like character, running a string of underage criminals through the back streets and slums of London. There Fiona improves upon some of the skills she learned from the travellers – how to pick a man’s pocket as well as a lock, how to disable a policeman enough to get away, to recognize good jewellery verses fake, to hold her own in a brawl. Like Modesty, Fiona MacGillivray thrives in a life of crime, but she is still able to keep her morals intact. Fiona never takes from anyone who has less than she. She is hard and self-centred, but she is willing to champion the underdog. Taking her skills learned in the slums of London, Fiona abandons (again for reasons undecided) her London protector and his brood of street waifs. She is beautiful and resourceful, well-educated and her accent is perfect enough that she can move in the upper classes with ease. Using her wits and her resources, and a good bit of luck, she rises through late-Victorian society, as far as the Prince of Wales’ inner circle. A woman has to survive, and Fiona funds her lifestyle by working as what I call a second-story-woman. She is, in fact, a burglar.

Here’s a piece from Gold Digger:
"For a while I believed I was back in London, dangling from a rope tossed out of the second-story bedroom of a Belgravia townhouse on a rainy February night. As usual, I was dressed in men’s clothes, all in black. I had a pocket full of rings and necklaces and a sack containing the family’s good silver tossed across my back, and I was trying not to breathe too loudly while a constable, tardy on his rounds for one cursed night, stood below, sneaking a quick smoke."

Unlike Modesty, who controls an entire criminal network, Fiona works alone. Also unlike Modesty, Fiona has to flee England when she’s caught with her hand in her weekend host’s mother’s jewellery case. She escapes to Canada under another name, and resumes her career. Four years later, she again leaves town, again closely pursued by the law. Her son, Angus, is now twelve years old, and Fiona decides it’s time to take up a more law-abiding profession. Using the funds from the sale of stolen property, she purchases passage for Angus and herself to the Yukon Territory in time to join the great gold rush. Once in Dawson, she wants to settle down and go straight, and so purchases one half of a dance hall. But sometimes, old habits are hard to break.

Here is a passage from Gold Fever, the second book in the series. Fiona realizes that a drinker in her bar has just picked another customer’s pocket.

"The last thing we needed was for word to spread that someone had been robbed inside the Savoy. The earth had gone around the sun more than a few times since I’d worked the streets: if I got caught, I’d be in serious trouble. The well-dressed man drained his drink and shook his head when Murray offered to pour another. I crossed the room and slid into the space vacated by the drunk. 'I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening, Mr…?'
He smiled at me, and his eyes fell to the neck of my gown. 'Smith,' he said.
'Mr. Smith. I don’t believe you’ve been in the Savoy before. Are you new to town?'
'Arrived day before yesterday, Ma’am.'
'How lovely,' I let the fingers of my left hand flutter across his chest. I danced them around the edges of his lapels and licked my lips. I looked at the cufflinks and allowed my eyes to widen in appreciation, then raised them to look into his face."
'It’s getting late,' he said, his voice husky. 'Why don’t you and me go out for some fresh air?'
'I’m sorry,' I said, taking back my hand and stepping away. 'I’ve mistaken you for someone else.'
His face clouded over as I backed off. I rushed into the dance hall. The caller was announcing that it was almost time to close the place down. The young man was thanking Betsy for the dance.
I hugged the walls so that I would come up behind him. 'Sir, sir,' I said, tapping his shoulder. He turned and I held up his money pouch. Heavy it was too - if he’d been sober he might have missed it. 'You dropped this.'
He took it from me. The percentage girl looked at me suspiciously. 'Can’t be too careful,' I said."

I think Modesty Blaise is a great role model: for Fiona MacGillivray and, perhaps just a little, for me as well.


  Learn more about Vicki and her books at www.vickidelany.com. She blogs, along with four other mystery authors, about the writing life at http://typem4murder.blogspot.com.