Diane Gabbott: List of her artwork

[Goof]

In that sense, "They Call Me a Coward!" from June 1971 was more successful. After failing to save a girl from falling off a cliff because she's scared of heights, Cathy Price is bullied as a coward at school. The bullying reaches the point where the bullies start a protest demonstration to get her expelled and she runs off. But the bullies are the only ones who call her a coward. Cathy isn't ostracised by the whole community for it, and the school seriously tries to clamp down on the bullying. The headmistress even handles Cathy compassionately: "Why do you blame yourself, Cathy? Because you discovered you weren't a storybook heroine? In real life - in a moment of crisis - how many of us are?"

That’s more like it! Thank you for these details. I had seen a couple of episodes of this story, but had forgotten it, and didn’t realise that you had written it up for the Jinty website. Your quote from the headmistress illustrates exactly what I think is wrong with Waves of Fear. The writer of the June story could have gone a lot further in modernising the “coward” genre - why does the heroine have to “redeem herself” by tackling the guard dog, if she was not to blame in the first place? – but perhaps that would be expecting too much of June in 1971. It does show however how a dramatic story can be built around an incident of “cowardice” without making all the supposedly responsible adults into Neanderthals. A Jinty story might well have gone a lot further, by producing a story where a heroine with a debilitating psychological condition might have to combat a vindictive group of people who persecute her for “cowardice”, without making any apology for her supposed failure. I think that Waves of Fear was a missed opportunity.

[Goof]

Jinty's "Wanda Whiter than White" is another story about compulsive truth telling that is used as serious drama. Wanda White is an irritating, self-righteous tattle tale who is despised by everyone. Even the school staff suffer because of her excessive tattling. But when it's revealed why Wanda carries on that way, it's a real surprise twist and definitely psychologically convincing.

Thank you for this. An interesting example of a very different treatment. Although the denoument has resemblances to the more usual treatment where the heroine is or feels forced to tell the truth, the main body of this story shows her appearing to do so freely, despite the harm she’s causing. Even the ending seems to leave us in doubt whether she has been doing this in expiation of the past, or out of revenge for it; and it’s a tribute to the strength of the portrayal of an emotionally damaged protagonist that either explanation would be psychologically convincing.

[Tammyfan]

Yes, I agree that the story could have given more emphasis to Shirley’s realisation that she was wrong to make a fetish out of truth-telling, but I think I can perhaps guess why this didn’t happen. Shirley’s problems arise from her decision never to tell a lie, but what caused that decision? The crux of the story seems to me to be Mrs Morris’ hysterical overreaction to Trisha’s accident. The moment where she physically attacks Shirley, then point-blank accuses her of being solely responsible for Trisha’s injury, leads to everything that follows. It’s this, coming on top of her own guilt trauma about the accident, which decides Shirley to swear the truth-telling oath, and to interpret everything that goes wrong afterwards as a punishment for what she believes she has done. It’s only when she fully realises that her truth-telling is damaging other people as well as herself that she understands that her reaction has been excessive (the decisive moment seems to come immediately after she’s admitted to hospital, where a close-up panel shows her wondering what to do). However the main thrust of the story is that Shirley’s troubles don’t come about primarily through her own wrong decision, but through pressures imposed on her by the faults of others – not just Mrs Morris, but Mrs Wilks, Evie Moore and even Trisha, whose headstrong disregard of risk (and Shirley’s advice) starts the whole thing.

Another thing that makes the psychology of Shirley Grey so realistic is what the story tells us about her personality at the beginning of the story. Trisha privately thinks Shirley is "such a worrier" and "frightened of her own shadow". Yes, she might be thinking that Shirley is fussing too much over her disobeying her mother's orders in going to Cactus Cove and disregarding the risks there. But it does imply that Shirley has anxiety issues and tends to react emotionally rather than rationally, maybe even overreact when she's stressed. Perhaps she inherited it from her mother (remember Mum's demented emotional reactions over Dad losing the promotion, leaving them stuck on the estate, and then the false shoplifting charge?). Anyway, it makes her extreme and unrelenting self-reproach conduct over Trisha's accident more believable. It would be less convincing if her personality was closer to Trisha's. Trisha, for her part, accepts the accident was her fault when she comes out of the coma, but she is not dwelling on it. We get the impression Shirley would if she were in Trisha's place.

[Goof]

I think you’re absolutely right. Shirley does indeed have a classic “worrier” temperament, and would for sure have blamed herself over Trisha’s accident even if nobody else had. And so, when Trisha’s mother went off the deep end, and irrationally blamed her for being solely responsible, she was easy meat for a guilt overreaction that she couldn’t escape or control. As you suggest, if the roles were reversed and it were Shirley who had been injured, Trisha would probably have been far less affected by a similar outburst from Shirley’s mother, and certainly wouldn’t have been driven to the extremes that Shirley was.

The more you dig into this story, the more you find the kind of psychological truth and penetration that comic stories aren’t supposed to have.

[Tammyfan]

I think you’re absolutely right. Shirley does indeed have a classic “worrier” temperament, and would for sure have blamed herself over Trisha’s accident even if nobody else had. And so, when Trisha’s mother went off the deep end, and irrationally blamed her for being solely responsible, she was easy meat for a guilt overreaction that she couldn’t escape or control. As you suggest, if the roles were reversed and it were Shirley who had been injured, Trisha would probably have been far less affected by a similar outburst from Shirley’s mother, and certainly wouldn’t have been driven to the extremes that Shirley was.

The more you dig into this story, the more you find the kind of psychological truth and penetration that comic stories aren’t supposed to have.

I can relate to that and understand Shirley's psychology because I have similar traits. But unlike Shirley, a good yelling from my parents would snap me out of a ruminating guilt complex like that.

I'll bet that even before Mrs Morris' hysterical reactions Shirley was beginning to regret she hadn't spoken up about Trisha's whereabouts earlier or maybe even in the first place. Then the fright of Mrs Morris' physical attack and the shock of hearing what happened to Trisha (which must have prompted a "what have I done?" reaction) had Mrs Morris' line "It's all your fault!" going straight into Shirley's head like a hypnotic suggestion. From then on it was stuck there like earworm and Shirley kept repeating it over and over - "It's all my fault!" - despite Trisha being at least partially responsible for the accident as well in disobeying orders, disregarding warnings and telling Shirley to cover up about her whereabouts. The writer did a brilliant job of setting the stage and buildup to Shirley's guilt overreaction. Her extremes in truth-telling, such as telling Mrs Wilkes baldly that her dress is "hideous" instead of expressing the truth in a more tactful or backhand way (such as "it's very, uh, you"), reflect the extremity of her reactions to the events that triggered it.

Jinty's "Blind Faith" was another story where a girl (Clare Hollings) irrationally and unwaveringly blames herself for an accident after an adult (her father) shouts at her that it's all her fault. Although Mum tells him his outburst was unfair and he soon regrets it, the damage is done. He triggered a guilt overreaction in Clare, but at least her response to it is more productive than Shirley's. Perhaps it was the same writer. If you are interested, scans of the accident and story entry can be found here: https://jintycomic.wordpress.com/2020/0 ... aith-1980/

In similar vein is Jinty's "Tearaway Trisha" (https://jintycomic.wordpress.com/2020/0 ... isha-1980/), where Trisha blames herself for an accident that puts a girl in hospital after the girl's hysterical mother blames her. Admittedly Trisha had been asking for trouble with reckless cycling, but the accident started with a greasy patch on the road. Later, it is established that other factors contributed to the accident, including the girl's own mother, but that doesn't stop Trisha suffering guilt and blame from the accident.

[Tammyfan]

Your comparison of the writers of Shirley Grey and Waves of Fear strikes a chord with me. Although my response to the two stories was totally different, I too can see a resemblance. As well as the crazy wife/ineffectual husband combination that you describe, I can see a correspondence in the way the stories seek to develop and sharpen a well-used genre that had become clichéd. However, for me, one case was a complete success and the other a failure.

The compulsive truth-telling story made regular appearances in girls’ comics, but mainly as comedies of farcical misunderstandings. It’s interesting though that even the most apparently light-hearted examples have a way of turning serious despite themselves because eventually the predicament of the heroine becomes too awful to be funny. “The Happy Days” has a striking instance, where Sue takes a bet to tell the truth and causes so much damage that even her father gets angry with her – something pretty much unique in the series. I think this shows that there was clear potential to adapt the genre to a powerful tragic drama for a writer who could make the truth-telling compulsion psychologically convincing - as I believe the “Shirley Grey” writer certainly does.

In a variation of this, there were also stories about no concept of white lies or not telling tales causing problems for aliens on planet Earth. Petra the Perfect Stranger (Tracy) and Mindreader Mina (Bunty) are examples of this.

[Goof]

I can relate to that and understand Shirley's psychology because I have similar traits.

Welcome to the worriers’ club! I and half my family have the same affliction.

The writer did a brilliant job of setting the stage and buildup to Shirley's guilt overreaction. Her extremes in truth-telling, such as telling Mrs Wilkes baldly that her dress is "hideous" instead of expressing the truth in a more tactful or backhand way (such as "it's very, uh, you"), reflect the extremity of her reactions to the events that triggered it.

I agree again that Shirley’s excessive reaction drives her to be unnecessarily blunt in truth-telling. I’m not sure she could have allowed herself to say “It’s very you” to Mrs Wilkes, as the main reason to lie was that the outfit didn’t suit or even fit her, but she could easily have said simply “I don’t like it”, which would have stuck to the truth while hopefully giving less offence. However, the notion that the truth-telling obligation was a form of punishment already possessed Shirley, and drove her to make the truth sound as bad as possible.

Jinty's "Blind Faith" was another story where a girl (Clare Hollings) irrationally and unwaveringly blames herself for an accident after an adult (her father) shouts at her that it's all her fault. Although Mum tells him his outburst was unfair and he soon regrets it, the damage is done. He triggered a guilt overreaction in Clare, but at least her response to it is more productive than Shirley's. Perhaps it was the same writer. If you are interested, scans of the accident and story entry can be found here: https://jintycomic.wordpress.com/2020/0 ... aith-1980/

In similar vein is Jinty's "Tearaway Trisha" (https://jintycomic.wordpress.com/2020/0 ... isha-1980/), where Trisha blames herself for an accident that puts a girl in hospital after the girl's hysterical mother blames her. Admittedly Trisha had been asking for trouble with reckless cycling, but the accident started with a greasy patch on the road. Later, it is established that other factors contributed to the accident, including the girl's own mother, but that doesn't stop Trisha suffering guilt and blame from the accident.

Blind Faith and Tearaway Trisha are an interesting contrast. Although they start from the same kind of hysterical blame-calling as Shirley, in these stories the protagonists’ guilt becomes the driving force behind heroic efforts to put matters right – in Trisha’s case raising money for Fran’s treatment, for Clare the apparently impossible job of winning a racing trophy with a blind horse. Although guilt is the starting point, they are essentially battle-against-the-odds stories of a kind that is fairly familiar - although the sheer apparent craziness of Clare’s aim, and some stunning action art from Andrew Wilson for Tearaway Trisha, give them a striking individuality.

The consequences of Shirley’s predicament are grimly realistic. There’s nothing dramatically heroic that Shirley can do to save Trisha, and the fact that she can’t even express her sympathy properly because she’s been banned from Trisha’s bedside simply adds fuel to her urge to self-punishment. But it’s another big tribute to the writer’s skill that these restrictions actually set us up for a redemptive ending; Shirley is given her chance to help Trisha only when the crisis of her despair has landed her in hospital with her.

[Tammyfan]

I can relate to that and understand Shirley's psychology because I have similar traits.

The consequences of Shirley’s predicament are grimly realistic. There’s nothing dramatically heroic that Shirley can do to save Trisha, and the fact that she can’t even express her sympathy properly because she’s been banned from Trisha’s bedside simply adds fuel to her urge to self-punishment. But it’s another big tribute to the writer’s skill that these restrictions actually set us up for a redemptive ending; Shirley is given her chance to help Trisha only when the crisis of her despair has landed her in hospital with her.

And when the nurse allows Shirley to visit Trisha's bedside secretly after crazy Mrs Morris won't let her near her. I suspect their edict that only immediate family could visit Trisha was also intended to keep Shirley away from Trisha. It was probably prompted by Shirley asking Mrs Morris if she could join her in a visit to Trisha, but all she got in reply was another hate-crazed hysterical outburst and physical attack. Shirley finally being given a chance to put things right (in her own mind) and pouring her energies into rousing Trisha instead of wallowing in guilt helped her to work her way through her guilt complex. I think focusing on helping Trisha distracted her from the "it's all my fault" rumination and helped her to process it. Until then, it kept going around in her head because she wasn't processing it, and her parents weren't getting professional help for that despite their ranting that she needed to see a doctor. Eventually, she stopped paying attention to it, maybe even forgetting about it entirely, and that's how she stopped blaming herself. It does sound as if Shirley had forgotten it until big-mouthed Mrs Morris reminded her of the trouble it had caused (right in front of her sick daughter who was still weak from her coma), and Shirley collapsed in tears over it. In the following episode we see she is mulling over her excessive truth-telling and how it's ruined people's lives. Come on, Shirley, it did upset them, but I wouldn't say it went as far as to wreck their lives! It looks like you still have lessons to learn about not overreacting and not be such a worrier.

[Tammyfan]

I can relate to that and understand Shirley's psychology because I have similar traits.

Welcome to the worriers’ club! I and half my family have the same affliction.

The writer did a brilliant job of setting the stage and buildup to Shirley's guilt overreaction. Her extremes in truth-telling, such as telling Mrs Wilkes baldly that her dress is "hideous" instead of expressing the truth in a more tactful or backhand way (such as "it's very, uh, you"), reflect the extremity of her reactions to the events that triggered it.

I agree again that Shirley’s excessive reaction drives her to be unnecessarily blunt in truth-telling. I’m not sure she could have allowed herself to say “It’s very you” to Mrs Wilkes, as the main reason to lie was that the outfit didn’t suit or even fit her, but she could easily have said simply “I don’t like it”, which would have stuck to the truth while hopefully giving less offence. However, the notion that the truth-telling obligation was a form of punishment already possessed Shirley, and drove her to make the truth sound as bad as possible.

Yes, I also suspect Shirley was subconsciously punishing herself with that truth-telling vow, which was why it got her into so much trouble. In several of the situations where she gets herself into trouble with her truth-telling vow, she could have avoided it if she'd thought outside the box more (like saying "Sorry, I can't tell you" or cross her fingers and tell a lie). It's also why she relentlessly persists with it expressions like "I can't help it" or "I've explained that" when everyone keeps telling her to cut it out, it's not possible to go through life without fibbing a bit now and then. But it finally sinks in that it's hurting others, and it's what drives her to run off. And when she finds herself back at Cactus Cove where it all began, why does she climb down to the dangerous ledge where Trisha had her accident? More self-inflicted punishment. Subconsciously thinking that having an accident there too is the only way to expunge what she thinks she did.

[Tammyfan]

Blind Faith and Tearaway Trisha are an interesting contrast. Although they start from the same kind of hysterical blame-calling as Shirley, in these stories the protagonists’ guilt becomes the driving force behind heroic efforts to put matters right – in Trisha’s case raising money for Fran’s treatment, for Clare the apparently impossible job of winning a racing trophy with a blind horse. Although guilt is the starting point, they are essentially battle-against-the-odds stories of a kind that is fairly familiar - although the sheer apparent craziness of Clare’s aim, and some stunning action art from Andrew Wilson for Tearaway Trisha, give them a striking individuality.

The consequences of Shirley’s predicament are grimly realistic. There’s nothing dramatically heroic that Shirley can do to save Trisha, and the fact that she can’t even express her sympathy properly because she’s been banned from Trisha’s bedside simply adds fuel to her urge to self-punishment. But it’s another big tribute to the writer’s skill that these restrictions actually set us up for a redemptive ending; Shirley is given her chance to help Trisha only when the crisis of her despair has landed her in hospital with her.

Another thing that makes it even grimmer is how Mrs Morris keeps blaming Shirley, hating her and even assaulting her. If Shirley's parents tried to explain to her why Shirley shouldn't be blamed like that (but we see no evidence that they did), she was not listening. As far as we can tell, Mr Morris isn't carrying on the same way towards Shirley, but we see even less of him than his wife. And what investigation was conducted into the matter anyway? The police were involved, so you would think they'd be asking questions about what led Trisha's accident and why. In the cases of Trisha and Clare, the adults who shouted blame at them in a fit of hysteria soon regretted it, but not Mrs Morris. It was not until Shirley got Trisha out of the coma that she finally did.

[Goof]

Another thing that makes it even grimmer is how Mrs Morris keeps blaming Shirley, hating her and even assaulting her. If Shirley's parents tried to explain to her why Shirley shouldn't be blamed like that (but we see no evidence that they did), she was not listening.

Yes, it’s Mrs Morris’s crazed overreaction that really sets the whole thing off, by pushing Shirley’s guilt into overkill, and from that point on, most of the adult characters just keep making things worse. But looking at the story again, I was struck by how subtly the writer balances this with a few examples of responsible and caring adult behaviour.

The main example is Nurse Jones, whose intervention, at the risk of disciplinary action for disobeying orders, gives Shirley the chance to revive Trisha. Gruff in manner and quite unsentimental, she’s imaginative and sympathetic enough to understand Shirley’s condition and to forgive her for her own share of the flak from Shirley’s truth-telling. There’s a brilliant panel at the point where an overwrought Shirley flings herself into Jones’ arms, and Gabbott captures the nurse’s reaction perfectly (Gabbott’s command of facial expression is wonderful throughout the story).

Another example which struck me is a tiny vignette of a character – the police diver who saves Shirley’s life. Police characters in girls’ stories were by this time a long way from the avuncular Dock Green types of early days, but under the influence of TV police dramas they had largely been replaced by hard-nosed emotionless tough guys. This one is different. For the brief moment he appears, his desperate “Come on! Come on!” as he fights for a child’s life brings him into sudden, sharp, relief.

[Tammyfan]

Yes, it’s Mrs Morris’s crazed overreaction that really sets the whole thing off, by pushing Shirley’s guilt into overkill, and from that point on, most of the adult characters just keep making things worse. But looking at the story again, I was struck by how subtly the writer balances this with a few examples of responsible and caring adult behaviour.

The main example is Nurse Jones, whose intervention, at the risk of disciplinary action for disobeying orders, gives Shirley the chance to revive Trisha. Gruff in manner and quite unsentimental, she’s imaginative and sympathetic enough to understand Shirley’s condition and to forgive her for her own share of the flak from Shirley’s truth-telling. There’s a brilliant panel at the point where an overwrought Shirley flings herself into Jones’ arms, and Gabbott captures the nurse’s reaction perfectly (Gabbott’s command of facial expression is wonderful throughout the story).

Another example which struck me is a tiny vignette of a character – the police diver who saves Shirley’s life. Police characters in girls’ stories were by this time a long way from the avuncular Dock Green types of early days, but under the influence of TV police dramas they had largely been replaced by hard-nosed emotionless tough guys. This one is different. For the brief moment he appears, his desperate “Come on! Come on!” as he fights for a child’s life brings him into sudden, sharp, relief.

Yes, that does sound like a nice touch with the police officer.

I think another was the social worker appointed by the court. She never appears, so we can't be sure. It would have been nice to have her appear, to see if she does help to balance the adults who make things worse. But as she thinks she can get the verdict reversed, I'd put her in that category.

Take a look at the wording Shirley uses when she takes the truth-telling vow: "Oh, please, please, make her well! I promise never to lie again ... never! Oh please!" It sounds like she's making a bargain with God: He will make Trisha well in exchange for her never lying again. Hence her refusal to tell even the smallest of lies. Subconsciously, she thinks if she breaks it in the slightest, God won't make Trisha better. But there are a couple of occasions where a hint of lying does slip through. The first is when Evie steals the teacher's money in front of the class and directly asks Shirley, "What you staring at?" Shirley quickly says, "N-nothing!" Strictly speaking, that's not true, is it? Another comes after Evie ruins her new blazer and she has to wear her old outgrown one. She tries to reassure her mother that "it'll do". But is she really telling the truth there? I doubt it.

My favourite part of this story is the episode where Shirley runs away. I used to read it over and over and couldn't wait to see what happened next week.

[Tammyfan]

There’s a brilliant panel at the point where an overwrought Shirley flings herself into Jones’ arms, and Gabbott captures the nurse’s reaction perfectly (Gabbott’s command of facial expression is wonderful throughout the story).

Another way Gabbot really brings this story to life is how she depicts school bully Evie Moore. Everything Evie does is despicable and vicious, but where she makes her real impact is in how Gabbot draws her. Everything about Evie visually, from her punk hairdo and safety pin earrings (why the heck does the school allow it?) to her facial expressions (in her first close-up panels in class, it almost looks as if she's wearing makeup), and the way Gabbot's style pulls this off, makes her stamp on your memory years after you read the story. I have to crack up at the scene where Evie is dragged to the headmaster's office with one foot totally bare because the teacher still has the shoe where she hid the money. Yes, Evie is raging at Shirley for telling, and the girls are terrified at what she's going to do, but that bit is still funny. Evie must have been one of Gabbot's favourite baddies to draw.

[Tammyfan]

Out of interest and for a change of pace, if you had to pick the Diane Gabbot serials in Tammy most deserving of a reprint volume, which ones would you choose?

[Goof]

My favourite part of this story is the episode where Shirley runs away. I used to read it over and over and couldn't wait to see what happened next week.

Totally agree. From the moment Shirley heads for Cactus Cove, the story seems to pull all the strands together and accelerate to the climax where Trisha wakes up, and from there it winds down in a brilliantly paced finish. It’s one of the best-written endings to a serial that I’ve read. Also Gabbott’s art for the Cactus Cove sequence is really strong and original – I love the effect of the harsh torchlight on black water. She had a great flair for night scenes.

I think another was the social worker appointed by the court. She never appears, so we can't be sure. It would have been nice to have her appear, to see if she does help to balance the adults who make things worse. But as she thinks she can get the verdict reversed, I'd put her in that category.

I also like the doctor’s reaction after Nurse Jones has broken the rules to get Trisha revived, disposing of all Mrs Morris’s tantrums at a stroke - “Well, I’m sure Mrs Morris won’t kick up a fuss since it’s apparently worked” – with a wink to the nurses as he steers the outraged Ward Sister out of harm’s way.

Everything about Evie visually, from her punk hairdo and safety pin earrings (why the heck does the school allow it?)

….why the heck does the school allow her to get away with murder at all?

Out of interest and for a change of pace, if you had to pick the Diane Gabbot serials in Tammy most deserving of a reprint volume, which ones would you choose?

I think Circus of the Damned and Fairground of Fear are obvious candidates, especially as Rebellion seem to be particularly keen on horror tales. I have a very soft spot for Donna Ducks Out, and it would be nice to see her represented by a really good zany comedy, a genre which is under-represented in Rebellion reprints. But first and foremost for me it has to be Shirley. The story does wonders in reimagining a well-used formula, often derided as artificial, as a totally convincing emotional drama. As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of the best stories produced for any girls’ comic.