(More like 3.5 stars, really.)
The Borrible Trilogy is one of the more unusual young-adult fantasy series out there. For one thing, it is undisguisedly and proudly left-wing, far more blatantly so than, to make the obvious comparison, the Narnia books are Christian. It's possible for a child to read the Narnia books without realizing that they are in some way all about Jesus, and in some of them -- "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" springs to mind -- it's not even clear to the average non-Christian just what lesson about Christianity you're supposed to absorb. By contrast, the Borrible books wear their politics on their metaphorical sleeves: the enemy is not just supposed to represent the upper classes and the police, for the most part it is the upper classes and the police. On the one hand, this can lend itself to a certain ideological rigidity. On the other hand, Michael de Larrabeiti is more honest, in a way, than C.S. Lewis, which has its own advantages. The last time I read "The Horse and His Boy", my favorite Narnia book as a child, I was deeply disappointed. Aslan turns out to be the motivating force behind everything, the lesson is to trust in Jesus, and the whole reading experience is contaminated by the knowledge that Lewis was proselytizing to my 9-year-old self without letting him know. No reader of the Borrible books will ever have this problem: de Larrabeiti is entirely upfront about all his biases.
Though de Larrabeiti is undoubtedly a leftist, he is a rather idiosyncratic one, and anyone reading these books in the hope of discovering a stirring tale of the victory of the proletariat in the class struggle will be disappointed. The Borribles themselves are essentially Peter Pan's Lost Boys (and Girls), only now they live in working-class neighborhoods of London (and, presumably other cities, though we only ever meet one non-Londoner Borrible) and survive by squatting in abandoned buildings and stealing. de Larrabeiti's heroes are not proletarians who want the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of their labors without capitalist exploitation but children who have no desire to ever enter the world of work. The worst fate that can befall a Borrible is to be captured by the police and have his or her pointed ears clipped, thus turning him or her into a normal child, doomed to grow up and live a normal life with a normal job. The Borrible credo involves mutual aid and staying away from both leaders and money: in this way, it hews closer to anarchism than anything else. Borribles are of both genders and all races and cultures: indeed, in the last book de Larrabeiti, perhaps worried that to this point most of the Borribles we met have been both white and male, introduces entire tribes of black and female Borribles. And their enemies are not so much capitalists as the forces of law and order, though there is never any question but that these forces are directed by the upper classes.
Except in the first book, that is, when the main enemy are the Rumbles of Rumbledom. I assume the similarity to Wimbledon is deliberate, but lack enough geographic knowledge of London to know for sure, a problem that will likely haunt all non-British readers of this book, and quite possibly all readers who were unfamiliar with London in the '70s: gentrification being what it is, who knows if Battersea or Brixton or any of the other areas the heroes pass through still bear any resemblance to the way they were when de Larrabeiti wrote about them. At any rate, the Rumbles are large rat-like creatures (I immediately pictured the rat-monsters of the Bone comics, only much less scary), about the height of the Borribles, who are caricatures of the upper classes: they speak in a highly affected accent, have names like Bingo, and live amidst all the trappings of luxury. Unfortunately, from a literary point of view they just don't really work. The Borribles can blend in with ordinary human society, but Rumbles quite obviously can't, and hence make a rather mediocre enemy. Also, as fighters (and there is a lot of fighting) they take the term "cannon fodder" to new levels: vast numbers of Rumbles are killed by a mere 11 Borribles (albeit an elite, picked force, known in this and the next two books as the Adventurers) who lose only one of their number, and he falls not to the enemy but in the collapse of the Rumble headquarters, which the Borribles have just blown up. In effect, the whole Rumble adventure serves merely to provide a motivation for the subsequent books, by providing them with a box of money (a symbol of oppression) and a horse named Sam (a symbol of freedom).
The former immediately moves to center stage, as upon their return our heroes are betrayed by the Wendles, a militaristic and hierarchical tribe of Borribles that live in the sewers, in order to steal the treasure: though the treasure is kept out of their hands, it comes at a cost, and the book ends with four of the original ten Borribles missing and presumed dead, fallen to the Wendles. This last part of the first book is superior to the earlier parts, which may be why the subsequent books drop the Rumbles entirely. Though their role as villains is partly taken by the Wendles, or at least their leader Flinthead, they are mainly replaced by the police, and in particular the Special Borrible Group, a police unit devoted to hunting down Borribles (and apparently a caricature of the Special Patrol Group, a reference likely to be wasted on readers who are either non-English or under the age of 40). The police are far more real and hence more effective as a menace than the Rumbles, and they also turn the Borribles into underdogs: armed only with catapults, they have no hope of fighting against much larger policemen with riot shields (but not guns, because this is England). Additionally, the police are far more likely to enlist the reader's sympathies with the Borribles, not just because they are both more real and more serious, but also due to Inspector Sussworth, head of the SBG, a brilliantly-drawn mid-level fascist whose speeches about law and order are enough to chill anybody's blood. And in order to isolate the police and the upper classes (Sussworth is shown receiving instructions from the DAC -- some sort of upper-level police official and quite clearly a toff -- a couple of times) as the enemy, rather than adults in general, the Borribles are actually helped by a couple of adult humans. But though the SBG now represent the main danger, the centerpiece of the second book is the struggle between Flinthead and Spiff, the quasi-leader of the Borribles of Battersea, for both money (the chest of treasure) and power (the leadership of the Wendles). If the moral -- money and power are bad -- is a bit obvious, the action is considerably superior to the first book.
Once the point has been made, the Wendles are dropped, and the entire focus moves to the main event. Just as it was in the first book, this is a quest, but it is now considerably humbler and so more believable, being merely to achieve freedom for Sam the horse by rescuing him from the police, who are using him as bait to trap the Borribles, and bringing him to a place where he will be taken care of and not have to work. This task is more or less an atonement for the actions of the first book: organizing to attack someone, even an old enemy like the Rumbles, and stealing money are not very Borrible things to do, and Sam's rescue is the price the Adventurers must pay to become fully Borrible again. The third book sees the Adventurers try to smuggle themselves and a horse from Battersea to Neasden, which apparently involves crossing much of London, in the teeth of SBG resistance. Though the second book is in some ways better, the third book is the culmination of de Larrabeiti's political vision. On the one hand, he adds to the female and Bangladeshi Borribles we have already met a whole tribe of black Borribles and another of girl punks. Finally, we discover that an adult who spends enough time around Borribles can become a Borrible himself. With all factions of the lower classes now represented, the stage is set for a Borrible revolution, but de Larrabeiti is canny enough not to go there himself: the story ends with freedom achieved for Sam and the SBG defanged for the moment, though at considerable cost, but nothing more than that. Perhaps the oddest part of this fantasy epic is its refusal to embrace a Tolkien-esque epic fantasy ending.
Despite this difference, and the sharp differences in Tolkien's and de Larrabeiti's worldviews, "The Lord of the Rings" is easily the most prominent influence on the Borrible trilogy. The most obvious way in which this influence is expressed is the little songs that characters are constantly singing throughout the book (perhaps this is more reminiscent of "The Hobbit", actually). But it's not just the songs: de Larrabeiti's descriptions of muck and desolation (the Borribles pass through lots of both) remind the reader of Tolkien's descriptions of similar landscapes that Frodo and Sam travel through along their journey. de Larrabeiti is just as uninterested in sex as Tolkien is: though there are far more female characters in the Borrible trilogy than in TLOTR, they are all immortal (as far as anybody knows) children and hence poor candidates for romance. Some of the plot structures display definite parallels: for instance, the way that the second book of both trilogies sees our heroes trapped between the main enemy (SBG/Sauron) and a secondary enemy who should be on their side but is setting himself up in imitation of the main enemy (Flinthead/Saruman). And in the second and third books, as the Adventurers travel from one island of safety to the next, braving unimaginable dangers in between, dangers that it seems impossible they will escape, the rhythm and even the language of the Borrible Trilogy starts to resemble TLOTR more and more. It's only at the end that things diverge, for de Larrabeiti is writing a very different kind of epic from Tolkien. Tolkien wants to leave the reader nostalgic for a better way of life that once existed, while de Larrabeiti is more interested in making you hopeful for a better way of life that is still to come. If he doesn't entirely succeed with these rather strange books, it can't be said that he entirely fails either.