Leon Garfield dislikes being described as a writer for children. He regards this as a publisher's convenience—a slot into which his books can be easily put. What interests him is the novel as narrative, and since the modern novel for adults tends to be concerned with psychological states and sexual exploration rather than with the telling of an intricate and neatly dove-tailing story, Garfield's novels are regarded as being more suitable for children. Certainly they appeal very strongly to young readers and a very important element of this appeal is the strong story-line.

Each of his novels is built on a complicated but firm plot, following the adventures of the main character through a series of clues and discoveries until the complications are resolved and the mysteries revealed as the novel comes to a close. The plots are usually based on a search of some kind—in Jack Holborn and Devil-in-the-Fog for the truth about the hero's origin, in The Drummer Boy for what is real and what is false. Always there is the search for knowledge.

Another factor which gives the novels an appeal for young people is the type of hero that Garfield depicts. Garfield's heroes are on their own. They have to make their own way in the bewildering adult world, finding out for themselves what is reality and what is illusion, learning by trial and error whom to trust and who is merely making use of them. There is Smith, for instance, the twelve-year-old pick-pocket stealing a living in fog-swirled eighteenth-century London, who learns that mere survival is not enough and that compassion is more important than wounded pride or self-interest. Or Charlie Samson, the golden drummer boy, whose goodness is taken advantage of and who learns that the adult world of pride and privilege is not all that it seems. It is through heroes like these that children can explore the strange adult world into which they are moving and against whom they can weigh their own experience.

The style Garfield uses also appeals to children. His language is highly coloured, full of imagery and humour, shot through with irony and ambiguity (which last may not always be grasped by children). Sometimes the imagery is used decoratively …; often, it is used more organically as part of the meaning of the novel. In Smith, the dead eyes of the magistrate are a symbol of his inward blindness. In The Drummer Boy, the golden lad is in danger of having his innocence tarnished by the world.

Even in the most grim situation—for Garfield shuns little from murder to madness—humour keeps breaking through. (pp. 34-5)

The opening of Smith illustrates … the assurance with which Garfield establishes a style and a tone for his novels, a skill he may have learned from Jane Austen who has certainly influenced his use of irony…. (p. 35)

The other main influence on Garfield's writing seems to be Dickens, although he did not read Dickens until after he had written his first novel Jack Holborn. This can be seen partly in the characterisation of the minor figures with their one easily recognisable catch-phrase or trait (Meg in Smith with her 'Learning? Give you a farthing for it!' or Pobjoy in Jack Holborn with his thirst for gin). It can be seen partly in the gusto and skill of the narrative. The whirling end of Black Jack is like a speeded-up version of the crescendo of crisis upon crisis at the end of A Tale of Two Cities or Oliver Twist. It can be seen partly in the use of symbolism. The travelling actors of Devil-in-the-Fog and the fair people of Black Jack with their casual, free-and-easy emotional world bear the same significance as the circus people in Hard Times. It can be seen in the way in which, once he gets going, Garfield's prose takes on a lyrical lilt and rhythm reminiscent of Dickens in full flight…. It is … exuberant exaggeration and vitality in the use of words that Garfield shares with Dickens. He also shares a warmth of heart and feeling. Virtue is triumphant. Goodness is seen to be good, without in any way descending to Dickens' sentimental excesses. This is not to say that Garfield is a greater artist than Dickens—merely that he has a better sense of proportion.

Garfield's novels are set in the eighteenth century. He has said (in an interview in The Guardian, 9 June 1971): 'It's like science fiction in reverse: you take a moral problem out of context to observe it better; you have the reality of the past to latch on to.' Through the vividness of his writing, his choice of detail and the generosity of his characterisation, Garfield does bring a past age to life. Smith has the exuberance, the violence, the high spirits, and the squalor of The Beggar's Opera. But his novels are more than costume charades. Moral questions and their reverberations loom very large. The search for identity is made concrete by having his hero literally search to find out who his father is in Jack Holborn and Devil-in-the-Fog. Moral choice is a very important element in Smith. Learning to distinguish between outward beauty, respectability or rank and inward corruption, self-seeking, and wickedness is the basis of Black Jack and The Drummer Boy. (pp. 35-6)

And this is, perhaps, one of the most important aspects of Garfield's novels. They deal with the same kind of themes as adult literature, but in terms that children can understand. By identifying with the heroes, children can appreciate the moral choices that arise, and can see that the world is not entirely black and white but varying shades of grey. When they go on to read Shakespeare, Dickens, George Eliot or Jane Austen, they are prepared for similar complexities of feelings and responses to character and situation. If they do not go on to read these classics, they have had a valuable and easily approachable substitute. (p. 36)