Book-It 'o14! Book #60
The Fifty Books Challenge, year five! ( 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013) This was a secondhand find.
Title: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, illustrated by Tasha Tudor
Details: Copyright (text) 1911, (illustrations) 1962, (First Book and Charm edition) 1998, HarperCollins
Synopsis (By Way of Back Cover):
"When orphaned Mary Lennox, lonely and sad, comes to live at her uncle's great house on the Yorkshire moors, she finds it full of secrets. At night, she hears the sound of crying down one of the long corridors. Outside, she meets Dickson, a magical boy who can charm and talk to animals. Then, one day, with the help of a friendly robin, Mary discovers the most mysterious wonder of all-- a secret garden, walled and locked, which has been completely forgotten for years and years. Is everything in the garden dead, or can Mary bring it back to life?"
Why I Wanted to Read It: First, a bit of exposition and explanation.
In the five years since I started this challenge, I've imposed a few rules upon myself.
Absolutely no books I've read before, no matter how many years ago.
Absolutely no reviewing books I didn't completely finish.
Much further down the line is a rule that's not even a rule, it's more of a rule of thumb. Since I'm reviewing for content (and critiquing the material), I generally am going to stay away from books that a lot of people feel a certain way about. That's why I don't generally solicit suggestions for books (if I'm gonna rip it apart for content, I don't want it to be a book that means a lot to someone; not because I think they can't handle critical reviews, but because it just seems like a dick move when it's something someone is sharing with me that means something to them).
Last year, I ended up rereading (for the first time as an adult) the book A Little Princess and I was surprised at how charmed I was. I'd heard (as most people have) of Burnett's other classic, but I'd never actually read it, despite it playing a large part in my childhood (my mother and her family were Burnett fans and deemed a rural enclave by her childhood home "The Secret Garden" where I would also play and come to revere).
Why not finally read this book and review it? I actually wrestled with the idea more than I should, particularly when I had no similar qualms/trepidation about reviewing a book written by a friend of mine.
In similar spirit, I offer my review.
How I Liked It: I consume actually a great deal of "vintage" media, which if you know me even a little bit, you already know. I love Silent film, I love pop music from the '20s and '30s (and even '10s, really), I love a great deal of stuff that has unfortunately usually has accompanying "baggage" of its era. I'm also a big proponent of being a critical fan, and of it being okay to be a fan of problematic stuff, so long as you do it the right way.
This is a book written for children in 1911 and I'm an adult reading it over a century later. Themes of colonialism, classism, and white supremacy (before you accuse me of being a Social Justice Warrior™, please consider as one example the fact the main character responds with the greatest rage when the maid confesses that she thought Mary would be "black," coming from India, not expecting "instead o' respectable white people") run throughout the book and stronger than they did in A Little Princess. Reading this book to a kid (although I'm assuming the urge is lesser than with Burnett's other book which has quite the misplaced niche) or giving it to a kid to read would involve a great deal of historical placement without appeasement (sort of the same "It wasn't okay then and it's not okay now."). No, of course, kids can read this and not walk away with the same colonialist mindset. I'm sure many generations have. But without some sort of framing, such exchanges can classify the book as simply "old" and therefore unimportant. So what's worth saving in this book?
What's no doubt made this book a classic and kept generations coming back is the fact it's one of the most genuine and heartfelt loveletters to nature I'm fairly certain I've ever read, including my vast consumption of Transcendentalist literature and poetry, and more importantly my fourteen years of Paganism. The book doesn't offer solutions as simple as "kids need to get out and play" or even (although the trope is somewhat highly suggested) the "noble savage" in the lowerclass Dickon, the boy from the Moors who can talk to animals who acts as a sort of shepherd to the upperclass children to whom nature is so foreign.
And it's as much about genuine human interaction as it is about the power of nature. While characters find a salvation within their newfound appreciation/worship of the garden, it's important to note that they find the garden and the beauty within by opening themselves up and learning to communicate and even find kinship with others. The lessons are by no means limited to children nor to the upperclass. One of elements keeping the book from falling into tired trope is the fact another character (older and a servant) experiences a similar transformation.
The book has historical baggage, sure. But some classics stay classics for excellent reasons, and that remains the case here.
Title: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, illustrated by Tasha Tudor
Details: Copyright (text) 1911, (illustrations) 1962, (First Book and Charm edition) 1998, HarperCollins
Synopsis (By Way of Back Cover):
"When orphaned Mary Lennox, lonely and sad, comes to live at her uncle's great house on the Yorkshire moors, she finds it full of secrets. At night, she hears the sound of crying down one of the long corridors. Outside, she meets Dickson, a magical boy who can charm and talk to animals. Then, one day, with the help of a friendly robin, Mary discovers the most mysterious wonder of all-- a secret garden, walled and locked, which has been completely forgotten for years and years. Is everything in the garden dead, or can Mary bring it back to life?"
Why I Wanted to Read It: First, a bit of exposition and explanation.
In the five years since I started this challenge, I've imposed a few rules upon myself.
Absolutely no books I've read before, no matter how many years ago.
Absolutely no reviewing books I didn't completely finish.
Much further down the line is a rule that's not even a rule, it's more of a rule of thumb. Since I'm reviewing for content (and critiquing the material), I generally am going to stay away from books that a lot of people feel a certain way about. That's why I don't generally solicit suggestions for books (if I'm gonna rip it apart for content, I don't want it to be a book that means a lot to someone; not because I think they can't handle critical reviews, but because it just seems like a dick move when it's something someone is sharing with me that means something to them).
Last year, I ended up rereading (for the first time as an adult) the book A Little Princess and I was surprised at how charmed I was. I'd heard (as most people have) of Burnett's other classic, but I'd never actually read it, despite it playing a large part in my childhood (my mother and her family were Burnett fans and deemed a rural enclave by her childhood home "The Secret Garden" where I would also play and come to revere).
Why not finally read this book and review it? I actually wrestled with the idea more than I should, particularly when I had no similar qualms/trepidation about reviewing a book written by a friend of mine.
In similar spirit, I offer my review.
How I Liked It: I consume actually a great deal of "vintage" media, which if you know me even a little bit, you already know. I love Silent film, I love pop music from the '20s and '30s (and even '10s, really), I love a great deal of stuff that has unfortunately usually has accompanying "baggage" of its era. I'm also a big proponent of being a critical fan, and of it being okay to be a fan of problematic stuff, so long as you do it the right way.
This is a book written for children in 1911 and I'm an adult reading it over a century later. Themes of colonialism, classism, and white supremacy (before you accuse me of being a Social Justice Warrior™, please consider as one example the fact the main character responds with the greatest rage when the maid confesses that she thought Mary would be "black," coming from India, not expecting "instead o' respectable white people") run throughout the book and stronger than they did in A Little Princess. Reading this book to a kid (although I'm assuming the urge is lesser than with Burnett's other book which has quite the misplaced niche) or giving it to a kid to read would involve a great deal of historical placement without appeasement (sort of the same "It wasn't okay then and it's not okay now."). No, of course, kids can read this and not walk away with the same colonialist mindset. I'm sure many generations have. But without some sort of framing, such exchanges can classify the book as simply "old" and therefore unimportant. So what's worth saving in this book?
What's no doubt made this book a classic and kept generations coming back is the fact it's one of the most genuine and heartfelt loveletters to nature I'm fairly certain I've ever read, including my vast consumption of Transcendentalist literature and poetry, and more importantly my fourteen years of Paganism. The book doesn't offer solutions as simple as "kids need to get out and play" or even (although the trope is somewhat highly suggested) the "noble savage" in the lowerclass Dickon, the boy from the Moors who can talk to animals who acts as a sort of shepherd to the upperclass children to whom nature is so foreign.
And it's as much about genuine human interaction as it is about the power of nature. While characters find a salvation within their newfound appreciation/worship of the garden, it's important to note that they find the garden and the beauty within by opening themselves up and learning to communicate and even find kinship with others. The lessons are by no means limited to children nor to the upperclass. One of elements keeping the book from falling into tired trope is the fact another character (older and a servant) experiences a similar transformation.
The book has historical baggage, sure. But some classics stay classics for excellent reasons, and that remains the case here.