4.06 AVERAGE


This book is an easy 4.5 (yet another fuck you to good reads, let me do half stars). The story is sooo whimsical and interesting. The characters are lovable. The story develops in a natural way to keep a childlike air throughout the book while having enough content to fill a whole novel. Great message. I had this book in my basement all the while growing up, I sooo wish I read this around 10-11 years old, but better late than never.
adventurous funny inspiring lighthearted fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
medium-paced
adventurous hopeful inspiring medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
adventurous emotional hopeful inspiring lighthearted slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
adventurous emotional hopeful inspiring medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
adventurous mysterious fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Yes
Diverse cast of characters: Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

I remember liking this book as a kid, and I enjoyed much of it as an adult, too – but this is a book that is not aging well.
- Burnett’s portrayal of India and Indians is Not Good. 80% derogatory, 20% fetishized, 100% highly unfortunate.
- Do we count Colin as disability representation? Yes, there’s a wheelchair, but I’m landing on “no” – more in a moment.
- Helloooooo, British class system and ten-year-old tyrants.
 
On the surface, the appeal is the discovery of a secret place all one’s own, shared only with carefully chosen confidants. There’s also an element of a large, mostly empty mansion to explore, and the excitement of a surprise cousin. And of course the gardener’s joy of tending plants and seeing them flourish.
 
If those elements appeal to you, they can carry you over a host of problems and oddities. We’re also given two of the least likable child protagonists I can think of, and yet they win us over – because they’ve never been loved, it’s easy to feel sorry for them, and cheer on their progress. We see both Mary and Colin encounter new ideas and adjust their thinking every step of the way because their strange backgrounds have left them basically unsocialized. They are themselves forgotten gardens.
 
I think another appeal of this book is that it gives us a girl who is independent and seems largely content on her own. Add in her awkwardness in knowing how to deal with other people, and it feels like pretty good introvert representation, even though I don’t think that’s what Burnett set out to do.
 
Speaking of representation, let’s tackle Colin. As I read his situation, he’s been a sickly kid – the kind of person who gets every bug that comes his way – plus, the adults around him have always assumed that he would develop the same kind of spine condition that his father has. (The text uses the word “hunchback” – I think we’d call it scoliosis today.) But we’re given no reason to doubt Mary’s assessment that there’s nothing actually wrong with him beyond underdeveloped muscles. I view his “miracle cure” as not a cure at all, but a recognition that he never actually had a chronic condition in the first place. In order to get there, you need a special mix of neglect, misinformation, and over-protectiveness in the adults around him, but the dynamics in this house are so weird, I can almost get there. Then I picture how active my daughter was as a toddler, even when she was sick, and I think we may need to assume Colin had some other medical stuff going on at a young age, even though this is the era of “rest cures.”
 
But the point is, I don’t think this is a plotline that is going to help a wheelchair-using kid feel seen.
 
Even with his limited view of the world, Colin has a firm grasp on the idea of class privilege, and he wields it like a club. Even as his wellness improves at the end of the book, he remains something of a tyrant, leading the others in exercises and lecturing on magic. (I can’t help imagining that someday he’ll wind up at a school where he’ll get the wind knocked out of his sails a bit by other young rich boys.) Mary stands up to him sometimes, and especially on one notable occasion, but as the book goes on, she seems to let him lead much of the time.
 
For that matter, Mary effectively steps back in the last third of the book as Colin becomes the main character – once she gets him into the garden, the baton is passed and she barely makes an impact.
 
And maybe that’s why the book’s title focuses on the garden and not “Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary” as an early draft was apparently called. The garden is the space of transformation – she is the catalyst, and a beneficiary, but for healing to come full circle, the Craven family must be made whole. Father and son must reunite, and because this is a manor house, the son must grow into someone who can one day inherit this estate and care for the people who live on it.
 
And representing the healthiness of nature and the power of maternal love, we have Dickon and Susan Sowerby to provide crucial elements of Colin and Mary’s transformations, aiding them every step of the way. Martha starts it by chattering to Mary about her family. Dickon is practically a Disney princess with all the animals that flock about and seem to tell him things. And their mother becomes something of a fairy godmother – giving Mary a jump rope, sending the children food, and putting in a good word with Mrs. Medlock or even Mr. Craven himself on occasion.
 
So in a nutshell, this is a book where the love and common sense of poor English country folks triumphs over anything the children get through money, privilege or education. But it’s not for the benefit of the poor folks – the beneficiaries are two sad little rich kids.
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Such a beautiful, magical book about the transformative power of nature! It captures the joy in watching things and people grow. It makes me thankful and excited for the small but tremendously important moments in my life when I see "little pale green points" poking out in unexpected places.

This is another book I should have read as a child but at the same time, I am happy to discover it now!

(I did see Agnieszka Holland's beautiful screen adaption of The Secret Garden last year so I had a feeling I would love to book!)