It’s always a joy when a book comes into store that is a personal favourite. When I was a about eight years old, my darling sister read this entire book to me one summer holiday. She even assumed the Yorkshire accents to make it seem more entertaining. I still remember sitting in dad’s green armchair, one leg looped over the torn arm, rocking gently with my eyes closed, while she read chapter after chapter.
As I got older, I read and re-read this wonderful story of young people prevailing against odds and finding a place to belong, and the restorative power of nature. So when the book came into the shop last week, I revisited the story, and marvelled how Frances Hodgson Burnett had penned this in the very early 1900’s. Though there are now passages that are uncomfortable to read because they speak to racist and sexist beliefs of the time, and academics have dug deep into the problematic thematic elements of masculinty, femininity and the role of disability – the sweetness of the story still prevails, and it remains Top 100 as voted by Teachers. This 1956 edition is without a dust jacket, but it has some beautiful internal sketch illustrations.
