A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The ultimate Little Princess,
Shirley Temple (colorized photo)

I am happy to announce that I loved A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I'm happy because my expectations were low. From other Burnett works (namely, Little Lord Fauntleroy) I worried that the book was another slice of overly sweet and over-decorated stale cake, if you can imagine that. The counterpart of the boy-grows-up book is the girl-saves-everyone book, such as another Burnett work, The Secret Garden. Little Lord Fauntleroy is an oddity because in it the boy saves everyone emotionally--it's almost always a girl.

[Please note that my reviews of The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy will comprise my next blog entry.]

But, A Little Princess turned out to be much more sophisticated than either of the other two books. It really was about a girl's character development; how a person faces adversity is the key issue addressed. Our heroine, Sara, has been somewhat spoiled and pampered, treated truly like a princess. And her idea of being a princess involves being kind and likable, taking care to spread happiness, being courteous, and helping others, especially "the populace," as she calls her poorer subjects. It's the ultimate in noblesse oblige, with an emphasis on noble.

Sara's one remaining treasure from
her better days was a doll given to
her by her father.

So, where does this leave Sara when her fortunes take a downward turn? How does a princess act when she's on the bottom instead of the top? Sara decides that when the chips are down is when a princess really steps up. It's her behavior in times of trouble that truly determines whether a girl is a princess. Thus, Sara does not allow her behavior to change even when her circumstances do.

Sara is a delight to be around (ok, a bit unrealistic) and she does help many people, but this book is about how she is helped, rescued really, from poverty and servitude. She learns much from her experiences--mainly about how "the populace" really lives. In a particularly awful sequence, we see that Sara is starving to death--she does not have adequate food. (I clarify because "starving to death" is such a cliche.) I was desperate for her situation to be resolved.

And I cried, yes, hard-hearted reader that I am. (But I'm a soft-hearted person.) I was totally engaged by Sara and by what was happening to her. I couldn't put the book down until I saw that she was going to be all right, even though I already knew the ending from seeing several movie versions of this story.

Here's Frances herself, a fashion
conscious woman who started
a boys' fashion rage from Little
Lord Fauntleroy's clothing.

There are also some truly magical plot points, especially when Sara's cold and barren attic room is mysteriously transformed. It feels almost like death, like she has died and this is what heaven is like. There are also times when she looks through people's windows and sees normal happiness, people who don't have to fight to keep their chins up. Great poignancy. The rooftop scenes are also wonderful--another world.

Sara is an orphan, as are so many child-heroes in children's literature. It seems to take the child out of context, give him or her more interesting problems to solve. Think of Anne Shirley of Green Gables fame. The heroine of The Secret Garden is also an orphan, I believe, or at least out of contact with a parental unit. The children in the Chronicles of Narnia are off on their own, too. The other message here is that parents tend to keep magic from happening! Those who dare much risk much!

The animal companion role that often features in these developmental novels is in this case a rat named Melchisidec. Sara makes friends with him and his "family" in the attic. A true princess can always spare a few crumbs for a rat.

This book most reminded me of Dickens' David Copperfield, of all books. David, too, undergoes many swift changes of fortune, from cherishment to disparagement (nice rhyme!). He, too, has to rub elbows with and comes to respect the underclasses of his society (the Micawbers!). And somehow, his inner prince wins out and attains a good life. If you waved a sex-change wand over David Copperfield and then added pink frosting, you would have A Little Princess.

High recommend for this book.

Was I Ever a Princess?

The first man I really WANTED--but
I wanted to sing, too.

No, I didn't usually go with the royalty fantasies. I was a modern girl, a mid-century modern girl growing up in the 1960s and 1970s. My vision of royalty was to be a rock singer, or, better yet a rock singer and also the girlfriend of a rock singer. Or I would be an actor. Somehow, though, I would be popular and known around the world. I would struggle for my privacy. I would have secret sufferings that no one knew about but would turn a brave face to the world. Men would love me but I might have to leave them behind for my art.

An image of my hippi
rock singer self--it's a
future I thought might be
waiting for me, alas.

In my family, we always joked that my oldest sister would be the woman ultimately chosen by Prince Charles as his wife (yes, he was considered to be a hot bachelor, if chinless). And, yes, we were only half joking. My sister was certainly worthy of royalty, even if Prince Charles wasn't. And when I think about how Charles's marriage to Diana finally turned out, I thank the stars for my sister's narrow escape.

Musicians and actors were my royalty, which is fitting for my time and place. And, although I was about 10 years too young, I wanted to be a hippi and I believed in hippi-ness. I bought the package--so much so that I still work for peace and justice in my own way and expose the odd bit of bullshit here and there.

This was my vision of Daniel Boone--
also pop-culture based

One of my poems talks about being Daniel Boone and whether or not I would have dared what he dared, and the poem concludes that "I'm still a Daniel Boone--of a kind." I like that. And maybe it's just an egotistical illusion, but I at least hope Daniel Booneism is at the core of my identity. Keep your fingers crossed!