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Showing posts with label Charles Dickens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles Dickens. Show all posts

Monday, February 18, 2013

Burnett's Little Lord Fauntleroy

My most previous blog post was on A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I thought it would be interesting to go back into my reader response journal to see what I thought of another of her works, Little Lord Fauntleroy, from my pre-blog period.

I was surprised to see that in this response to Burnett's Little Lord Fauntleroy I cited Dickens, as I did many months later in my response to her A Little Princess. Dickens' child characters are not nearly as sentimental as Burnett's--he moves from the personal story into the sociological and the metaphysical. But both portray some pretty harrowing ordeals for young people and give them due credit for responding to those ordeals. The children are not paper cutouts.

Here is my response:

Little Cedric, a charming boy living in working class neighborhood in New York City in the approximate 1850s, is discovered to be the sole heir of an English Earl. He is plucked from his happy life and becomes equally happy in his new life. There are plots twists here and there, but the core of the book is in the relationship between Cedric and his grandfather.

The grandfather is hardened, self-serving, and disliked. Cedric, though, sees all through his own eyes, and asserts the essential goodness of grandpa. Grandpa’s transformation is both sweet and unsentimental.

I was surprised that this was such a delightful book. The excessive sweetness and virtue of the title character, Cedric, Lord Fauntleroy, was well balanced by wry wit and dry asides from the author. The boy Cedric’s golden character transforms the lives of all who come in contact with him. He is not trying to rescue, but his very self is enough to work wonders.

The book is funny and well paced—as fast as you always wish a Dickens book would be. The writing was fine. Clashes between working class folks (American and English) and the aristocracy were well drawn. There's a great joke about U.S. Independence Day not being celebrated in England.

As with the book Black Fox of Lorne (see earlier post), England is presented as a cultural paragon. Even the crusty shop owner from New York City goes to live in England without a backward glance. And Fauntleroy, while asserting his American-ness, submerges wholly in upper class English life and doesn’t look back.

I enjoyed this book. I don’t know if I’d recommend it generally to today’s children, but it holds up well as a genre book from its own time.

Burnett was born in England and split her adult life between England and the United States. She was a socialite, fashion-conscious, and wrote books to maintain her lifestyle through her own earnings. And, she was successful. Her books sold (and continue to sell) well and were filmed and dramatized for the stage even in her lifetime. She started a fashion rage based on Fauntleroy's clothing--lacy shirts and velvet suits and fancy shoes for boys--and on his hair--long, blond, and curled with bangs like a girl's.

I think this is very funny, that her boy was so girlish, since, as I mentioned in my Little Princess blog post, Fauntleroy played a role in his book that is usually reserved for girls.

The funniest example of the Fauntleroy look is Eddie Munster. I never realized until reading these books that Eddie was dressed like Cedric in a huge fashion inside joke!

Child-Hero
I wish that I had had more of a sense of heroism in my own childhood. I put it down to a lack of delusion--in a sense, the little princess and the little lord Fauntleroy survive because of the faith/delusion they have that they are part of something serious and important. And studies have always shown that non-depressed people are actually somewhat delusional--they tend to see things through rose-tinted lenses. How to make depressed people re-delusionalized, that's a question begging to be answered.

A young friend told me recently that he went off his anti-depressant medication because the pills made him feel like he wasn't worrying enough--that stuff was getting away from him. He couldn't take the delusion, wasn't ready for it. I thought that was interesting and self-aware. And goes to the issue of resilience. What made Sara and Cedric so resilient? Was it their early awareness of devoted parental love? Was it their submersion in heroic literature? Was it just a literary device to make the plot happen?

Anyway, I could have used some rosy spectacles in my younger days. I was so much older then...I'm younger than that now.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

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!

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier as
Elizabeth and Darcy. Now picture a zombie
face at the window!
     I loved Pride & Prejudice & Zombies and couldn't stand it. It failed in what it tried to do and succeeded in what it didn't try.
     As a piece of comic writing, this book failed. Grahame-Smith wasted an opportunity to really infuse Austen with zombies--the undead appeared infrequently, missing many opportunities to develop this book as a stand-alone work of comic horror. Really, zombies should have appeared randomly every few pages, but instead long passages of extracted Austen totally lacked brain-eating and bludgeonery. The zombies were more a novelty than anything else and did not contribute to the plot, which steadfastly followed Austen almost to the death (but not by zombies). It was a completely missed opportunity. I hope the impending film version of P&P&Z rectifies the failed courage of the book.
Warrior Elizabeth
     So, I was disappointed. I wanted a campy post-apocalyptic romp and got Austen more embroidered than anything else--and not embroidered with flowers, but with ghastly needlepoint body parts and gore. Lovely! Still, it was great fun and not at all serious--a great read for a summer weekend.
     I was heartened by the strength of Austen's story, even truncated as it was. I have read the original Pride & Prejudice maybe a dozen times and I know that story backward and forward. I have seen at least 10 filmed versions of the novel. And still, yes still, the story hooked me and held me. It didn't matter whether Elizabeth slayed with a glance or with a Katana sword or whether the carriage was  spattered with mud or with guts. The main point was whether Elizabeth and Darcy would find it within themselves to love each other, whether they could combat pride and prejudice in each other and themselves as efficiently as they slaughtered and beheaded the undead.
Zombies are everywhere, man
     In this book, Elizabeth and her sisters are trained zombie killers, warriors, really. The plague of zombies has overtaken England as the dead rise from centuries of cemeteries to menace both town and country. (London has been sectioned off into walled quadrants to better fight the unmentionables). These plot aspects are draped around Austen's plot in utterly silly ways. And hey, silly is OK. I liked it. If it brings readers even one step closer to appreciating Austen or voluntarily (Jake Shapiro) reading her books, I'm even more tickled.


SIDEBAR: Me and Austen
Books: My Life
     I knew I was supposed to like Austen, like I was supposed to like Dickens and James Joyce and Fielding, and so on. To be a proper English major, I must like them, to outstrip my high school friends in literariness, I must read them. But I just couldn't get Austen. It was so damned wordy! So polite! These books were politely written even when describing hideous social faux pas, wrongs, and sillinesses. I cleaned house for a professor while I was in college and one day she gave me a set of seven Austen novels and I took them gladly, if only for their symbolism.
     In the summer of 1980 (oh, those were halcyon days--NOT!) I went to England. And when I got home, I got Austen. I loved it. I dusted off the seven Austen novels and devoured them as eagerly as any zombie goes for brains; I redeemed those books from mere symbolism and they took on an amazing life in my life. And those books were no cauliflower (which zombies mistake for brains)! They were the real thing. Suddenly, the gorgeousness of Austen's writing shone through; her grammar, her perfect word choices.
Holden Caulfield (not cauliflower),
one artist's vision
    I think now that certain brain development (brains again!) and education needs to happen before a reader can appreciate certain literature. I see all the time that students are assigned literature to read that they cannot under any circumstances understand or appreciate. And you can see the fire light when a reader gets the right thing at the right time--like me reading Catcher in the Rye in 11th grade. As I consumed the book it also consumed me. I was irrevocably altered.
     One of the delights of the Eager Readers list I am working on reading is that I have revisited books that I read before I was ready. Dickens. I would've missed him but for this reading project. He's the best gift I've gotten. Rereading all of Austen was also an amazing pleasure. Neither of these authors ever intended for their audiences to be schoolchildren. These are adult works with amazing brilliance and scope. Coming to them as a mature reader and writer I again consume and I am again consumed. Wonderful! Very zombie of me.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens


Alistair Sim
I have posted photos of various actors playing Scrooge on my blog at www.whatsjoydickersonbeenreading.blogspot.com. Click on the post for A Christmas Carol. Which one is your favorite?
The children's reading list I've been working on for two years now is loaded with Dickens--Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, Bleak House--and I spent several months immersed in his words. I wasn't just pleasantly surprised by these books--I was amazed and delighted. Dickens' writing was much richer than I expected and his themes were much more human. The theme that most struck me is Dickens' faith in the power of love to effect and ennoble change in people.
Patrick Stewart
First up on the Dickens list was the extended short story A Christmas Carol. I always think this story will bore me and I always end up enjoying it. And after reading so much by this author, I realized that the main reason for my enjoyment was that Dickens really knew how to tell a story with style and substance and unforgettable imagery. I was pleased with the book's pacing—just when I was getting restless, pow, something different would happen.

George C. Scott
And, Scrooge’s transformation was quite touching and pitiable—not nearly as dramatic as many movies portray it. The ghosts who haunt him on that fateful Christmas Eve drag Scrooge along on his own hero quest--even though he doesn't want to go. At each stop--past, present, and future--Scrooge's heart is pried open. At first, it's just a crack. By the end, Scrooge is flooded with love--it bubbles out of him--his tears flow and his laughter rings.

Mr. Magoo
As with the other Dickens works I read, A Christmas Carol gave me the sensation that I had traveled. London was beautifully drawn--and gruesomely. I was especially riveted by the thick, choking fog that surrounds Scrooge’s street on Christmas Eve.Probably the worst image is the two children, Want and Ignorance. They are dirty and unclothed and wild-eyed. They are insatiable and inconsolable. They are children unloved and they haunt me. Those brutal children are who I work for, who I fight for. Scrooge, finally, found his compassion, his ability to feel with, and he ennobled my own compassion. And this is exactly the mission Dickens set for himself--to shine a light on the worst and the least and awaken the need to love them. I wish I could sprinkle the spirit of Scrooge’s Christmas compassion on all of us, all of us, every one.

Jim Carrey
This is still a story for the ages--but not particularly one for children. You can read it in just a few hours. I recommend it as a wonderful activity for your holidays. 
And, by the way, my favorite Scrooge is George C. Scott.