I’m finding that the new Wednesday series of research squibs is being more creative work than I’m happy about currently, so I thought I’d jump the tracks to a different series that I’ve been contemplating for years.
Sometimes we like things that we know are problematic. Sometimes it takes us a while to realize many of the problematic aspects of things we like. And sometimes we aren’t sure how to engage with that aspect of things we like. For a number of years, I’ve been promising myself to expiate the problematic aspects of one of my favorite comfort-reads by dong a detailed examination and dissecting what it is about it that appeals to me, and what parts of it make me wince and why. So for the foreseeable future, my Wednesday blog is going to be a detailed, chapter-by-chapter critique and celebration of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel A Little Princess.
It’s a story with some really delightful themes: I love the way the entire world of the story centers around female characters, and the way the protagonist is shown to struggle to follow her better impulses, and the overall symbolic structure of how the protagonist earns her happy ending. And it’s a story with some seriously problematic shit: like orientalism and colonialism, and some peculiar gaps in its critique of class, and a rather nauseating equation of being fat with lower intelligence, and some plot holes you could drive a coach-and-four through.
And yet I come back to this story again and again. Back when I was in grad school and avoiding fiction that made me work too hard (because my academic reading sucked up all my reading energy), I’d do a Little Princess re-read any time I needed a pick-me-up. When I started having massive problems with insomnia and discovered that running audiobooks was the best mitigation I could find, the Librivox.org recording of A Little Princess read by Karen Savage went into heavy rotation (with its only flaw being that it doesn’t run quite long enough to cover the whole night). So rather than simply calling it my “guilty pleasure” (a term I hate), I decided to do penance by acknowledging the flaws while explaining why I keep coming back.
This first installment is going to be a bit of background, and then I’m going to begin working through the book chronologically (though I’ll be bouncing around when discussing themes and plot-holes). Spoilers will abound, but dammit the book was published over a hundred years ago. Statute of limitations and all that.
The Wikipedia entry on the novel gives some interesting background, including that it was an expansion of a previous, much less detailed novella, and may have been inspired by an unfinished fragment by Charlotte Brontë. Burnett was a prolific writer of both children’s and adult fiction, though she is best known now for the former. In addition to A Little Princess, the works people are most likely to have heard of include The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy, all of which have a continuing theme of children who have lost their parents (although in the case of LLF, the loss of his mother is temporary), are massively displaced from their original place of residence, and eventually are beneficiaries of wealthy and privileged men with some indirect family connection to them.
One suspects a certain amount of authorial wish-fulfillment, given that Burnett’s father died when she was very young, and her family moved from England to the USA in impoverished circumstances when she was a teenager (she began writing to help support her family). She never relied on a wealthy benefactor, however, and even though her husband became a physician early in their marriage, she was the primary breadwinner of the family, enabling them to enjoy international travel and rather lavish socializing.
The basic plot of A Little Princess involves the riches-to-rags-to-riches story of motherless Sara Crewe, who is sent from a life of colonial privilege in India to boarding school in London and, after establishing her place in the schoolgirl pecking order, loses everything when her father simultaneously loses his fortune and his life. Sara is demoted from “princess” to scullery maid at the school and struggles to maintain a positive approach to life until, as a reward for her inherent virtue, she is discovered by her late father’s business partner who restores her fortunes and whisks her away to a life of comfort and affection.
Next week, I’ll lay out the basics of why the story appeals to me and begin Chapter One.
Sometimes we like things that we know are problematic. Sometimes it takes us a while to realize many of the problematic aspects of things we like. And sometimes we aren’t sure how to engage with that aspect of things we like. For a number of years, I’ve been promising myself to expiate the problematic aspects of one of my favorite comfort-reads by dong a detailed examination and dissecting what it is about it that appeals to me, and what parts of it make me wince and why. So for the foreseeable future, my Wednesday blog is going to be a detailed, chapter-by-chapter critique and celebration of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel A Little Princess.
It’s a story with some really delightful themes: I love the way the entire world of the story centers around female characters, and the way the protagonist is shown to struggle to follow her better impulses, and the overall symbolic structure of how the protagonist earns her happy ending. And it’s a story with some seriously problematic shit: like orientalism and colonialism, and some peculiar gaps in its critique of class, and a rather nauseating equation of being fat with lower intelligence, and some plot holes you could drive a coach-and-four through.
And yet I come back to this story again and again. Back when I was in grad school and avoiding fiction that made me work too hard (because my academic reading sucked up all my reading energy), I’d do a Little Princess re-read any time I needed a pick-me-up. When I started having massive problems with insomnia and discovered that running audiobooks was the best mitigation I could find, the Librivox.org recording of A Little Princess read by Karen Savage went into heavy rotation (with its only flaw being that it doesn’t run quite long enough to cover the whole night). So rather than simply calling it my “guilty pleasure” (a term I hate), I decided to do penance by acknowledging the flaws while explaining why I keep coming back.
This first installment is going to be a bit of background, and then I’m going to begin working through the book chronologically (though I’ll be bouncing around when discussing themes and plot-holes). Spoilers will abound, but dammit the book was published over a hundred years ago. Statute of limitations and all that.
The Wikipedia entry on the novel gives some interesting background, including that it was an expansion of a previous, much less detailed novella, and may have been inspired by an unfinished fragment by Charlotte Brontë. Burnett was a prolific writer of both children’s and adult fiction, though she is best known now for the former. In addition to A Little Princess, the works people are most likely to have heard of include The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy, all of which have a continuing theme of children who have lost their parents (although in the case of LLF, the loss of his mother is temporary), are massively displaced from their original place of residence, and eventually are beneficiaries of wealthy and privileged men with some indirect family connection to them.
One suspects a certain amount of authorial wish-fulfillment, given that Burnett’s father died when she was very young, and her family moved from England to the USA in impoverished circumstances when she was a teenager (she began writing to help support her family). She never relied on a wealthy benefactor, however, and even though her husband became a physician early in their marriage, she was the primary breadwinner of the family, enabling them to enjoy international travel and rather lavish socializing.
The basic plot of A Little Princess involves the riches-to-rags-to-riches story of motherless Sara Crewe, who is sent from a life of colonial privilege in India to boarding school in London and, after establishing her place in the schoolgirl pecking order, loses everything when her father simultaneously loses his fortune and his life. Sara is demoted from “princess” to scullery maid at the school and struggles to maintain a positive approach to life until, as a reward for her inherent virtue, she is discovered by her late father’s business partner who restores her fortunes and whisks her away to a life of comfort and affection.
Next week, I’ll lay out the basics of why the story appeals to me and begin Chapter One.
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Date: 2016-02-17 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2016-02-18 01:05 am (UTC)(and while I like it, it really is problematic. Who wouldn't want a sugar daddy?)
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Date: 2016-02-18 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2016-02-17 09:54 pm (UTC)"her family moved from England to the USA in impoverished circumstances when she was a teenager (she began writing to help support her family)"
True, but incomplete. Her family moved from the industrialised county of Lancashire (specifically Manchester) as a direct result of the US Civil War. Lancashire's economy depended on weaving cotton, the raw material of which came from the American South, and its slave-worked plantations. Burnett's family were engaged in the cotton business. However on the outbreak of war Lancashire did not do what many people predicted it would and support the Confederacy, on whom its livelihood depended. Instead, it came out against slavery (we have the direct testimony of Abraham Lincoln, who described this as "An act of sublime Christian heroism, which has not been seen before in any age or clime"). Burnett's family life was destroyed (or, at best, severely disrupted) because her home county stood up in the crunch time for a principle of social justice. When you look at her characters like Sara Crewe or Loristan in the Lost Prince, it's worth noting that she knew at first hand what the cost of principle before person means - in some respects, you can say that what she's writing is "fixit" fic, to show that the sacrifice is worth it (and when she glorifies the Yankee spirit, as she does in Little Lord Fauntleroy and her adult novel, The Shuttle, that's part of her convincing herself that they backed the right side.)
Secondly, you say, "even though her husband became a physician early in their marriage, she was the primary breadwinner of the family, enabling them to enjoy international travel and rather lavish socializing." In fact, again the biography shows that Swan Burnett was an exploitative leech who took and took and spent and spent his wife's money (she funded him through med school) and they later divorced.
None of this excuses problematic elements in the work, but I think it certainly explains many issues which could be interpreted either way.
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Date: 2016-02-17 10:08 pm (UTC)I'd love for you to contribute to the discussion as I go along. It sounds like you've read a lot more of her catalog than I have. (I've been tracking down some of her other works that exist in audio.)
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Date: 2016-02-17 11:58 pm (UTC)It's swings and roundabouts, but swings go backwards and roundabouts come round.
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Date: 2016-02-18 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-18 10:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-18 05:18 pm (UTC)Colin's philosophies in The Secret Garden strike me as falling in the general category of "power of positive thinking", with vague echoes of neurolinguistic programming. Not saying there's a direct connection, but those were the associations it evoked for me. Of course, those modern versions have more than a bit of mysticism when looked at from the right angle.
The telepathy-like thing in SG felt to me like it could simply have been intended as literary device as opposed to authorial belief, but only to the extent that it didn't throw me out of the story.
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Date: 2016-02-17 10:28 pm (UTC)I never knew this, and I would love to read more. Do you have recommendations for where to learn about Frances Hodgson Burnett, slavery, and Manchester?
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Date: 2016-02-17 11:42 pm (UTC)It's also worth reading That Lass o' Lowries which is an early novel for adults by Burnett dealing with a "pit brow lassie" (one of the female surface coal workers of the 19th century whose practical costume involving trousers got itself fetishised by Victorian "gentlemen" who passed around clandestine photos) who protects her middle-class lover from danger (she secretly walks him home at night because she thinks he shouldn't be walking alone at night in that district), stands up to domestic violence, protects a stigmatised unmarried mother and goes down into a collapsing mine as part of a rescue mission (the other miners take the view that even though she's a women "nowt fears her" and therefore she is fully entitled to take her place as an equal with the men.
But it doesn't fit the narrative of Burnett as the unthinking child of privilege, so tends to be ellided from the discourse about her life and work.
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Date: 2016-02-18 02:45 am (UTC)And here, as you said, is the Doxology:
"There came at last a time when the war was ended, and there was a pathetic story of the first bales of cotton being met by a crowd of hunger- and trouble-worn factory operatives with sobs and tears, and cries of rapturous welcome - and of one man - perhaps a father who had sat by a fireless hearth, broken of spirit and helpless, while his young swarm cried for bread - a poor gaunt fellow who, lifting his hat, with tears running down his cheeks, raised his voice in the Doxology, one after another joining in, until the whole mass sang, in one great swelling chorus."
Thank you for introducing me to this history; I never knew, and it does complicate the narrative. I'll track down the other materials you mentioned too.
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Date: 2016-02-25 08:20 pm (UTC)Guide me, O thou great Redeemer,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand:
Bread of heaven, bread of heaven
Feed me till I want no more.
Feed me till I want no more.
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Date: 2016-02-17 11:01 pm (UTC)As a child, I could never bring myself to hunt out any of her more obscure books, for fear I'd see even more of the tropes I could already identify her leaning on, and learn she was the writer of a hundred roughly identical books (I couldn't have phrased it that way, of course). As an adult, it's been for fear of slamming into something very problematic indeed.
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Date: 2016-02-17 11:28 pm (UTC)And I should note that I do feel a streak of "But for her time..." in regard to her books. But that's exactly why I want to address the problems head-on and say, "Yes, I recognize the issues here, and recognize that this may kill the enjoyment for some, but here -- this -- is what I do like about the book."
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Date: 2016-02-17 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2016-02-18 01:36 am (UTC)I didn't know about the Pit Lassie book, but now I'll have to search it out. Martin Cruz Smith wrote a novel a few years ago, Rose, about, among other things, "pit girls" at the coal mines, and it was fascinating.
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Date: 2016-03-16 10:53 am (UTC)I must confess I am filled with trepidation at the idea of directly viewing the problems in my faves, but I'm also looking forward to the discussion.
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