1.5/5
When I came across the name of 'Frances Hodgson Burnett' attached to an unfamiliar title and unchildlike cover, it was akin to taking an unexpected trip back in time. I can still remember coming across the much battered covers of both 'The Secret Garden' and 'A Little Princess' while picking and choosing what contents of my library would travel with me, and I represent most of the author's readers in saying that, outside of 'Little Lord Fauntleroy', I had no familiarity with the real extent of her bibliography. Having had a reasonable amount of success in reading women who have either been restricted to the realm of children's literature, the single work, or the academic sphere at the expense of public representation, the fact that this work came when it did, bearing a more than useful publication date, seemed minorly providential. Should it not prove such, at least it was short. In hindsight, I'm glad that I hammered out that particular reservation for myself, for this work, published in 1877, was Burnett's first, and in character it seems half Gaskell ('Mary Barton' in 1848), half Twain ('Tom Sawyer' in 1876), and all of it a moralizing tract combined with apologism for the English class system. I give some credit for the effort made with the Lancanshire vernacular, but the whole plot was little more than the soft-hearted seduction of one of the chosen members of the lower class by the members of the higher, complete with much benediction paid to the rightful few and much groveling on the part of the impoverished many. In essence, there was not much difference between the the triumphant major plot and one of the tragic minor ones, save how each of the afflicted characters receive their womanly just deserts at the hands of larger society. Not something Burnett intended, I'm sure, but it would make for a good paper or two.
This book was published a good three decades before what would prove to be Burnett's most famous work, which in turn was serialized a decade before the author's death. It's been so long since I've read that bucolic fairy tale that I remember one of its film adaptations better than I do any of the text, so I can't make any conclusive analysis regarding the differences in quality between the two works. In addition, seeing as how one work is intended for adults and one is for children, one could say that there can't be as strong a comparison made. However, I do have to wonder whether the intervening decades toned down Burnett's moralizing a tad, as well as gave her a defter hand when it came to crafting characters who were more complicated than checker pieces set out against each other, the white always succeeding in converting the black. For much as I have been disappointed with my most recent appraisals of Gaskell's work in both the forms of literature and film adaptation, that author consistently goes father than Burnett does in her delineations, discussions, and even diatribes, and while the result may not go over so well, it at least gives one something to sink one's teeth into. This piece was just upper class good from a range of ignorantly benign to virtual saint, lower class poor from a range of uneducated well meaning to pure villainy, and the one seeming paragon of an intermediary between the two whom the tale cannot stop from rhapsodizing on and on about but, in all reality, gives up on her class of people so quickly for the sake of a 'proper Christian woman's place' that it's a good thing the narrative ends when it does, else the subsequent tale of this character's upward mobility would be borderline intolerable. Even the most interesting character, an incorrigible curmudgeon, turns corrigible in a seeming blink of an eye when a benefactress beats back the boogeyman of bankruptcy. This was all part of a pattern, though, as it seems that, judging from the rest of the cast of characters, if a working class character didn't have sufficient change of heart, it was the fate graveyard for them, and I imagine even Burnett recognized she had put too much in this almost three dimensional character to off him as summarily as she did others of more of a one note existence.
Burnett has many other books intended for adults to her name, although many of them are like this one in terms of 'The Secret Garden' having anywhere between 5000 to almost 10000 as many ratings as they do on this website. A couple of them have even been published by that general publisher of somewhat older works by women, Persephone Books, although my repeated encounters with that imprint have given off the sense that that particular line thought the Virago Modern Classics to be too 'diverse' in its reach, and the repeated undertones of racism mentioned in reviews of more than one work, including one of Burnett's, makes me wonder. In any case, much as I would have preferred that this work have revealed itself to be an underread delight, it's not as if Burnett really needs that manner of support. All in all, this book served the purposes that I honestly needed it for, and while I wouldn't mind rereading some of Burnett's works for children and perhaps exploring some of her others for adults, that won't be happening for some time. There's still a healthy amount of 19th c. woman writers that I have not yet encountered, and I'm still looking for a work published in the 1860s to slot into this year's challenge reads that, ideally, will have been written by one of them. True, there's a chance that that effort will turn out as poorly as did this one, but from what I've experienced thus far, doing such is always better than going with the ultrahype of the modern day, always.