The Garden of Life
Young people enjoy a concert at Switzerland festival, photo from the guardian.com:
Frances Hodgson Burnett was born in Manchester, England in 1849. Her dad died when she was four, and in 1865 her family emigrated to Tennessee. She began writing at 19, stories published in magazines. She married a doctor and lived in Paris for two years, mom of two sons. The family resettled in DC, where Burnett began to write novels. Little Lord Fauntleroy, published in 1886, drew attention. Almost 20 years later, following eleven other books, A Little Princess was published in 1905. After four more books came her most enduring novel, The Secret Garden, in 1911. I just finished a paperback version. It’s the story of a neglected ten-year-old British girl living in India, orphaned by a cholera epidemic. She is sent to live with an uncle in Yorkshire, where she evolves, without help from her elder, from an ugly, thin sourpuss to a child who appreciates the magic of life, exemplified most in a nearby moor and the eponymous sanctuary she finds. She is helped by a poor boy, one of 14 siblings, who has a way with animals. In turn, they bring the son of the master of the house to life. His mom died at his birth and his father has yet to get over it ten years later. He is considered an invalid who will not live to adulthood, and he has developed into a reclusive tyrant. It is a heartwarming, positive depiction of life’s potential. It is rare to find a fresh metaphor these days. I loved this one: “There were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert.” Although I found the writing unpolished overall, I was swept up in the story, rooting for the two neglected kids to triumph. The novel is standing the test of time. There are four film versions and one TV series, and it has been adapted to theater. There are more than 30 works listed on Burnett’s Wiki profile. She returned to England for a while. A second marriage to an actor ten years her junior was a disaster. She battled depression and spent time in a sanitarium. She passed away at 74 in 1924, leaving an impressive and likely lasting legacy. Photo from Google Images:
Do those who condemn the Jason Aldean song and video also condemn the extremes of rap?
Your NYC tax dollars at work, headline from foxnews.com: “Dem-run city agrees to pay millions to BLM protesters over mass arrests during 2020 riots.” Will DC repay the arrested January 6th rioters? Yeah, and monkeys might fly atta my butt.
Double barrel action in Mizzou, from FN: “Burglary suspect picks wrong house as homeowners, both armed, swiftly shoot him.” He survived, hit in each thigh.
Yesterday I considered making the long walk to the McDonald’s closest to my Brooklyn home. I’m glad I didn’t. Headline from nypost.com: “Connecticut McDonald’s branch slammed for charging $18 for a Big Mac meal.”
How will this be spun? Headline from newsmax.com: “IRS Whistleblower X Is Joe Ziegler, a Gay Democrat.” My guess is it will be pooh-poohed then ignored by the mainstream media, which will hope it will simply go away.
A late flurry boosted the floating book on another humid day. My thanks to Dina, who did a swap of Russian books, and to Alice who donated three paperbacks; and to the lady and gentleman who each bought a book in Russian; and to the man who took home Suddenly (1954), starring Frank Sinatra, on DVD; and to the garage mechanic who chose a three-for-one deal on medical pamphlets, a Miguel Brown LP on vinyl and four by Barry Manilow.
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