Cover image for The secret garden
Title:
The secret garden
Author:
Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924.
Edition:
[Large print edition].
Publication Information:
Los Angeles, CA : LRS, 1997.
Physical Description:
394 pages (large print) ; 25 cm
Summary:
Ten-year-old Mary come to live in a lonely house on the Yorkshire moors and discovers an invalid cousin and the mysteries of a locked garden.
Language:
English
ISBN:
9781581180008
Format :
Book

Available:*

Library
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Material Type
Home Location
Status
Clarence Library FICTION Juvenile Large Print Large Print
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Summary

Summary

This story about growing up is made more interesting by the mystery and adventure of the Secret Garden, and more fascinating by its setting in 19th century England. Yet surprisingly, this tale of independence and concern for others remains fresh today.


Author Notes

Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote for children and adults, publishing both plays and novels. She was born in Manchester, England, on November 24, 1849. Her father, who owned a furniture store, died when she was only four years old. Her mother struggled to keep the family business running while trying to raise five children. Finally, because of the failing Manchester economy, the family sold the store and immigrated to the United States. In 1865 they settled just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee.

Hoping to offset her family's continuing financial troubles, Burnett began to submit her stories to women's magazines. She was immediately successful. In the late 1860s her stories were published in nearly every popular American magazine. Burnett helped to support her family with income from the sale of her stories, even saving enough to finance a trip back to England, where she stayed for over a year. In 1879, Burnett published her first stories for children; two of her most popular are A Little Princess and The Secret Garden.

In contrast to an extremely successful career, Burnett's personal life held many challenges. Her son Lionel was diagnosed with tuberculosis at age 15, from which he never recovered. His death inspired several stories about dead or dying children.

Burnett lived her later years on Long Island, New York. She died in 1924.

(Bowker Author Biography)


Reviews 2

Booklist Review

Gr. 5-7, younger for reading aloud. A combination of full-color illustrations, gray-wash drawings, and small pen-and-ink chapter headings brings new life to a story that has been a favorite of several generations. Filled with detail and a decidedly Edwardian flavor, this handsomely designed offering about the girl who comes to live in a lonely house on the Yorkshire moors and discovers an invalid cousin and a mysterious garden is sure to entice children for years to come. BE. Orphans Fiction / Gardens Fiction / Physically handicapped Fiction / Yorkshire Fiction [CIP] 86-45534


School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-8-The perennial fascination with Frances Hodgeson Burnett's classic story has made it a vehicle for a variety of adaptations. This audio presentation by the Saint Charles Players is an unsuccessful attempt to make the story into a radio-style version. The best work is done by the narrator who weaves story text between dialogue that is sometimes flat and sometimes overacted. Sound effects are helpful and the musical interludes pleasant, but overall this offering lacks dramatic intensity. The tapes must be played on a stereo player or part of the story can't be heard. A better choice for listeners who want to listen to the entire story would be the unabridged reading by Flo Gibson for Recorded Books (1987).-Barbara S. Wysocki, Cora J. Belden Library, Rocky Hill, CT (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.


Excerpts

Excerpts

The Secret Garden My First Classics Chapter One There's No One Left When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father had held a position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible. So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it they always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books she would never have learned her letters at all. One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her Ayah. "Why did you come?" she said to the strange woman. "I will not let you stay. Send my Ayah to me." The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the Ayah could not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not possible for the Ayah to come to Missie Sahib. There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her Ayah did not come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower bed, and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth, all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she returned. "Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!" she said, because to call a native a pig is the worst insult of all. She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with someone. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib-Mary used to call her that oftener than anything else-was such a tall, slim, pretty person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things, and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and floating, and Mary said they were "full of lace." They looked fuller of lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all. They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy officer's face. "Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?" Mary heard her say. "Awfully," the young man answered in a trembling voice. "Awfully, Mrs. Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago." The Mem Sahib wrung her hands. "Oh, I know I ought!" she cried. "I only stayed to go to that silly dinner party. What a fool I was!" At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the servants' quarters that she clutched the young man's arm, and Mary stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder. "What is it? What is it?" Mrs. Lennox gasped. "Someone has died," answered the boy officer. "You did not say it had broken out among your servants." "I did not know!" the Mem Sahib cried. "Come with me! Come with me!" And she turned and ran into the house. After that appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most fatal form and people were dying like flies. The Ayah had been taken ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows. The Secret Garden My First Classics . Copyright © by Frances Burnett. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Secret Garden: A Young Reader's Edition of the Classic Story by Frances Hodgson Burnett All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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