'A Little Princess' by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Sara Crewe, an exceptionally intelligent and imaginative student at Miss Minchin's Select Seminary for Young Ladies, is devastated when her adored, indulgent father dies. Now penniless and banished to a room in the attic, Sara is demeaned, abused, and forced to work as a servant. How this resourceful girl's fortunes change again is at the center of A Little Princess, one of the best-loved stories in all of children's literature.


MY THOUGHTS:

This is a charming riches to rags to riches tale, and a clarion call to kindness. The genre is kids' feel-good story that verges into horror for me. I'll explain why below.

The little heroine, Sara Crewe, is not a real princess but the daughter of a doting young dad whose chief love language seems to be gifts, which he showers on her. He enrolls her as a pupil at Miss Minchin's Seminary for girls, and ensures she has her own lavish sitting room, extensive wardrobe and wonderful dolls. Down the track, when he dies overseas, having lost all his money on a bad investment, Sara is demoted in a flash from most pampered pupil to general drudge. She really has to start relying on her endearing mental coping tools, such as pretending she's a real princess, to get through each exhausting day. 

At first I found the story hard to swallow because the main character is presented as so perfect. Even E.L. Koninburg, who wrote the foreword of my edition, thought Sara was insufferable at the start. Who wants to read about a seven-year-old know-it-all? Yet when she becomes an underdog, alone in the world without a soul to turn to, we start caring what happens to her. I found Sara's personality growing on me.

The book was published in 1905, so it's early Edwardian with plenty of lingering Victorian harshness. The setting is the storybook London we all enjoy reading about but would hate to live in. The era was horrendous for those deemed to be nobodies. It's disgusting that Becky, the young scullery maid, should remain undernourished unless Sara sneaked some food to her. Miss Minchin owed to her live-in employees to feed them well, but obviously didn't see it that way. And there were no trade unions or fair work tribunals to turn to. 

Sadly, personal status has little do with conduct and industry and everything to do with financial bounty. Sara #1, the little heiress, is admired far and wide. Yet Sara #2, the servant in rags, is largely invisible. Yet she's the same person. Kudos to Frances Hodgson Burnett, for actually living in the era and writing a book to expose these stinking double standards.

The kindness theme is wonderful. It's so moving when Sara is the recipient, especially when her benefactors make it clear that their clandestine generosity fills their days with interest and meaning, whereas they used to drag on wearily. Kindness is its own reward. (Toward the end, I love how Sara eventually starts what could be seen as a precursor of a modern non-profit organisation.)  

But do you want to know what makes it a horror story to me? It's the fact that Captain Crewe latches onto Miss Minchin's Seminary through a recommendation. His friend, Lady Meredith, was impressed enough with the place to pass on the prospectus. So the young captain takes his precious daughter to the dwelling of a monster, convinced he's making the best move. People like Miss Minchin are still at large, pulling the wool over the eyes of supposedly trustworthy friends. So another main theme, which Hodgson Burnett might not have even intended to add, is this. You can't trust well-meaning recommendations. It would make life easier if we could, but friends, we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to go the extra mile and do our homework. That's what I get out of this story. 

But on the whole, Sara becomes inspirational to us as a result of being inspired herself. She's the little girl who faces each day by imagining she's a princess incognito or a prisoner in the Bastille. In turn, readers having a crummy week at school or work may inspire ourselves by remembering how Sara Crewe remembered those noble Bastille prisoners. It really is a ripple effect.

Oh, and Melchisidec the rat is very cool. Some of the best stories have animal characters. It's a tip good authors seem to know. 

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