Skip to main content

REVIEW BOOK 1 OF 2024: A LITTLE PRINCESS BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT


Genre: Historical Fiction/ Children's Literature.

Sara Crewe wins the hearts of readers with  her resilience and stoic demeanor even in the face of adversity. 

Born and brought up with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, she knows no wants and needs courtesy her extremely doting father Captain Ralph Crewe who more than makes up for the absence of maternal love in Sara’s life. She lives enveloped by luxury in India and at seven years of age has to leave for London as the hot and humid climate turns out to be not so favourable for her.

Sara’s stay at the Select Seminary run by the stern proprietress Miss Minchin is frought with many ups and downs as life throws many curve balls at poor Sara. A gifted, intelligent girl beyond her years, Sara becomes the cynosure of admiration and the envy that comes along with it in equal measures. 

Sara is also the pupil of honour as her opulent father has loaded her wardrobe with silks, velvets, muffs, furs, hats and shoes and along with it paid for her boarding at a premium parlor room with a personal maid, a carriage and a pony. Her parting gift is a doll whom she calls Emily.

School life is replete with the class bullies Lavinia and Jessie whom she stands up to, defends the duller and smaller ones from their barbs and jostling which in turn earns her a deep friendship with Ermengarde and a four year old tot called Lottie who has 'no mamma' and to whom she becomes an adopted mother resulting in a deep kinship forming despite her own odds.

She is made much of and called Princess Sara because she has all the gracious ways of royalty, empathy for everyone she comes across including a scullery maid Becky who is ill-treated by Miss Minchin and the head cook for the drudge that she is and living on charity in the school attic. 

Miss Minchin secretly detests the kind hearted Sara and when on her eleventh birthday, news of Captain Ralph Crewe’s demise due to jungle fever and a massive loss of fortune invested in diamond mines reaches the school, Miss Minchin sheds all her veneer of false politeness and snatches the parlour room back, dismisses the personal maid and takes possession of all of Sara’s expensive clothes and gifts leaving her only an old black frock and her doll Emily.

Relegated to the school attic without even a blazing fireplace for her boarding, her friends are heartbroken to see a sad turn of events but Sara remains ever so strong in mind and spirit, never once blaming her destiny but taking everything in her stride with a courage never before seen in a eleven year old.

Dismissed as a pupil, Miss Minchin exploits the child making her run errands for the school kitchen in pounding rain, blazing sunshine, sloppy squelching streets or harsh winters. Half-fed, Sara never once complains but pretends she is a princess. This imagination goes a long way in earning the respect of Ermengarde and Lottie who come to visit her often in the attic after lights are out. Becky becomes a staunch friend whom she calls ‘prisoner in the next cell’ and both of them live in a world of their own with Sara reading out to her or telling her stories. 

To cut a long story short, Carmichael who was the business partner of Ralph Crewe wherein he had faced a major loss in the diamond mines is in search of the orphaned daughter and as luck would have it, buys the very house next to the school Sara works as a scullery maid.

After a long spell when the reunion happens, Carmichael is enraged at the treatment meted out to Sara and pulls her out of the school along with Becky, sternly admonishing Miss Minchin and adopts her into a comfortable life again. There is a happy ending for Sara who never once in the face of dire straits forgot her grace, manners and values of sharing, kindness and belief in the magic that would turn things around for her. 


A heart tugging story as this had some great takeaways:

"Whatever comes,cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it."


"When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in--that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies."


"Perhaps to be able to learn things quickly isn't everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people...Lots of clever people have done harm and have been wicked."


"What you have to do with your mind, when your body is miserable, is to make it think of something else."


"Adversity tries people, and mine has tried you and proved how nice you are."


"If nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born open, and so is your heart; and though there may be times when your hands are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of that—warm things, kind things, sweet thing, help and comfort and laughter and sometimes, kind laughter is the best help of all."


"Somehow, something always happens just before things get to the very worst. It is as if Magic did it. If I could only just remember that always. The worse thing never quite comes."

And so it goes to say that these pearls of wisdom embedded in this enchanting tale written in the early 1900's with a timeless treasure of words and classy vocabulary will remain as my keepsake for a long, long time to come. 

©️ Sangeetha Kamath 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

HOME AND HIBERNATION

And out of nowhere came this madness to wreck mayhem in my already topsy turvy world! Tickets back to Singapore were initially booked on the Chennai transit (why of all the cities?) Because of the shortest layover I could muster, given my still delicate health conditions and which was never even an intentional choice in all my 23 years of travel to and from Singapore. This had to be it even though I was on unfamiliar grounds.  But Luck seemed to have a mind of it's own and turned its back on me when Fenjal decided to crash bang in the middle of orderly events, a day before my intended day of travel.  When destiny's favorite child was shielded by Baba and his blessings, even Luck had to bow down and retreat in haste. **** Roused from my siesta with a sense of a peculiar dimness and chill , a far cry from the usually sunny and blinding brightness of humid Mangalore, I couldn't help but have that niggling feeling at the back of my mind. Checking on the flight updates for IXE-M...

IRONCLAD

  I trudged through withered bracken and the frosted winter parade As ice-storms swept across a barren, icicle'd glade A hushed midnight and the gloomy woods were bathed in a dull pallor of the gibbous moon Melodies lamented and moaned an endless, melancholic tune ‘Twas a lone walk through pastures of wilted blooms Solitude was a friend in the summers of honey breath in the deep green woods Swept away by the currents or blown away by the torrents As twilight lazily rested on hillocks and in the amaranthine dells Like a laden cloud I cascaded down when the load was a dead weight I had gathered pieces of myself and strung them together with a parched wreath  Pensive was the boon of listening to rumbling whispers  Like a dimpling stream I flowed and carved my own trails Like the ocean arose and crashed to write my own fate, Letting the sun guide my way and the moon shine on my rugged path Now I ask all the pulsing stars to sing of my struggles,   The forests to hum...

SECOND LIFE SECOND BIRTHDAY

  I finally muster the energy, the grit and the emotional embrace to write about it. When life socked the daylights out of me in ways that I never imagined, I looked on the upside of it as a divine intervention and a another miracle to add to my list in this year 2024 which went down the memory highway full throttle ahead. July 7, Dear Diary is a day which left a distinct mark. A day when my father had a coronary follow up and I not only went along, but also had a check up done for myself. This was a couple of days after my visit to Sai Mandir where Sai Baba guided me to go for a cardiogram. A strong inner voice, authoritative yet kind, a heightened intuition, call it what I may, rang in a manner that couldn't be ignored. That said and done, I had a consultation with my father's doc who did my ECG and ECHO. Minutes flew by in deafening silence when he finally finished the tests and to my horror bluntly revealed that I have an ASD. A 38mm hole in my heart. I was advised to go f...

SAPPHIRE POOLS (DAY 3, POST 1)

Glinting sunlight off jeweled pools of sapphire Shimmering in the vast aridness of coppery fire Fringed with a viridescent canopy of trees fig and fronds of palm A sanctuary for birds and animals to splash about, it's a soothing balm Scorched and parched, my soles trudge on the sun baked grains Seeking respite from the bleeding crimson fireball, stranded I remain Mounting sand dunes, slipping, tumbling, sinking Scraped and raw, peeling sunburnt skin  Veils of illusion lifts from fleeting dreams and hollow shine Fading hues of paradise around reduced to shriveled creepers and withering vines Imperial silver puddles on blazing bronze sand Deceived again by the phantom of the parched land Visions and charms swirl like a mist under a chrome moon Conjuring sprites of the desert weave mirages of oasis and lagoons Sailing across a barren horizon are walls of crystal waves No water lilies and wild roses unfurl under  these mystic skies. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath Pic Courtesy: Pixabay 

TULIP-O'-PURPLE

                                     TULIP-O'-PURPLE The flower you sent me stands tall in a vase of porcelain The bud clammed close concealing drops of rain It holds a promise of a lavender refrain  The silken petals of webbed lilac veins The stalk a mossy green reminds me of meadows The long walks in the Alps and valleys below I conjure up woodlands and dappled  sunset glow Purple is my favourite colour you always know  The delicate bloom of sweet fragrance Reminds me of an amethyst of lustrous brilliance Swaying in the summer breeze it yearns for a dance A single Tulip in a vase takes a ballerina stance Blooming in full two days later Invites butterflies all aflutter As precious as a fairytale dream It is tinged at the tips in hues of clotted cream Purple is soon brown---a colour of wither... A hardbound diary is used to press and preserve  Along with the card and cheri...