The Secret Garden

By Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mary Lennox is a sour-faced 10-year-old girl, who is born in India to selfish wealthy British parents who had not wanted her and were too wrapped up in their own lives. She is later sent to Yorkshire, England to live with her uncle, Archibald Craven at his home called Misselthwaite Manor. While exploring the gardens, Mary comes across a badger hole and finds a key belonging to the untended garden. She chances to ask Martha for garden tools, which Martha has delivered by Dickon, her twelve-year-old brother. Mary and Dickon take a liking to each other, as Dickon has a soft way with animals and a good nature. Eager to absorb his gardening knowledge, Mary lets him into the secret of the garden, which he agrees to keep.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sovereign
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781909438552

Frances Hodgson Burnett

Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849--1924) was born in Cheetham, England. After her father's death in 1852, the family found itself in dire financial straits and in 1865 immigrated to the United States, settling near Knoxville, Tennessee. Frances began writing to help earn money for the family, publishing stories in magazines from the age of 19. While the novel Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886) made her a well-known writer of children's fiction, her romantic adult novels were also very popular. From 1898 to 1907, Burnett resided at Great Maytham Hall, a country house in Kent, England. It was the sprawling manor's walled garden that provided the inspiration for The Secret Garden, now considered a classic of English children's literature.

Book preview

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

The Secret Garden

LONDON NEW YORK MELBOURNE TORONTO

MOSCOW CAPE TOWN AUCKLAND

New Edition, Timeless Classic, World Classic

Published by Sovereign for Booktrust.net, a nonprofit literary foundation

promoting literary community projects such as Books Exchange, Books 4 Schools,

Books 4 Libraries, and Audiobooks 4 All.

Sovereign is an imprint of Max Bollinger, 27 Old Gloucester St, London WC1N 3AX

[e-mail]

www.interactive.eu.com

This Edition

First published in 2012

Author: Frances Hodgeson Burnett

Editor: Max Bollinger

Copyright © 2012 Sovereign

Cover design and artwork © 2012 urban-pic.co.uk

All Rights Reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The greatest care has been taken in compiling this book. However, no responsibility can be accepted by the publishers or compilers for the accuracy of the information presented.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book has been requested.

ISBN: 9781909438545 (pbk)

ISBN: 9781909438552 (ebk)

Bref: SGN-03

Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVII

CHILDREN’S CLASSICS

In Honor of Lisa Hart’s 9th Birthday

CHAPTER I

THERE IS 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 some one. 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.

Some one 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.

During the confusion and bewilderment of the second day Mary hid herself in the nursery and was forgotten by everyone. Nobody thought of her, nobody wanted her, and strange things happened of which she knew nothing. Mary alternately cried and slept through the hours. She only knew that people were ill and that she heard mysterious and frightening sounds. Once she crept into the dining-room and found it empty, though a partly finished meal was on the table and chairs and plates looked as if they had been hastily pushed back when the diners rose suddenly for some reason. The child ate some fruit and biscuits, and being thirsty she drank a glass of wine which stood nearly filled. It was sweet, and she did not know how strong it was. Very soon it made her intensely drowsy, and she went back to her nursery and shut herself in again, frightened by cries she heard in the huts and by the hurrying sound of feet. The wine made her so sleepy that she could scarcely keep her eyes open and she lay down on her bed and knew nothing more for a long time.

Many things happened during the hours in which she slept so heavily, but she was not disturbed by the wails and the sound of things being carried in and out of the bungalow.

When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall. The house was perfectly still. She had never known it to be so silent before. She heard neither voices nor footsteps, and wondered if everybody had got well of the cholera and all the trouble was over. She wondered also who would take care of her now her Ayah was dead. There would be a new Ayah, and perhaps she would know some new stories. Mary had been rather tired of the old ones. She did not cry because her nurse had died. She was not an affectionate child and had never cared much for any one. The noise and hurrying about and wailing over the cholera had frightened her, and she had been angry because no one seemed to remember that she was alive. Everyone was too panic-stricken to think of a little girl no one was fond of. When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves. But if everyone had got well again, surely some one would remember and come to look for her.

But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a harmless little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry to get out of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.

How queer and quiet it is, she said. It sounds as if there were no one in the bungalow but me and the snake.

Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on the veranda. They were men’s footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms. What desolation! she heard one voice say. That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever saw her.

Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and was frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel disgracefully neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer she had once seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled, but when he saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.

Barney! he cried out. There is a child here! A child alone! In a place like this! Mercy on us, who is she!

I am Mary Lennox, the little girl said, drawing herself up stiffly. She thought the man was very rude to call her father’s bungalow A place like this! I fell asleep when everyone had the cholera and I have only just wakened up. Why does nobody come?

It is the child no one ever saw! exclaimed the man, turning to his companions. She has actually been forgotten!

Why was I forgotten? Mary said, stamping her foot. Why does nobody come?

The young man whose name was Barney looked at her very sadly. Mary even thought she saw him wink his eyes as if to wink tears away.

Poor little kid! he said. There is nobody left to come.

It was in that strange and sudden way that Mary found out that she had neither father nor mother left; that they had died and been carried away in the night, and that the few native servants who had not died also had left the house as quickly as they could get out of it, none of them even remembering that there was a Missie Sahib. That was why the place was so quiet. It was true that there was no one in the bungalow but herself and the little rustling snake.

CHAPTER II

MISTRESS MARY QUITE CONTRARY

Mary had liked to look at her mother from a distance and she had thought her very pretty, but as she knew very little of her she could scarcely have been expected to love her or to miss her very much when she was gone. She did not miss her at all, in fact, and as she was a self-absorbed child she gave her entire thought to herself, as she had always done. If she had been older she would no doubt have been very anxious at being left alone in the world, but she was very young, and as she had always been taken care of, she supposed she always would be. What she thought was that she would like to know if she was going to nice people, who would be polite to her and give her her own way as her Ayah and the other native servants had done.

She knew that she was not going to stay at the English clergyman’s house where she was taken at first. She did not want to stay. The English clergyman was poor and he had five children nearly all the same age and they wore shabby clothes and were always quarreling and snatching toys from each other. Mary hated their untidy bungalow and was so disagreeable to them that after the first day or two nobody would play with her. By the second day they had given her a nickname which made her furious.

It was Basil who thought of it first. Basil was a little boy with impudent blue eyes and a turned-up nose, and Mary hated him. She was playing by herself under a tree, just as she had been playing the day the cholera broke out. She was making heaps of earth and paths for a garden and Basil came and stood near to watch her. Presently he got rather interested and suddenly made a suggestion.

Why don’t you put a heap of stones there and pretend it is a rockery? he said. There in the middle, and he leaned over her to point.

Go away! cried Mary. I don’t want boys. Go away!

For a moment Basil looked angry, and then he began to tease. He was always teasing his sisters. He danced round and round her and made faces and sang and laughed.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells, and cockle shells,

And marigolds all in a row."

He sang it until the other children heard and laughed, too; and the crosser Mary got, the more they sang Mistress Mary, quite contrary; and after that as long as she stayed with them they called her Mistress Mary Quite Contrary when they spoke of her to each other, and often when they spoke to her.

You are going to be sent home, Basil said to her, at the end of the week. And we’re glad of it.

I am glad of it, too, answered Mary. Where is home?

She doesn’t know where home is! said Basil, with seven-year-old scorn. It’s England, of course. Our grandmama lives there and our sister Mabel was sent to her last year. You are not going to your grandmama. You have none. You are going to your uncle. His name is Mr. Archibald Craven.

I don’t know anything about him, snapped Mary.

I know you don’t, Basil answered. You don’t know anything. Girls never do. I heard father and mother talking about him. He lives in a great, big, desolate old house in the country and no one goes near him. He’s so cross he won’t let them, and they wouldn’t come if he would let them. He’s a hunchback, and he’s horrid. I don’t believe you, said Mary; and she turned her back and stuck her fingers in her ears, because she would not listen any more.

But she thought over it a great deal afterward; and when Mrs. Crawford told her that night that she was going to sail away to England in a few days and go to her uncle, Mr. Archibald Craven, who lived at Misselthwaite Manor, she looked so stony and stubbornly uninterested that they did not know what to think about her. They tried to be kind to her, but she only turned her face away when Mrs. Crawford attempted to kiss her, and held herself stiffly when Mr. Crawford patted her shoulder.

She is such a plain child, Mrs. Crawford said pityingly, afterward. And her mother was such a pretty creature. She had a very pretty manner, too, and Mary has the most unattractive ways I ever saw in a child. The children call her ‘Mistress Mary Quite Contrary,’ and though it’s naughty of them, one can’t help understanding it.

Perhaps if her mother had carried her pretty face and her pretty manners oftener into the nursery Mary might have learned some pretty ways too. It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone, to remember that many people never even knew that she had a child at all.

I believe she scarcely ever looked at her, sighed Mrs. Crawford. When her Ayah was dead there was no one to give a thought to the little thing. Think of the servants running away and leaving her all alone in that deserted bungalow. Colonel McGrew said he nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the door and found her standing by herself in the middle of the room.

Mary made the long voyage to England under the care of an officer’s wife, who was taking her children to leave them in a boarding-school. She was very much absorbed in her own little boy and girl, and was rather glad to hand the child over to the woman Mr. Archibald Craven sent to meet her, in London. The woman was his housekeeper at Misselthwaite Manor, and her name was Mrs. Medlock. She was a stout woman, with very red cheeks and sharp black eyes. She wore a very purple dress, a black silk mantle with jet fringe on it and a black bonnet with purple velvet flowers which stuck up and trembled when she moved her head. Mary did not like her at all, but as she very seldom liked people there was nothing remarkable in that; besides which it was very evident Mrs. Medlock did not think much of her.

My word! she’s a plain little piece of goods! she said. And we’d heard that her mother was a beauty. She hasn’t handed much of it down, has she, ma’am? Perhaps she will improve as she grows older, the officer’s wife said good-naturedly. If she were not so sallow and had a nicer expression, her features are rather good. Children alter so much.

She’ll have to alter a good deal, answered Mrs. Medlock. And, there’s nothing likely to improve children at Misselthwaite—if you ask me! They thought Mary was not listening because she was standing a little apart from them at the window of the private hotel they had gone to. She was watching the passing buses and cabs and people, but she heard quite well and was made very curious about her uncle and the place he lived in. What sort of a place was it, and what would he be like? What was a hunchback? She had never seen one. Perhaps there were none in India.

Since she had been living in other people’s houses and had had no Ayah, she had begun to feel lonely and to think queer thoughts which were new to her. She had begun to wonder why she had never seemed to belong to anyone even when her father and mother had been alive. Other children seemed to belong to their fathers and mothers, but she had never seemed to really be anyone’s little girl. She had had servants, and food and clothes, but no one had taken any notice of her. She did not know that this was because she was a disagreeable child; but then, of course, she did not know she was disagreeable. She often thought that other people were, but she did not know that she was so herself.

She thought Mrs. Medlock the most disagreeable person she had ever seen, with her common, highly colored face and her common fine bonnet. When the next day they set out on their journey to Yorkshire, she walked through the station to the railway carriage with her head up and trying to keep as far away from her as she could, because she did not want to seem to belong to her. It would have made her angry to think people imagined she was her little girl.

But Mrs. Medlock was not in the least disturbed by her and her thoughts. She was the kind of woman who would stand no nonsense from young ones. At least, that is what she would have said if she had been asked. She had not wanted to go to London just when her sister Maria’s daughter was going to be married, but she had a comfortable, well paid place as housekeeper at Misselthwaite Manor and the only way in which she could keep it was to do at once what Mr. Archibald Craven told her to do. She never dared even to ask a question.

Captain Lennox and his wife died of the cholera, Mr. Craven had said in his short, cold way. Captain Lennox was my wife’s brother and I am their daughter’s guardian. The child is to be brought here. You must go to London and bring her yourself.

So she packed her small trunk and made the journey.

Mary sat in her corner of the railway carriage and looked plain and fretful. She had nothing to read or to look at, and she had folded her thin little black-gloved hands in her lap. Her black dress made her look yellower than ever, and her limp light hair straggled from under her black crepe hat.

A more marred-looking young one I never saw in my life, Mrs. Medlock thought. (Marred is a Yorkshire word and means spoiled and pettish.) She had never seen a child who sat so still without doing anything; and at last she got tired of watching her and began to talk in a brisk, hard voice.

I suppose I may as well tell you something about where you are going to, she said. Do you know anything about your uncle?

No, said Mary.

Never heard your father and mother talk about him?

No, said Mary frowning. She frowned because she remembered that her father and mother had never talked to her about anything in particular. Certainly they had never told her things.

Humph, muttered Mrs. Medlock, staring at her queer, unresponsive little face. She did not say any more for a few moments and then she began again.

I suppose you might as well be told something—to prepare you. You are going to a queer place.

Mary said nothing at all, and Mrs. Medlock looked rather discomfited by her apparent indifference, but, after taking a breath, she went on.

"Not but that it’s a grand big place in a gloomy way, and

Reviews for The Secret Garden

[katherine.boykins · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Mary, a spoiled girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents in India. Encouraged to get outside, Mary discovers a secret garden, waiting to be brought back to life. With the help of her new friend Dickon, she transforms the garden and the garden transforms everyone who enters. This is another one of my favorite books. This book describes the garden in such detail that it can help students imagine what the garden looks like. The students could write about what they would do if they found a secret garden of their own. They could also compare and contrast this book with the movie version as well.

[mhanover10 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Fun audiobook with Fiona Hughes reading it.

[heatherlinc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Having just re-read "Black Beauty" and being disappointed, i was nervous about revisiting this book but, thankfully, my fears were unfounded. "The Secret Garden" was as delightful as the first time I read it many, many years ago.

[soylentgreen23 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

There is a lot to like about this children's classic: the set-up (Mary's family is all killed off during an outbreak of cholera in India - ouch! You don't have cold-hearted openings like that so often these days, and certainly not in this genre), the characterisations, the way that Hodgson Burnett attaches her story to the landscape of the Moors, the way that good life lessons are carefully disseminated without every becoming too cloying... and yet, because the ending was so well sign-posted by the halfway stage of the book, some sections did tend towards the tedious. Add to that the generally poor treatment meted out to the underclass (the poor, the gardeners, the household staff) and you end up with a book that it's easy to like and easy to be put off by. I'm glad I read it, and I would have no difficulty in recommending it to others, but there is a part of me that thinks that this book's time has been and gone.

[indygo88 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Secret Garden tells the story of Mary, a young girl of privilege growing up in India who, after her parents' death of cholera, is swept away to live in her estranged uncle's Yorkshire manor house in England. Spoiled and disagreeable, with no history of any true friendships, she must adapt to a new environment and learn to entertain herself.I'm one of probably a very few who have not previously read or seen the movie adaptation of The Secret Garden. I've had a copy of the book on my shelf for quite a while, but it wasn't until just recently that I decided to delve into an audio copy available on Hoopla, which I devoured pretty quickly while doing various work & household activities. This book is definitely a product of its era (published in 1911), but that's part of its charm. The most enjoyable aspect for me was reading about the true pleasure of the discovery of a garden and the effects that discovery can have on a child's imagination and outlook on life. Sometimes it's the simple things which can bring us such pleasure, and it's nice to be able to look at that through a child's eye.

[tess_schoolmarm · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Why did I wait so long to read this classic? The plot of this book centers around Mary Lennox, who came to England to live with a brooding uncle who she has never met as her parents both died of Cholera. She was a most disagreeable child. While there, she discovers her most disagreeable cousin who has been told he is an invalid from birth. She also meets Dicken, a Yorkshire lad who introduces the moor to Mary and her cousin. Just delightful!

[angelab86 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favorite childhood books, about a young girl named Mary who is sent to live with her recluse Uncle in England after her parents die in India. She befriends her spoiled cousin and a local common boy, and together they discover an abandoned garden.

[bettesbooks · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved this as a child and reading it as an adult was a treat. A must read.

[sarahgracegrzy · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A really good read, and a classic, but not really my thing.

[larisaawhite · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This charming children’s classic, written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, is worth reading as an adult, even if you read it first as a child. The story vividly and accurately portrays the emotional journey that many third-culture-kids experience, as they confront the reverse-culture-shock of repatriation.Mary Lennox is a nine-year-old, British military brat, born and raised in British Colonial India. The story begins in the midst of a cholera epidemic, which kills both of her parents. When a pair of British officers discover Mary all alone in her parents’ empty bungalow, she is quickly sent “home” to England, to live with an uncle she has never met. Although the “spoilt and sour” demeanor Mary exhibits at the start of the book is certainly in part the result of attachment issues caused by neglectful parents, it is also very clear that many of the things that trouble her about her new home are simply the result of culture shock. And, as is typical for TCKs “returning home” to their passport countries, her ignorance of local customs is perceived as willful insolence, and any mention she makes of “how things were done” in India, is perceived as boastful arrogance.It is only when she begins applying her TCK skills of “foreign” language acquisition (learning to speak the Yorkshire dialect spoken by the local people), studying the details of her new environment (learning to understand an appreciate the strange natural beauty and wildlife of the moor), and working on collaborative projects with local residents (reviving a neglected, secret garden), that she overcomes her grief, and begins to thrive in her passport culture.And the secret to her success? The “magic” of choosing to change her attitude toward the foreign land she now calls home.

[philsyphe · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

“The Secret Garden” passed me by during childhood. Don’t know why, as I read a lot during my primary school years.Having read and enjoyed it as an adult, however, I’m certain I would’ve loved it as a child. It has that charming quality that you find in Louis May Alcott's children's books.The descriptive parts are vivid. I’m no gardening fanatic, but loved every minute of following little Mary around the huge gardens, especial the secret one. I like how the robin is used as a character, and how he helps to change Mary from a selfish brat into a precious child.My only disappointment – a slight one at that – is the two closing chapters. Without giving anything away, the narrative switches gears in that it changes focus from Mary to Colin and his father. Yes, this is important, and it should be worked through to a satisfactory closure, but Mary is sidelined, pushed right of the limelight, when this – in my mind at least – is her story. In other words, I felt disappointed that the main character doesn’t get the last word in or have the same level of closure as the supporting cast.Despite the above criticism, it’s not so disappointing that it detracts from the story overall. Therefore, I feel this charming little tale deserves five stars.

[angelag86 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favorite childhood books, about a young girl named Mary who is sent to live with her recluse Uncle in England after her parents die in India. She befriends her spoiled cousin and a local common boy, and together they discover an abandoned garden.

[marie2830-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A very sweet, and well written book. A perfect read for February/March/April, and fits the transition from winter to summer. I just disliked Colin so much, that it weighed down my opinion of the book. In the middle of the book you find colin and, after that the focus on Mary disappears almost completely. I was very displeased with that, because she was in sort the main character. That said it is a book that makes you very happy, and makes you think about being outside more.

[5eva5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

After Mary Lennox's parent die, she is sent from India to Yorkshire, where, ignored by the adults, she finds a secret garden and a few other of the manor's secrets as well. I never read this as a child for some reason, but I enjoyed it a lot more than I had expected, to be honest. I think I had expected a more simplistic story, but it's quite complex (for a children's story) and the characters are well-developed as well (even if one of them tends slightly toward caricature). Very feel-good read.

[thereadingmermaid · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very very close to the movie version that I fell in love with as a child. For a classic it is very easy to read and easy to follow. The story is full of magic and a child's wonder. Very entertaining and captivating. Highly recommend.

[kristinah-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was the first book I read in school and I loved it then. I love it now. I would definitely recommend it.

[lindaweeks · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

lovely story about the power of nature and nurture to restore and teach young and old

[hopeevey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I love this book! I think the author would have had a slightly stronger message if she hadn't gone into exposition on the power of focusing on the positive; the narrative carried that message very strongly all by itself. I cried at the end. I will be re-reading this one; it's like therapy in book form.

[dasam-5 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An "children's book" adults should read or reread

When I was young, I skipped from Golden Books and comic books to adult reading and missed many of the classics for children. Reading The Secret Garden now as an older adult opens the gate to remembering the Magic when I was young enough to know that everything and everyone was constantly new and fresh and rich with living.

[abergsman-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I cherished this book as a child, and I still adore it as an adult. Not all books hold up well into adulthood, I am thrilled that this one did.

I just finished reading this together with my daughter, who loves The Secret Garden as much as I do. We read a beautifully illustrated (unabridged) edition, by the talented illustrator Inga Moore.

[jguidry-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not an exciting adventure, but a sweet story. I enjoyed the story probably as much as I did when I read it as a child. An ignored, lonely, spoiled child unites with another ignored, lonely, spoiled child and they have childish "adventures" together. I enjoyed seeing the children grow together.

[pamv-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What a sweet story this was. I can't wait to have the opportunity to sit with both my granddaughters and read this out loud with them.

[kobooks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I maybe one of the few adults who have never read this story as a child. I really liked the beginning of the book and overall the message of positive thinking and exercise that can make you feel good and give you a sense of accomplishment. I found the part about chanting and magic a little weird but perhaps I would not think this if I was a child reading it. Overall I think this is 3.5 stars.

[josephdc22_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Secret Garden is a classic novel written by Frances Hodgson Burnett.It tells the story of three kids, and a man, whose lives were transformed by a secret garden.The main characters in the story are Mary, the little girl who lost her parents to an outbreak of cholera in India; Colin, the son of the master of the mansion; Dickson, the younger brother of one of the female servants in the household; and Archibald Craven, Colin's father.The minor characters are Ben Weatherstaff, the old gardener; Martha, one of the female servants and who becomes Mary's friend; Mrs. Medlock, the head servant; and Susan Sowerby, Dickon's and Martha's mother.Mary lost her parents in India. Having no one else to take care of her, she was sent to England to her uncle who owns a huge manor in the middle of a moor. She is an ill-tempered and ill-mannered child for she has never received any of her mother's love and attention.Colin is almost as old as Mary. He is a very sickly child. He is bed-ridden out of choice, and he is prone to bouts of anger and hysteria. He is a miserable child who believes that he looks horrible and that he is dying. He, too, is a neglected child. His father doesn't want to look at him because he reminds him very much of his mother who died when he was a baby. So his father is almost always out of the house, wandering from place to place.Archibald Craven is a severely depressed and troubled man. His wife died ten years ago due to a freak accident. They have a very beautiful garden filled with roses. The garden is sort of their secret hideaway. When she died, he almost went mad with grief. He locked the garden, buried the key, and forgot all about it. He also abandoned his son, because he reminded him so much of his wife. He provided for his every need -- food, shelter, clothing -- except love and attention.Dickson is a country lad. He is a few years older than Mary and Colin. He loves the outdoors, has foxes and birds for his friends, and enjoys making plants grow.Mary, Colin, and Dickon quickly become friends. Mary discovers the secret garden with the help of a robin, and she shares her discovery with them.The garden, with all its beauty, serenity and secrecy, as well as their friendship, transformed them. There is a parallel change between the garden and their characters. At first, the garden looked dead and gray. But with care, the children were able to transform it into a haven of beautiful blooming flowers. At first, Mary and Colin looked sullen, morbid, ill-tempered and mean. But with the passing of time, and with the nourishing power of their friendship, and the beautiful effect the garden had on them (Colin called it "Magic"), the children became more healthy and bursting with life.Archibald Craven dreamt of his wife calling out to him to go back to the garden. He went back and was utterly amazed when he saw the secret garden come alive again. But he was more moved by the sight of his son, no longer sickly, but strong and bright. Colin carried in the light of his eyes the same eyes of his mother, Archibald's wife. He somehow finds his peace.I liked the story, but somehow I didn't find it very enjoyable. Maybe it's because I didn't really try hard enough to imagine the setting of the story. I'm not very familiar with the different kinds of flowers and plants it describes (nor am I fond of flowers and gardens, for that matter). I also don't know what a Yorkshire accent sounds like, so I found it a bit difficult to make sense of what the characters were saying.I like the theme of the novel, though. Mary, Colin, and Archibald are wounded characters. Mary and Colin suffered from parental neglect. Archibald was haunted by the death of his wife. He loved her so much, and she was so beautiful inside and out that, when he lost her, he couldn't live sanely anymore. He had to run away from the boy who reminded him of her, and he had to seek out elsewhere the beauty that he once beheld in his wife and their secret garden. But all three of them eventually found peace. Friendship, love, and beauty -- these were the things that healed them in the end.

[gma2lana · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book at the beginning, the talk about magic was a little repetitive to me at times. I would recommend this book however as a good read.

[maggie_rum · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a childhood classic that should be on every young girl's to-read list.

[annedenney · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is an illustrated version and it is a treasure. It also contains the complete story, not just an abbreviated version, which is bonus.

[crazy4reading · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Now many may be surprised to learn that I never read this book as a child. I have heard of it but wan never one to read books just because everyone said they were good or that I should read them. I could be very defiant when it came to reading.I am glad that I did finally read this book. I have seen parts of the movie but never from the beginning. This is a very nice story of a girl, two boys and a secret garden. The names of the children are Mary, Dickon and Colon.Mary is quite contrary is what children from India called her when she lived there with her parents. When her parents and everyone she knew had died she was sent to live with her uncle. At first she was not happy to be in England. She is very thin and looks ill but once she starts venturing outside and getting exercise and fresh air everyone notices how she grows and changes.She meets Dickon and those two start taking care of the Secret Garden. One night Mary hears some one crying and is determined to find out who it is. She finds a boy in his room crying. This is her cousin Colon that she did not know existed. The bonds that are formed between all three children is quite remarkable and believable.

[sonja_somerville · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This has always been one of my favorite books. I love the vivid images of a sallow, angry girl brought from India and dumped into a bleak English manor where no one cares that she thinks she should be fawned over like a lap dog. I always admired the caring of the people who take on her upbringing when they didn't have to and who help her figure out that she can be a strong, joyful, interesting person with just a little effort. The whole twisted element of her unexpected cousin makes it even more intriguing.

[ayling_52 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I finally read this book, after having always wanting too.As a child, I remember going to see the 1993 film and I have always loved that. Perhaps that is what kept me from reading it so much, having loved the film so much I suppose I saw no need to read the book.I am glad I have read it now, more then glad as it is a lovely, sweet and beautifully written book. I thought it was going to be more childish, but in fact it is not. It is a pity they do not also publish this book as an adult book as well because despite it being about young children I think it will also be enjoyed by older people as well. It was a lovely, light hearted book, one that grows in you and makes you want to read more and more. It has a good message and a good moral story though without being too pushy or overly religious as I feared. It has made me long to go to Yorkshire though, and see the moors and listen to the beautiful accent they have up there. I wonder though, if it it is as strong as it must have been in the past.I was also thinking as I read this, that at the time of publication my grandma would have been too. I don't know why I come to think of such a strange unrelated thing. But that is what life - in a way - must have been like when my grandma was a baby - the clothes and the ways of life. I remember seeing this for the first time but I can't remember if my grandma was there with us or not - we had seen her on that day.I love reading classics for the fact that they were written for the people of that day and not us. The Secret Garden was a book my grandma or her siblings may have read when it wasn't quite yet a classic. I think all books have a time and place and the meaning and the way you read it changes even though the book itself does not. Hmm, that's slightly off on a tangent I know but it makes me curious I suppose, as to how differently perhaps we read a book - or how a book is written, in relation to the time and period.