The Secret Garden

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The Secret Garden book cover

The Secret Garden is written by Frances Hodgson Burnett. The book published in 1911 become one of Burnett's most popular novels and seen as a classic of English children's literature. Eventhough The Secret Garden is categorized as children's literature, it was originally serialized in a magazine for adults before being published as a whole story book in 1911.[1] It was originally marketed for the young and adult readers.

Plot

An Orphan named Mary is sent to live with her uncle Archibald Craven in England when her parents die during a cholera epidemic in India. When she is left to explore a gothic mansion, she discovers a mysterious walled garden that has been locked for over a decade. Mr. Craven, her uncle, is largely absent and his household is run by his housekeeper, Mrs. Medlock, who picks up Mary in London and conveys her to her new home. With the help of a robin and a good-natured Yorkshire boy, she uncovers why the garden has been locked away, and how to bring it—and herself—back to life.[2]

Controversy

This book is racist in some parts, especially to Indians. Indians are othered to an extreme degree, from beginning to end. Indians are referred to as "natives" and "blacks," and Mary is angry and insulted when she's compared to them.[3] In one scene, when Martha tells Mary that she’d expected her to be an Indian child, she was furious. Taken from its original book, page 34, below is the controversial conversation;

Mary sat up in bed furious.

“What!” she said. “What! You thought I was a native. You—you daughter of a pig!”

Martha stared and looked hot.

“Who are you callin’ names?” she said. “You needn’t be so vexed. That’s not th’ way for a young lady to talk. I’ve nothin’ against th’ blacks. When you read about ’em in tracts they’re always very religious. You always read as a black’s a man an’ a brother. I’ve never seen a black an’ I was fair pleased to think I was goin’ to see one close. When I come in to light your fire this mornin’ I crep’ up to your bed an’ pulled th’ cover back careful to look at you. An’ there you was,” disappointedly, “no more black than me—for all you’re so yeller.”

Mary did not even try to control her rage and humiliation.

“You thought I was a native! You dared! You don’t know anything about natives! They are not people—they’re servants who must salaam to you. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!”[4][5]

References