Rumer Godden (1907–1998)

The Story of Holly and Ivy, illustrated by Adrienne Adams.

I have always loved Rumer Godden's The Story of Holly and Ivy, a delightful little Christmas tale in which a lonely doll named Holly, and a lonelier orphan named Ivy, find one another and a home, all thanks to the magic of the season. But as I was rereading it this Christmas Eve past, it suddenly occurred to me that this wasn't the story of two lonely souls, but of three. Which, if you've read the book, might seem obvious. How odd show more that, as a younger reader, I breezed on past Mrs. Jones, and her quiet longing for a child, concentrating more on Holly and Ivy, whereas this time around, Mrs. Jones' narrative seemed particularly poignant to me.

It's a testament to Godden's skill as an author, I think, that this brief early reader/chapter-book - only sixty-four pages - can feel so fresh, after being read so many times, and still have something new to offer, upon each successive reading. The illustrations in my vintage edition were done by Adrienne Adams (as opposed to the more recent version with artwork by Barbara Cooney), and have a soft, dreamy quality that greatly enhances the charm of the story. I think my favorite is the end-paper illustration, with the bare tree standing in the village square!

All in all, The Story of Holly and Ivy is a sweet little holiday tale, one I would recommend to little girls who love doll stories, to young readers who enjoy magical Christmas adventures, or to Adrienne Adams fans. show less

Selina Russell and her shaggy pony Haggis befriend a cantankerous old farmer in this wonderfully evocative children's novel from the pen of Rumer Godden. Set in the Scottish border country, the story unfolds in the small village of Menoock, when Selina's Great Aunt Emily has left a bequest of twenty thousand pounds to build a park for the people. This good fortune leads to strife however, when solitary Mr. McFadden, the owner of the only piece of land that could work as the site of the park, show more won't sell his land. Angered by his stubborn refusal, the people of Menoock turn their back on him, and the Russell family are caught up in the conflict, owing to their kindness to the old man, after a bad accident occurs. Things come to a head one misty Halloween, as Selina sets out to deliver some of that holiday to her friend, who never seems to have experienced it...

Published in 1975, Mr. McFadden's Hallowe'en is another one of those marvelously engaging tales from Godden, whose children's books I usually find outstanding. I read the book in one sitting, and found everything about it appealing, from the cast of characters both human and animal—stubborn Haggis, with a mind of his own; beautiful, intelligent Lady; obstreperous but eventually friendly Big Wullie the gander—to the beautifully-realized setting, so wonderfully described. I loved the details about a traditional Scottish Halloween, with the carving of the turnips (a precursor to our North American pumpkin jack-o-lanterns), and the gathering of treats. The story itself tugs at the heartstrings, especially if the reader has a weakness for tales about oddballs and misfits finding their own people. There's sub-plot where abandoned Tim finds a home, of course, and Selina herself is a misfit, but the eponymous Mr. McFadden, despite his brusqueness, is the one whose transformation is most satisfying. There were elements here I found disturbing—the village's behavior toward Mr. McFadden, and the elder's boys' treatment of Selina on Halloween night—but they felt somehow true, in context. All in all, a lovely little book, one I would like to add to my personal collection, and reread in future. show less

The Plantagenets—a group of dolls of different types, made into a family by being thrown together and belonging to the same two girls—long for a proper doll house in this children's novel from Rumer Godden. Their wish is granted when the little girls, Emily and Charlotte, inherit a house from an elderly relative, and everything seems ideal at first. Tottie, a little farthing doll from 1846, is distressed by her experiences being loaned out to an exhibition, but is happy when she show more discovers she is not to be sold. But when Marchpane—a vain and cruel doll Tottie knew long ago—enters the scene, the Plantagenets find their happiness destroyed. Pushed aside in their own house, and disregarded by Emily, the elder of their two human girls, things go from bad to worse. Only an act of sacrificial love on the part of Birdie, a celluloid doll who is the mother of the Plantagenet family, sets things to rights...

Originally published in 1947, with illustrations by Dana Saintsbury, The Dolls' House was republished in the edition I read in 1962, with new artwork from Tasha Tudor. I have not seen the earlier edition, and therefore cannot speak to its appeal, but when it comes to the illustrations, this newer edition was simply charming! Tudor's black and white drawings, sprinkled throughout, are delightful, and greatly enhanced my reading experience. The story itself was fairly engaging, although nowhere near as appealing as some of Godden's other doll tales, such as The Story of Holly and Ivy, which is a personal favorite. I tend to have an on-again off-again relationship with doll fiction, sometimes finding it very appealing and poignant, and then sometimes being indifferent to it. This was shaping up to be in the latter category, until the final few chapters, which were unexpected and quite melancholy. I think Godden does some interesting things here, playing with themes such as the longing for a home—the dolls are a mismatched group, and some have experienced misfortune, so I interpreted this longing not as materialism, as some reviewers have stated, but as a desire for safety—and the silliness of class divisions. After all, Marchpane is a refined and expensive doll, whereas Birdie is a "cheap" celluloid doll, but in the end, it is the latter who has true value. All in all, I'm glad to have read this one, even though it's not destined to become a personal favorite, and I would recommend it to readers who enjoy doll fiction. show less

An all-ages fable that I adored when I was a child. Glad to find I still respect and am moved by it. I love the bits of humor in this short story which is already rich in both melancholy and joy. Of course I also love the illustrations: Godden and du Bois are both great. Anybody who cages a wild animal after seeing the picture of the dove trying to show the mousewife what it means to fly (p. 22 this edition) has no soul.

I recommend you read this aloud to your family or pets early this show more coming spring.

Edit: I've been reading some more by Godden, and realizing why I have mixed feelings about her different works. She's always [L]iterary, but sometimes more successfully than at other times. This is a successful one. It is not too difficult for children, but it is nonetheless rich enough for rereads. And I am of the opinion that deep rereading is a very good thing. show less