{F} or my fourth or fifth Christmas, dad made me and my sister a wooden doll house. Two stories, with six rooms and an attic, this enchanting structure sported a tiny fireplace, real carpet, doors that opened and closed, and, best of all, a porch complete with swing. We spent countless hours playing with this house, and, as I grew older, the clever craftsmanship became even more apparent. Perhaps it was this early experience with dolls and their wonderful homes which primed me for Rumer Godden’s children’s books.
Godden, though few are likely to recognize her name today, was a midcentury writer once beloved in her home country. She’s often best remembered in Catholic circles for her classic In This House of Brede, and others may recognize the title Black Narcissus. These are important works, and they deserve full attention in another essay. But it’s Godden’s children’s books which first opened my eyes to her depth of wisdom and observation.
Years ago, when I first read The Kitchen Madonna, it was Godden’s description of a craft, a process, which captured my interest. In this book, we are introduced — yes, introduced; you find that, with Godden’s characters, you grow with them through her stories — to Gregory and Janet. The sibling duo is an odd one: Janet is bubbly and chatty, friendly with everyone. Gregory, the elder, is a loner who rarely talks to others, even his own parents. We follow Gregory as he slowly comes out of his solitude, on a quest for a special icon to cheer the family’s sorrowing Ukrainian housekeeper, Marta.
To spoil the tale just a bit, Gregory decides to make Marta an icon, and my young crafter’s heart delighted in the descriptions of how he did it and what paper, silk, pens, and scissors he used. This was also the case with Godden’s Miss Happiness and Miss Flower, the tale of two homesick Japanese dolls who have a traditional house created for them by a determined little girl and a clever boy. I reveled in Godden’s descriptions of the house’s construction, its roofing, and its flooring; how the garden was created; the tiny, real lightbulb in the hibachi; the miniature quilts and modified tea sets; and the niche scrolls.
With the skill of a master storyteller, Godden shows us the various processes without a hint of dullness. We see the meticulous application of craft on a larger scale in An Episode of Sparrows, in which protagonist Lovejoy Mason tries to make a garden despite overwhelming obstacles and griefs.
Though it may be the wee details that draw us in initially, we stay for the compelling characters. They do not often have interesting names or long pedigrees, are not always the best-behaved, and are often wounded in deep, unseen ways. But Godden asks us to look at them, really look hard. Her characters come alive because they are so truly human, full of sorrows, quirks, and contradictions of the sort that we ourselves know only too well.
Frustrating as it may be at times, Godden rarely allows her audience to fully hate a seemingly nasty character — and, often, her protagonists are very rough diamonds themselves. Gregory has a caring family but won’t let anyone close to him. It’s only when he starts doing something out of love for another that he’s able to break out of his self-centeredness. Or take Belinda Fell, youngest daughter of the Fells in Miss Happiness and Miss Flower. While not the main character, she commands attention, and her naughty ways make us sigh and wish she’d leave her cousin Nona alone. But we shouldn’t write Belinda off, because timid little Nona, sweet as she seems, needs Belinda’s friendship to fully come out of her shell.
A woman of vast life experience, Rumer Godden shows it through the versatile writing in her many literary contributions. Born in England but raised for the first few years of her life in India, Godden travelled back and forth between the two countries for school and ballet. After finishing her schooling and ballet studies, she moved back to India and opened a dance school with her sister. She married in 1934, but after a number of unhappy years, she and her husband separated. This left Godden with two young daughters to support, and she moved to rural India for a while. Eventually, she moved permanently to England, married again, and continued writing. Interestingly, even though some of her notable books have Catholic themes or elements to them, Godden did not convert to Catholicism until the 1960s.
Godden has a respect for her readers as well as her characters. Every detail doesn’t need fleshing out because her words are carefully chosen to leave us with specific impressions and images. Her scenes are alive and vivid, not just showing us the book’s world but drawing us into it. We are digging with Lovejoy in her garden, sorrowing with her on the cold landing stairs, and kneeling with her as she tries to order around a statue of Our Lady in church. Godden also never toys with our feelings or makes her prose overly emotional, but she clearly shows us that life is tough. Sometimes, painful events happen to those we love, and people we loathe are piled with good things. Even a story that is almost completely about dolls, The Doll’s House, has a heart-wrenching moment.
Just as Godden asks us to honestly engage with all her characters, no matter their foibles, so she asks us to come along through painful moments in their lives. It is never gratuitous, but she shows so perfectly in her stories how a thoughtless word or careless action can profoundly impact a child, and how something an adult would never notice could be a mighty trial for them. Pain and joy are mixed beautifully in these stories, reminding us of the inner lives of those around us, and of what it was like to be young.
Miss Happiness and Miss Flower, its sequel Little Plum, The Kitchen Madonna, The Doll’s House, and The Story of Holly and Ivy (a long Christmas picture book illustrated by the inestimable Barbara Cooney) are books I’d recommend for nearly any age. Young girls especially will be charmed by the descriptions of dolls’ homes and furniture, and the consideration Godden gives a doll’s feelings. An Episode of Sparrows is probably better for the twelve-plus crowd, and I’d encourage adults to read it, too. Godden seems to know more about child psychology than any professor, and her wisdom shines through in it.
Finally, there’s Thursday’s Children, which, while about children, I’d classify as a late-teen-plus novel. Drawing on her dance background, Godden spins the story of Doone Penny, an incredibly talented little boy who dreams of becoming a professional ballet dancer. Of all Godden’s books I’ve read so far, this one contained the hardest characters to make allowances for. A soul-blind mother, a resigned father, a horribly jealous sister — these factors and more constantly work against Doone and create pain and heartache for him and the reader. Additionally, there’s a scene involving suicidal ideation and stolen drugs, as well as underage drinking. Despite this (difficult but well-handled) scene, this book is a powerful testament to positive mentorship. This is exemplified in all Godden’s books, but especially here, she shows the impact that kind, careful, sometimes-strict adults can have on a child’s heart. In a world where everyone wants to be so self-reliant, Godden shows us through her novels the life-giving beauty of strong personal connection, particularly from parents and teachers.
Never sappy or sentimental, Rumer Godden’s expressive tales will show you joy in the small things and ask you to look a little deeper. Don’t miss the flowers, and don’t forget the children.