Three Sorts of People

Humanity can be roughly divided into three sorts of people - those who find comfort in literature, those who find comfort in personal adornment, and those who find comfort in food.
- Elizabeth Goudge

I think I fall into all three categories. However, the literature one is where my heart is. I can deal without the others, but without literature? No. I cannot.

I just finished reading the most delightful book, The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge (my mum got it for my birthday!), which is a young adult story, or you could call it a fairy tale. I would place it in the same charming realm of C.S. Lewis' Narnia books and Madeleine L'Engle's young adult books.

I am just getting to know Elizabeth Goudge. She wrote mostly in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s. She lived in England and her writings possess the most detailed loveliness of my favourite place. She encapsulates the beauty and depth of England, and in this book, the details of the landscapes, buildings, outfits, and characters was so rich. For the imaginative reader like myself, this book is a dream in book form.

The trees did not grow too close together. Between them opened the glades that last night had been silver and now were clothed in the tawny grass of very early spring. Soon, Maria guessed, the grass would be green and full of primroses. The gorse was already in flower, glorious clumps of gold that shone almost as triumphantly as the flowers in the formal garden.

Maria is an orphan who finds herself moving from London to the country to live with her uncle at Moonacre Manor, which was more like a little castle. Sir Benjamin wears the most vibrant, bright coloured clothes, and always wears his best vests and classy outfits. She learns that she is the heiress of the land and the surrounding village, but there is a sad story regarding her heritage that she means to reverse. With her goodness and kindness she sets out to know the village and the people, learn her story, and figure out how she can change it.

The names on the map, quite ordinary names through they were, sounded in her head like the notes of some beloved familiar piece of music.

It is the kind of story I cannot put down. An air of mystery, a little adventure, and good characters who are important to various aspects of her life. And the unraveling of it all to the reader. And of course, the English countryside, to me, is the loveliest place on earth, so I will be dreaming about the rolling hills and flowers blooming for quite awhile.