Today I get to talk about the first novel I remember reading. If it was the first book, I’d say Green Eggs and Ham. That was the first book I ever read by myself. But the first novel I remember reading was actually a book my Grandma got me. To this day, it’s still one of my favorite books. It’s The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
The Secret Garden is about an English girl named Mary Lennox who goes to live with her uncle after her parents die. She is left to her devices and forced to amuse herself. While she’s surly and selfish at first, being out in the gardens starts to soften her. After her maidservant tells her a story about her late aunt’s locked private garden, Mary searches for it and ultimately finds a way inside. she starts to tend to it, with the help of her sickly cousin. The two eventually restore the garden to its former glory, and the chance to be outside and work with his hands actually gives her cousin the strength he needs to start recovering.
I’m not going to lie, I related a lot to this book. As a kid, I was basically just as obnoxious and hard-headed as Mary Lennox. I loved the idea of finding a secret, forbidden place all to myself. Plus, my Grandma loved to garden, and she was always teaching me about how important and powerful nature is. This book is really important to me, because after she passed away, I feel like I still share this with her.