I read an awful lot as a kid, but there are still plenty of books that I missed. I’m starting to wonder if I had some sort of strange prejudice against girls named Betsy–after all, I didn’t discover Betsy Ray until college. And only recently did I discover another delightful Betsy.
Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (published in 1917) became a choice for the museum’s book club when I discovered that Fisher was a devotee of Maria Montessori’s ideas and had written the book to promote those ideas. Our theme this year is “education” so it seemed like a good way to talk about the student experience during the early 20th century. Montessori’s ideas were relatively new (and somewhat unpopular) in the United States in 1917. I’ll admit–when I started reading, I expected it to be more than a wee bit preachy. Instead, I found a thoroughly delightful addition to the “plucky orphan who finds a better home” genre. If a reader didn’t know about the Montessori connection, they certainly wouldn’t guess that this is a book with an agenda.
Unlike many similar books, Betsy has a pretty good home at the opening of the book. She is completely coddled by her Aunt Frances, a woman who might have been the very first helicopter parent. When Aunt Frances’ mother becomes ill, Betsy is sent to the dreadful Putney cousins–a family that makes everyone do chores! Think for themselves! Learn by doing! In a completely predictable turn of events, Betsy develops into a strong, confident young lady and ultimately continues to live with the Putney family.
During our book club discussion, we wondered some why this book wasn’t better known. Though there seem to be plenty of folks incredibly nostalgic for this book, Betsy usually isn’t mentioned in the same breath as Anne Shirley, Sara Crewe, Mary Lennox, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm or even Pollyanna. We came up with a couple of theories as to why. One is that the most famous orphans weren’t created by American authors. Another person suggested that it was because there is only one book about this Betsy.
But I wonder if part of it doesn’t have to do with the author herself. Dorothy Canfield Fisher wrote many, many books–some for children, some for adults. She was much, much more than a writer–an activist, reformer, and all around fascinating lady. I’m dumbfounded that there hasn’t been a full length biography of her since the one published just after her death in 1958. In one of my favorite tidbits, she served on the Book of the Month selection committee for over 25 years. Did her wide-ranging involvement mean that this charming part of her career was left in the dust? Was it not significant enough? And yet, the book has basically stayed in print all these years. Nevertheless, out of our book club, there was only one person who had read it as a child. And the only reason I knew about it was through my Betsy-Tacy friends. But we all agreed that we would certainly hand Understood Betsy to a child who liked historical fiction. It is perplexing how this book has both lasted, and yet been undercover.
Regardless, it’s always exciting to add another character to the orphan club in kidlit history. There are an awful lot of members!
At any rate, I was reminded of that long ago paper a few weeks ago, when I finally read the first volume of the Lone Star Journals, Get Along, Little Dogies: The Chisholm Trail Diary of Hallie Lou Wells. Unlike the Dear America series, these are all written by the same author, Lisa Waller Rogers. But they’re definitely in a similar mold–a fictional diary with some additional background information at the end. There are two others in the series–one about the Runaway Scrape after the fall of the Alamo and one about the Galveston Hurricane. And, of course, even more importantly, they’re about my home state of Texas.
Two things convinced me to check it out: a homestead story from 1918, past what people assume is the “pioneer” era and the fact that the book is based on the author’s family history.
Today was quite the day for breaking news in the kidlit history world: Scarlet fever wasn’t the cause of Mary Ingalls’ blindness. Friends linked to articles on 
So, when I got a note offering me a review copy of Home Front Girl: A Diary of Love, Literature and Growing up in Wartime America, I was a little excited. This sounded exactly like my kind of book–and it is! Joan Wehlen, born in 1922, kept a diary from the time she was 12. Upon her death in 2010, her daughter found volumes of these notebooks, saw their value, and edited and published them. Three cheers for Susan Signe Morrison! As a historian, I’m thrilled that his diary is now widely available. In doing a quick amazon search, there don’t appear to be many American World War II diaries in print, and even fewer by women. The home front experience is a vital part of the history of any war, and we need this additional voice. Especially because it is such a young voice.
