The Railway Children

I read this book first as a child; when I saw it available from Kindle now, when I am almost 70, I remembered nothing except that I had liked it. So--I got it. I am glad I did, because I promptly then took a serious fall and ended up in the hospital, with a crushed knee, wanting to read something gentle and simple, not my usual fare. I found "The Railway Children" on my KIndle, and began to lose myself in it. It has enough plot to keep you going (What happened to the children's father? Why is the family suddenly living in straitened circumstances? Will they return to their earlier high-class life?), but the plot is not the point; not at all. You are drawn to the believable simplicity of these innocent children--two sisters and a brother, all with "boys' names" and all living adventures their times and cultures might have restricted to boys. They have moved to live near the railway with their mother, who writes both serious things (that you suspect have something to do with their missing father), and children's poems and stories. Instead of focusing on the gracious life they must have lost, they look for the adventures and beauties of their new world. The first of many "life lessons" the book teaches. There are more, and each child approaches the elements of their new lives in his or her own special way. Bobbie is the more reflective and perceptive of the three, and it is often through her eyes that we watch other people and events. We see the children dare to make friends even with people who start out gruffly rejecting them--we see embodied the Buddha's teaching "Not by hatred does hatred cease, but by love hatred ceases." Not that the book is using such language or pretending to be an apology for any particular religious or spiritual culture. It is simply showing what happens when these innocent children consistently choose honesty, trust, generosity and love over the ways most of us are accustomed to choose. Does this mean the book becomes a mere vehicle for obvious preachments? I think not; it would have irritated me if it had! No, it simply, over and over, through showing how the children interact with each other, other people, and situations, shows us the benefits of living by the "good old fashioned values". We keep feeling fresh and innocent ourselves, and cheering the children on in their efforts to solve mysteries and make good things happen. We end up relishing such innocence for ourselves. I was sorry when the book ended, because I knew I'd now go back to the thrillers and political intrigue stories I tend to read; they would interest me, educate me, and in some way dismay me. I'd escape their impact saying "This is only fiction anyhow." But I didn't want to escape the impact of "The Railway Children", and I hope very sincerely that this book is NOT "only fiction anyhow".

— And something wonderful did happen exactly four days after she had said this. I wish I could say it was three days after, because in fairy tales it is always three days after that things happen. But this is not a fairy story, and besides, it really was four and not three, and I am nothing if not strictly truthful. Edith Nesbit had her tongue well in her cheek, of course, as she came to the end of her children's classic, published 110 years ago in 1906. After all, this story of three children forced into sudden poverty with their mother when their father is arrested has its full share of romance: the children thrive in their new environment next to a railway cutting, they make friends everywhere they go, and by a wonderful coincidence one of these friends turns out to be exactly the person who can help them. And yet, the enduring strength of the book has less to do with its romance than its truth. This is a real family, under real conditions, talking as people really talked—a far cry from the magical time-travel of THE STORY OF THE AMULET which preceded it. Though equally fascinated by steam trains, I did not read the book as a child. I ordered it now as a footnote to Helen Dunmore's recent novel EXPOSURE, which takes THE RAILWAY CHILDREN as its narrative frame—something I naturally didn't know until it was pointed out by friends. Dunmore's focus is primarily on why the father was arrested; with Nesbit, this is simply a fact that the reader must conjecture in the opening pages; it is not until quite close to the end that we hear any details (and discover that the case is very close to Dunmore's). But I think she is right to say nothing up front; it reproduces exactly the child's feeling of being carted off to new places and situations without understanding the adult reason behind it. It also gives a clear foundation for their resilience: their task is simply to help their mother get the new cottage in order, take chores off her hands, and make the most of their new environment. The three children are Roberta (12), Peter (10), and Phyllis (8). But the author explains on page 30: — I am tired of calling Roberta by her name. I don't see why I should. No one else did. Everyone else called her Bobbie, and I don't see why I shouldn't. So we get to know them by boys' names: Bobbie, Peter, and Phil. This matches the children's active independence, yet Nesbit does not turn the girls into tomboys; her gender balance is carefully thought out, and breaks the usual pattern of an elder boy leading the girls. Peter is there for physical strength and mechanical ingenuity, but Roberta is the one with the most responsibility, the one closest to her mother, the thinker, and in many ways the protagonist of the book. It is she who suggests that they get up early on their first morning, light the fire, lay the table, and put the kettle on for breakfast. After which, they go outside, discover the railway, and lose track of time: — They had made an excellent fire, and had set the kettle on it at about half past five. So that by eight the fire had been out for some time, the water had all boiled away, and the bottom was burned out of the kettle. Also they had not thought of washing the crockery before they set the table. But their mother is nothing if not resilient too, and soon the children are off to visit the little rural station and make the first of their many friends. Even here, Nesbit values truth. Very few of the adults who come to help them fall in love with their cuteness at first sight; the children make mistakes and have to work on repairing them. Peter makes friends with the Station Master only after he has been caught "mining" coal from the heap outside the station and has duly apologized. Perks, the porter who tells them so much about trains, is as easily offended as befriended, and the children risk upsetting him when they plan something nice for his birthday. The bargee whom they encounter on the nearby canal behaves like an aggressive bully, and it is only when they help him in an unexpected crisis that they see his good side. I was also struck by the fact that while the book is naturally full of adventures, they are mostly of a small and believable kind. The biggest of them, when they save a train from crashing, is not saved for some grand climax, as another author might do, but placed before the half-way point in the book. It is the simplicity and naturalness of the book that makes it great—not its romance but its truth. In reviewing THE STORY OF THE AMULET, I pointed out Nesbit's occasion tendency to insert herself into the story as a moralist, generally to advance her socialist beliefs. There is much less of that here. A Russian emigré who shows up in the village turns out to be a celebrated leftist writer, but little else is made of it. There is one slightly awkward scene where the local doctor tell Peter how to treat girls, but in general the life-lessons are introduced subtly in the everyday course of events; this is indeed an improving book to read, but the kids will never know it! Of course, Nesbit does introduce herself frequently into the action as author, with charming effect as in my first two quotations above. The mother who spends her days writing stories for sale while the children roam free in the countryside is Nesbit herself, who passed through some hard times of her own. Which leads to a delightful example of what we would now call meta-fiction: — "I say," said Peter, musingly, "wouldn't it be jolly if we all were in a book and you were writing it? Then you could make all sorts of jolly things happen, and make Jim's legs get well at once and be all right tomorrow, and Father come home soon and — " Little does Peter know, they are already in a book, and their mother is indeed making all sorts of jolly things happen. But she is not doing it the easy way. And that is what makes this more than a footnote to a later novel, more than a charming period piece, but a true classic, as satisfying now as in the year it was written.

I have never read a book by E. Nesting. The title caught my attention. Being a grandmother, I am always looking for good stories for my grandchildren. This one is a gem. Today's books seem to be lacking the reality of misfortune and hard times that often come to us in life. I love the way this story teaches values, morals, graciousness, forgiveness, hard work, determination, gratitude, selfless love and understanding of other's feelings, Faith in God and the desire to always do what is right. There are some places in the rewriting of this book for e-readers that make it difficult to read. Should have been edited for mistakes. However, I am giving it a 5 star rating because it is such a great story for children.

This story relates the overcoming of financial struggles, loneliness, shame and grief a young family endures when the Father is falsely accused and sent to prison. After settling in a small town, the mother and children share believeable adventures with the townspeople that test and grow their character, and coincidently help ours, along the way. This is a great book to read if you are going through hard times and need an uplifting mindset.

A story that dives straight into the action. Great for kids! Book was delivered a day after the order was placed.

I neither remember reading this as a child, nor do I remember seeing the TV or film adaptations, though the story was extremely familiar – and, as I have a clear image of Jenny Agutter seeing her missing father, and wringing the withers of the viewer with a line which is in the book, causing the image to surface, as I read, I can only assume I did read, did see, or both I came to this reading belatedly on the back of a marvellous book for adults, covering a similar territory – Helen Dunmore’s Exposure. That book clearly references this one – 3 children, 2 girls and a boy, a father working within Government, a secret disgrace, manipulated, innocence wronged, and trains an integral background, Dunmore’s book was set in the early 60’s, and this one by Nesbit in 1905. Obviously Nesbit was writing for children, and it is the three children in this one who occupy centre stage – they are the catalysts for all events – whereas Dunmore was most focused on the husband and wife, but, still, what struck me was an optimistic innocence in the Nesbit. This is, in the end a feel-good book. There isn’t an unpleasant character within it – and even ones which might seem, on first meeting them, to be aggressive and unpleasant – like a bargee, are only waiting to have events transpire which reveal their humanity. Though this does not have the goody goody children of much ‘improving’ fare for Victorian children – Nesbit had, after all, a rather complex, progressive character – she was a co-founder of the Fabian Society, did not marry her first husband till she was seven months pregnant, and ended up adopting the two children he had with his mistress – Nesbit’s good friend – there is a strong moral sense that everyone can be, and wants to be, ethical. The three children argue and fight, and struggle to swallow their pride and apologise. They sometimes do wrong things – steal coal, because they are cold and poor, but are lucky enough to find that acknowledging their wrongdoing leads to kindly forgiveness. Lots of opportunities for heroics present themselves, and the children prevent a railway crash, rescue someone with a broken leg in a train tunnel, save a baby from burning, and unite a community. The book is a remarkably uplifting and moral one – but it is not the morality of ‘know your place’ or pious god-fearing, but can clearly be connected to Nesbit’s political consciousness. I was also struck by the ‘reality’ of the book – this was not a book set in a fantasy world, but one set ‘in reality’. The children are children of a middle-class family but for reasons which we learn as the book progresses (I suspect adults would immediately leap to the correct conclusions) the family have fallen on hard times, and it is the mother who has to earn money to put food on the table. The children and their mother struggle over their ‘hard times’ – but they get through by supporting each other. Even the youngest child contributes. If there is ‘unreality’ it is only because (or is that just my cynicism) not everyone so clearly chooses to be progressive, enlightened and morally working for the common good as Nesbit’s characters all do. “I think everyone in the world is friends if you can only get them to see you don’t want to be UN-friends” “Perhaps you’re right,” said Mother, and she sighed It is, of course ‘only’ a book : one I enjoyed immensely, one with a lot of engaging humour, one very well constructed, one full of hope and positivity – but I kept thinking that Peter, the young boy, brave and sometimes impetuous, ‘in real’ would have no doubt become trench fodder in 1914 : I was very aware, reading this, that it came out of a sense of progressive hopefulness that events of 1914-1918 rather destroyed, and I suspect this book could not have been written 10 years later

Back in June 2016, I worked with Chaperhouse Theatre Company in Lincoln, UK, and I was given the opportunity to see a dress rehearsal of the adaptation of the novel by BBC writer and playwright Laura Turner, right before the actors started their tour of UK and Ireland. I was absolutely stunned by the adventures of the Railway Children. It is not only for children. I'm 23 and identify with the eldest child. The words are simple and have a powerful meaning. I study English literature and translation in France and, to be honest, I love this novel. It is filled with hope, friendship and love. Everyone should read it.

Amei a leitura, um clássico que vale a pena. Ótima leitura para toda a família, ele transmite incríveis lições a serem aprendidas.

Good book