What books to lend and what to give

In Short

This volume is a practical, annotated bibliography designed for educators, parents, and community leaders in late nineteenth-century England. It provides a structured list of recommended books—ranging from fiction and history to biographies and religious texts—intended for lending libraries, schoolrooms, and home reading. By classifying works by theme and audience, it seeks to replace "specious trash" with literature that fosters character and intelligence. Its enduring value lies in its window into the Victorian pedagogical philosophy, where the act of reading is deeply intertwined with moral and spiritual formation.

The Story

The progression of this work moves from general advice on the habits of readers to an extensive, categorized survey of available books. It begins by addressing the "elder lad" who has left school, arguing that his mind must be preemptively filled with quality literature before he is tempted by trivial newspapers or sensational fiction. The author emphasizes that reading aloud—particularly in Sunday schools or mothers’ meetings—is a vital, transformative tool that allows a mentor to elucidate complex themes and forge personal connections with listeners.

From these foundational principles, the text shifts into its primary function: a systematic catalog of titles. It begins with children’s stories, moving through various genres like adventure tales, historical accounts, and missionary narratives. The author is careful to distinguish between books that encourage healthy imagination and those that foster vanity, such as tales dwelling on fine clothes or the material enjoyments of the wealthy. The narrative of the bibliography itself mirrors the life of a child’s education, starting with simple fables and moving toward more demanding historical and religious inquiries.

As the list unfolds, the author provides brief, critical commentary on each entry. Some books are praised for their "realism" and ability to teach Christian love, while others are noted for their "violent improbabilities" or their tendency to lean toward non-Church perspectives. The arc of the selections is designed to guide a reader from the nursery, through the schoolroom, and into adulthood. It moves from simple stories about lost dogs or dolls to complex, multi-volume histories of the Church and biographies of missionaries.

The closing sections offer a specialized look at "improving books," including poetry and comic recitations that provide lighter relief while remaining within the bounds of "safe" and productive reading. The work concludes not with a final dramatic scene, but with a comprehensive index and a series of publisher advertisements, grounding the entire project in the commercial reality of the Victorian book trade. The journey ends where it began: with the conviction that by carefully selecting what is placed into the hands of the young, one can shape the moral fabric of the next generation.

How It Unfolds

The philosophy of guidance The opening passages establish the necessity of active mentorship in literature, arguing that clergymen and teachers must guide the young toward sound views. The author advocates for reading aloud as a social and intellectual bridge, capable of turning weary hours into moments of instruction.

The dangers of vanity A significant portion of the early text is dedicated to what to avoid, specifically stories that promote social climbing, fine dress, or material indulgence. The author warns that describing beautiful, opulent children in a way that creates envy is a failure of writing that corrupts the reader.

Categorizing the library The middle section functions as a structured guide, organizing hundreds of books by genre and subject matter. This includes sections on desert island adventures, tales of "street Arabs," and historical fiction set in various eras, from the Crusades to the French Revolution.

Historical and religious instruction The latter half of the book shifts toward "improving" works, focusing on history, biography, and scripture. These selections are chosen for their ability to provide the reader with a clear understanding of Church history and moral duty, often favoring works that are academically rigorous yet accessible.

Recitation and reflection The final beats cover poetry and comic recitations, which the author suggests for use in public settings. The guide ends by reinforcing the idea that reading is a lifelong pursuit, provided the selection remains consistent with the principles of character development.

The People

The figures in this text are not characters in a traditional sense, but the archetypes of a nineteenth-century social mission. The Teacher—whether a schoolmaster, clergyman, or lady of the parish—is the central protagonist. This person is characterized by a sense of responsibility and a desire to cultivate the minds of their charges. They are the ones who must discern which books will uplift the "street Arab" or the "elder lad."

The Child is the intended beneficiary, often envisioned in different stages of development. There is the "younger and less clever" child who needs simple, grounded stories, and the "elder lad" who is ready for more challenging material. These children are viewed as malleable, prone to both the influence of "specious trash" and the shaping power of high-quality narrative.

The Authors of the recommended books also populate these pages, appearing as allies in the author’s mission. Writers like Mrs. Ewing or Hesba Stretton are frequently cited for their ability to blend real-life struggles with moral insight. The author treats these writers with a critical eye, often filtering their work through a theological lens. Finally, the Historical Figures—such as the missionaries in Melanesia or the kings and queens of England—are presented as templates for virtue and courage, their lives repurposed as tools for the reader's self-improvement.

In Its Own Voice

The elder lad, whose schooldays are over, sometimes begins to waken to intelligence, and to be ready to seek information, in some cases being glad of really deep reading on scientific, political, or theological subjects, and it is all-important to preoccupy his mind with sound views before he meets with specious trash.

This quote sets the stage for the book’s central argument: that the intellectual life of the youth must be actively managed to protect them from harmful influences.

The enjoyment that authors have in describing a lovely, beautifully-dressed child in a charming attitude should be sacrificed in writing for children of any rank, unless they are to learn vanity and affectation, or else be set to covet such pleasures.

This passage encapsulates the author’s firm stance against literature that encourages materialism and social envy in young readers.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the moral agency of literature. It posits that a book is never merely a source of entertainment, but a powerful, active force that either builds or erodes the character of its reader. The work addresses the tension between the child’s natural desire for adventure and the adult’s responsibility to provide a framework of truth and virtue. It reflects a specific historical anxiety—that without a curated, intentional library, the young would be left vulnerable to the "pomps and vanities" of the world. Ultimately, it is a manifesto for the power of the printed word to act as a surrogate parent, reinforcing the values of faith, duty, and humility.

Why Read It Today

Readers today will find this book a fascinating, if sometimes rigid, time capsule. You will love it if you are interested in the history of education, the evolution of children's literature, or the Victorian social structure. It feels like stepping into a hushed library of a century ago, where every book is treated as a serious decision.

Be prepared for the author’s strong, traditionalist, and deeply religious viewpoint. The book does not shy away from period-specific attitudes; its dismissal of "street Arab" tales as merely "written from fancy" and its strict adherence to Church-centered history may feel restrictive to a modern reader. Furthermore, the sheer length of the bibliography can be daunting, as it functions more as a reference work than a narrative. However, there is a warmth in the author’s genuine concern for the welfare of her readers that shines through the lists. The book stays with you as a testament to a time when people truly believed that the right story could change a child’s life, prompting you to think deeply about what we choose to read—and what we choose to pass on to the next generation—in our own time.