When I Was a Little Girl

In Short

This collection of stories and vignettes serves as a gentle, reflective memoir of childhood. Through the eyes of an imaginative young girl, the book explores the ordinary—picnics, games, and neighborhood relationships—alongside the extraordinary, as fairy tales of kings, fairies, and "deevs" bleed into daily life. It is a meditation on how we perceive the world before adulthood sets in, written with a rhythmic, nostalgic intensity that remains moving for anyone who has ever looked back at the "sealed doors" of their own past with longing and quiet understanding.

The Story

The narrative begins with a contemplative look at the "little girl" who once existed, framing her as a spirit who still resides just beyond the reach of the present. We are introduced to her world—a place of Conant Street, grandmothers, and neighborhood friends. The girl is observant and deeply imaginative, often finding the boundaries between her reality and her fantasies to be porous. She plays games, navigates social hierarchies with her friend Mary Elizabeth, and struggles with the small moral burdens of childhood, such as the weight of a secret transgression involving a forbidden treat.

As the chapters progress, these grounded, domestic experiences are mirrored by allegorical tales. We encounter the Troglodyte and the Prehistoric Woman marking time in the dust, and the Princess Romancia, whose life is shaped by the gifts of fairy visitors. We follow the journey of little Peter, the king’s trumpeter, who finds his voice in a carnival procession only to realize that his message of a "beginning world" has been misinterpreted by the crowd as a call for mere husks. These stories function as internal reflections of the girl’s own development, mapping her movement from a confined childhood into a wider, more complex understanding of the human condition.

The arc culminates in a series of poignant realizations. We see the girl, now referred to as "Littlegirl," wandering into a city park and falling asleep, an act that prompts a search by the adults in her life. This search serves as a catalyst for a moment of profound connection between the child and a "Blue Linen Lady," whose sudden, protective love transforms the girl’s feeling of isolation into a sense of belonging. The book concludes with an image of interconnectedness, suggesting that the "Great Black Hush" of the universe—the vast, mysterious forces of life—is ultimately tempered by small, human acts of grace. The final pages confirm that the child’s perspective, while fleeting, is a fundamental part of the adult experience, a "new world" where those who choose to walk together find that they were never truly alone.

How It Unfolds

The invocation of memory The narrative opens by acknowledging the presence of a past self, a child who still "stirs" when the light or the scent of baking griddle cakes evokes the past. This sets a tone of tender recollection, inviting the reader to bridge the distance between the adult present and the vivid, unburdened sensory world of the girl.

The weaving of myth and play The story shifts between the girl’s daily life and ancient, allegorical fables featuring figures like the Troglodyte. These shifts demonstrate how a child uses myth to make sense of time, chores, and the confusing expectations of the grown-up world.

The struggle for agency A middle section focuses on the girl’s friendship with Mary Elizabeth, highlighting the social exclusions of childhood. The internal conflict—the "fighting going on within"—culminates in a moment of moral choice, where the girl recognizes a "gentle, insistent" inner voice guiding her toward truth.

The journey toward understanding The latter half of the book follows Prince Hazen and the Princess Romancia, figures whose experiences with lost identity and crystal prisons reflect the girl’s own growth. These tales move toward a climax where the distinction between the "fairy" world and the "real" world dissolves into a shared human experience.

The final reconciliation In the closing chapters, the narrative returns to the girl in the park, where she is found by the Blue Linen Lady. The story concludes on a note of quiet epiphany, as the child realizes that she is known and loved, transforming her solitary wandering into a homecoming.

The People

The Little Girl serves as the emotional center of the book. She is characterized by her "over-long hair" and her constant observation of the adult world. Her primary internal struggle is between her desire to conform to the expectations of her family and the pull of her own vivid, often rebellious imagination. By the end, she grows from a child who feels like an outsider to one who discovers a place within the human community.

Mary Elizabeth is the girl’s best friend, a character who embodies the social complexities of their neighborhood. She is defined by her intuition and her habit of seeking guidance from nature, using daisies and thistles to resolve the uncertainties of their play. She remains a steadfast, if sometimes misunderstood, companion who represents the "social condescensions" that the protagonist must eventually navigate.

The Blue Linen Lady appears as a pivotal, transformative figure. Initially representing the distracted, preoccupied adult, she becomes the vessel for the book’s ultimate theme of reconnection. Her realization that she holds responsibility for the child’s well-being marks her transition from a distant authority figure to a source of genuine, nurturing love.

Finally, the Parents and Grandmother represent the "wise-heads" of the child’s world. They are often viewed with a mixture of sympathy and bafflement by the protagonist, serving as the static, often uninteresting reality against which the girl’s vibrant inner life is played out. They represent the "sealed doors" that the girl must pass through as she matures.

In Its Own Voice

“When the sun falls in a particular way, when graham griddle cakes are baking, when the sky laughs sudden blue after a storm, or the town clock points in its clearest you-will-be-late way at nine in the morning, when the moonlight is on the midnight and nothing moves--then, somewhere beyond sealed doors, the little girl says something, and it is plain that she is here all the time.”

The narrator describes the moments when the memories of her younger self suddenly become tangible and present.

“And when he had it all spread on, the Deev stood up and dropped his steel arms down--and even they were tired at the elbow, like any true, egg-beating arm--and he looked down at the great cake he had made.”

The narrator uses the absurdity of a giant "deev" performing domestic work to illustrate the imaginative ways a child processes the world of chores and adult labor.

“And to the Princess Romancia, beside Prince Hesperus, the world itself was a new world, where she did not walk alone as she had thought, but where all folk who will have it so walk together.”

This final sentiment encapsulates the book’s central argument that loneliness is a choice, and that the world is inherently interconnected for those willing to see it.

What It's Really About

The book is an argument for the validity of the child’s inner life as a permanent component of the human soul. It contends that the imaginative play of youth is not merely "naughtiness" or idle distraction, but a profound form of cognitive and emotional labor. The text explores the tension between the structured, often rigid "proper" behavior demanded by society and the expansive, fluid reality perceived by a child. Ultimately, the book posits that the transition to adulthood is not a loss of this inner life, but a process of integrating the "fairy" perspective—the ability to see the world as a place of wonder and connection—into the adult consciousness.

Why Read It Today

This book is a quiet, meditative experience for those who appreciate literary prose that treats childhood as a serious, lyrical subject. It is not a plot-driven novel, but a series of impressions that feel like a dream one has upon waking. Readers who enjoy the whimsical, slightly melancholic style of early 20th-century literature will find its tone familiar and comforting.

However, prospective readers should be aware that the book moves at a languid, often abstract pace. Its reliance on allegorical fairy tales as a parallel to the protagonist's life can be challenging; the shift between the "real" world of Conant Street and the "fairy" world of the Deevs requires a patient, imaginative reader. Furthermore, the period-specific attitudes—particularly regarding domestic roles and class dynamics—are present, though the narrator often views these through a self-aware, sometimes critical, lens. It is best read in small, contemplative bursts. What stays with you is not a single dramatic climax, but the way the author validates the intensity of a child’s joys and sorrows, making the reader feel that, in some small way, they have returned to a place they had long forgotten was still there.