Reviews for What Maisie Knew

The average rating for What Maisie Knew based on 2 reviews is 4 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2017-02-20 00:00:00 Siu Mei Louie * A wise old child lived among strange folk The more she saw, the less she spoke, The less she spoke, the more she cried, What's to become of that wise old child? ** Maisie, Maisie, sharp yet hazy, How does your garden grow? With jam suppers and boiled beef, And pretty ladies all in a row. *** There was a fine lady who had a girl child. She had so many lovers, she didn't hear when she cried. She gave her some broth without any bread, Then whipped her right soundly and sent her to bed. **** Hush-a-bye Maisie, on the house top When the storm blows, the timbers will rock When the glass breaks, the nurs'ry will fall And down will fall Maisie, nursemaid and all. ***** To father's, to father's, to see a fat pig, Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. To mother's, to mother's, to see a fat hog, Home again, home again, jiggety-jog. ****** Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful of wry, Four and twenty lovers stewing in a pie. When the pie is opened the lovers all are spied, Isn't that a dainty dish to set before a child. Father's in the gaming house, losing all his money, Mother's in the parlour, feeding men with honey, Maisie's in the garden, trying not to say a word, When down swoops a lover and scoops her off abroad. ******* This is the story that James built. This is the trap that lay in the story that James built. This is the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. This is the cat that chased the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. This is the dog that worried the cat, That chased the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. This is the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog that worried the cat, That chased the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. This is the maiden all forlorn, That loved the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog that worried the cat, That chased the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. This is the man all shiny and shorn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That loved the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog that worried the cat, That chased the rat that sprung the trap, That lay in the story that James built. ....………………………………………………… Loveless marriage is the trap, the father is the the rat, the mother, the cat, the step-mother, the dog, the governess with the crumpled hat, the cow: their constant chasing and harrying of each other will force me to quit this book at the half-way mark unless the shiny step-father who kissed the maiden all forlorn carries through on his many promises soonish... ……………….………………………… Edit twenty-four hours later: I decided to read on...and the only thing of note is that Maisie has found a sixpence! Sixpences really for the forty-eight hours that followed seemed to abound in her life.. ………………………………………… Further edit: The shiny step-father left, the step-mother arrived, then the step-father returned and the governess is about to leave again. Here we go around the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, Here we go round the mulberry bush, on a sad and miserable morning. What hope for the little maiden all forlorn.. ………………………………………… Later edit: maybe some hope: Maisie put the kettle on, Maisie put the kettle on, Maisie put the kettle on, We'll all have tea... ………………………… …………… 22/02/2017 Maisie take it off again, Maisie take it off again, Maisie take it off again, They've all gone away! ……………………………………… Rub, adub, dub, Two left in the tub, And who do you think they be? One cow with a crumpled horn, One maiden all forlorn, And both of them gone to sea.

Review # 2 was written on 2007-09-27 00:00:00 Nathan Limeburner Well, I told myself to review more of my 5 star books instead of taking the easy way out projectile sneering at some grisly two star efforts. but it's hard. There are some brilliant Henry James reviews dotted around, and this won't be one of those. I think there's a point in some of these long, long literary careers (it's true of long musical careers too) where you've followed the writer out of the early period into the majestic middle period and you know the late period is going to give you a migraine, and there are a couple of books in the middle period in which everything comes right, the focus, the point of it all (what's he actually on about? Ah yes, I see!!) and for me What Maisie Knew is HJ gambolling and turning handsprings and summersets in the brilliant July sunshine before the dementia of subjunctive clausitis set in for good and they took him away and you could only see him on Tuesday afternoons and then only if you didn't speak. So sad. Give the old fellow a bun and some typewriter ribbon. HJ had this filtered-point-of-view thing, he banged on about that for his entire career, and here he filters viciousness through innocence, Maisie's rebarbative parents and their sophisticated internecine wars conducted through the medium of their little daughter's hapless life. It's brilliantly upsetting, much more so than any number of Dickens' pathetic put-upon Little Dorrits and Little Olivers and Little Miss Dombeys. Not to badmouth Dickens, you can't, it's actually illegal, but you don't go to CD for psychological finesse, you come to Henry James. In my humble opinion you can stuff your Portrait of a Lady, that one's an unaccountably popular turkey. What Maisie Knew is second only to The Turn of the Screw in the HJ all time Top Ten, and that's just the simple truth.