Audiobook Sample
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- Title: Secret Garden
- Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
- Narrator: Josephine Bailey
- Length: 08:00:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 21/07/2008
- Publisher: Tantor Media
- Genre: Kids, Health & Family, Classics
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
The first time I encountered “The Secret Garden”, I was recovering from dengue fever in a bamboo hut in Bali, too weak to hold a book but desperate for stories. A Dutch traveler lent me her iPod with Josephine Bailey’s narration, and as I lay listening with my eyes closed, I was transported not just to Misselthwaite Manor, but to every hidden garden I’d ever discovered in my travels – from the overgrown monastery courtyards of Portugal to the walled medicinal gardens of Oaxaca. That experience taught me how the right narrator can make an audiobook feel like a personal gift, and Bailey’s performance remains one of the most exquisite I’ve encountered in twenty years of literary travel.
Frances Hodgson Burnett’s 1911 classic unfolds like a Persian carpet revealing its intricate patterns slowly – first showing us the spoiled, sallow-faced Mary Lennox who’s as prickly as the desert cacti I’ve encountered in Morocco, then gradually revealing the softness underneath as she discovers the walled garden. What struck me most during this listening experience – my fifth encounter with the story – was how Burnett crafts the garden as both literal place and psychological metaphor. The narration made me notice for the first time how precisely she maps Mary’s emotional thawing to specific gardening tasks: clearing dead wood (facing grief), turning soil (preparing for new growth), and ultimately witnessing blossoms (experiencing joy).
Josephine Bailey’s narration deserves particular praise for how she navigates the story’s emotional landscape. Her Yorkshire accents for Martha, Dickon, and Ben Weatherstaff feel authentic without becoming caricatures – no small feat for American listeners like myself. I’ve spent enough time in Yorkshire tea shops to recognize the musicality she brings to the dialect, reminiscent of the elderly gardener who once showed me the hidden rose tunnels at Harrogate. Bailey’s greatest achievement, though, is her portrayal of Mary’s transformation. She begins with a pinched, nasal tone perfect for the ‘disagreeable-looking child’ of the early chapters, then allows Mary’s voice to gradually warm like honey dissolving in tea as the garden works its magic.
Burnett’s themes of healing through nature resonate profoundly in our screen-saturated era. During lockdown, I found myself listening to this audiobook while tending my fire escape herb garden in Brooklyn, understanding for the first time why the novel has been prescribed as bibliotherapy for depression. There’s alchemy in how Burnett describes the ‘wick’ of life force in Colin that mirrors the green shoots pushing through dark soil – a metaphor made visceral through Bailey’s tender narration of Colin’s first triumphant walk in the garden.
The production quality enhances the experience beautifully. Unlike some classic audiobooks that feel stiffly recorded, this version preserves an intimate storytelling quality. During quiet passages – especially Mary’s first discovery of the robin’s nest – you can almost hear Bailey leaning forward, creating the same hushed anticipation I remember from those Oaxacan storytelling nights. The subtle bird songs woven into garden scenes never overwhelm the narration, unlike some overproduced audiobooks I’ve reviewed.
If I have one critique, it’s that modern listeners might initially find the pacing slower than contemporary children’s literature. But this becomes a virtue – the gradual unfolding mirrors the garden’s seasonal rhythms. By the time Dickon appears with his menagerie of animal friends, you’re fully immersed in Burnett’s world, as enveloping as the jasmine-scented courtyards of Andalusia.
Compared to other narrations (I’ve sampled three), Bailey’s stands out for its emotional intelligence. Where some narrators play Mary as purely petulant, Bailey finds the vulnerability beneath – the frightened orphan who uses sourness as armor. Her handling of the mystical elements (particularly Colin’s ‘magic’ incantations) strikes the perfect balance between childlike wonder and Burnett’s subtle Christian Science influences.
For travelers like myself, the book offers unexpected geographical wisdom. Burnett’s description of Mary’s journey from ‘India full of heat and natives’ to the moors contains more cultural commentary than I recalled – particularly in how Mary initially dismisses Yorkshire’s raw beauty, much as I once arrogantly dismissed the Scottish Highlands before they captured my soul. The audiobook made me appreciate how Burnett uses landscape as character in ways that would later influence writers like Tolkien.
This audiobook particularly shines for family listening. On a rainy afternoon in Reykjavik last year, I played it for my goddaughter (a city child like Mary) and watched her face change as the story progressed – proof that Bailey’s narration bridges generations. The scenes with Dickon and his animals prompted her first serious conversation about wildlife conservation, making me appreciate how Burnett smuggles ecological awareness into what seems like simple children’s literature.
As someone who’s documented oral storytelling traditions from Marrakech to Kyoto, I can attest that Bailey’s performance honors that ancient art. Her pacing during key revelations – like Mary finding the hidden key – creates the same breathless anticipation as the best campfire tales. There’s wisdom in how she handles Burnett’s moral messages too, never preaching but letting the story’s emotional truth emerge naturally, like crocuses through snow.
May your own secret gardens – both literal and metaphorical – flourish with listening, Marcus
Marcus Rivera
