The Adventures of Mary Darling by Pat Murphy

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I have just finished reading Pat Murphy's new novel, The Adventures of Mary Darling. It is a romp. Or, rather, it is two romps, one at the beginning and the other at the end. In the middle is a thick slab of the cruelties of the Victorian era. All carefully garnished to make a romp-and-misery sandwich.

In brief, when Peter Pan comes to Kensington, London, to steal away Wendy and her brothers, her mother, Mary Darling, determines to rescue them. In her youth, she too had been stolen away by Peter Pan and she knew what a wretched, hungry, and often fatal existence the Lost Boys endured. Her uncle, John Watson, gets involved and brings along the celebrated detective, Sherlock Holmes. Who is, fair warning (see below), held up for scorn for his quintessentially male habit of explaining everything to those who already know more than he does. 

Ms. Darling, as it turns out, learned swordplay and derring-do in the course of her escape from Neverland. Thus, the romp.

Near novel's end, when Mary is restored home, her brother gives a cleaned-up, fairy-free version of their adventures based on boys' fiction of the time. And Murphy writes:

Over time, Mary came to realize that the good people of Cooktown believed Tom because they wanted to believe him. There was a reason that adventure novels were popular. They told the stories that people wanted to believe--tales of terrifying savages and bold British explorers. People wanted to believe that plucky children could stand up to pirates and survive. They wanted to think that a British pirate captain like Captain Scratch would send the children home.

All true, of course. But the text, as narrated by Wendy's daughter Jane, is our current version of Victorian wish fulfillment pulp. Today, what we want to believe is that a woman of character can face down pirates and scoundrels of all kinds and find sisterly support from networks of capable women everywhere. It is no more untrue than the boy's fiction of a century and a half ago. And as needed now as those tales were back when.

And a word of warning . . . 

Because TAoMD is about men controlling the narrative and the need for women to subvert that and to create alternative support groups, men come in for their share of lumps. The primary punching bag here is Sherlock Holmes. Which I thought was just a frazz unkind but he can take it. Dr. Watson, however--who as portrayed as an honorable, kindly, and supportive man, a Mensch in every way, also comes in for his share of criticism and, while I understand why his virtues shouldn't render him exempt from criticism, that's a little harder to accept.

I enjoyed the book despite this. But you know yourself best. If this is going to bother you... Well, you've been warned.

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