Yes, that Julie Andrews, the one who starred in the two most important movies of my childhood: Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. She also writes children’s books. Surprising, I know. (But close your mouth, please, Michael. We are not a codfish.) I own The Julie Andrews Edwards Treasury, which combines two of her books: Mandy and The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles.
Mandy is a decent read: an orphan girl finds a little abandoned cottage and spends a year making it her own: mainly this involves a lot of gardening and fairly engaging descriptions of nature and hard work. And then of course love and happiness ensue, as in all the great orphan child fiction. It combines the outdoorsy details of The Secret Garden with the child-sized coziness of The Little Princess. It’s not totally supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but it’s a little bit supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles, the other book in this collection, combines a truly awesome and exciting title with a strangely boring story that I will never read again. I remember hating it the first time and after a few pages this time I just closed it up. Never has such a great title disappointed me so much.
Still, I would hang onto this volume even if I hated the whole thing out of respect for the actress who gave me so many happy hours as a child. Here’s to Julie Andrews Edwards: one of my favorite things. (I also enjoy whiskers on kittens and bright copper kettles.)