Peter Pan (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by J. M. Barrie

George Frampton’s Peter Pan Statue

  Peter Pan has a real place in the national landscape of Britain. Nothing demonstrates the truth of this statement better than the statue of Peter Pan in London’s Kensington Gardens; it was unveiled on May 1, 1912, near the spot where, in The Little White Bird, Peter disembarks from the boat fashioned from a thrush’s nest. Sculptor Sir George Frampton designed the likeness after the real-life Michael Llewelyn Davies. The sculpture shows a stern, pixyish Peter playing the pipes. Bunny rabbits, squirrels, and fairies talk to one another as they climb the ornately carved pedestal on which the sprightly hero stands.

  In May 1928, an identical statue was installed in Liverpool’s Sefton Park, and a 19-inch miniature version is on display in the Tate Gallery in London. A well-known symbolist sculptor, Frampton also designed a monument to Queen Victoria at Leeds, a Boer War memorial in Manchester, and architectural sculptures spanning the entrance to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

  The Wendy Craze

  The charming eldest Darling child inspired scores of parents to use the name Wendy for their daughters. “Wendy” was inspired by a young friend of Barrie, Margaret Henley, who died at age five and a half. Unable to pronounce the letter “r,” she used an endearment, “friendy,” which sounded to Barrie like “fwendy.” Saddened by the death of the child, Barrie immortalized her in his famous character. Though the name—which is related to the Welsh name Gwendydd (pronounced Gwen-deeth)—is recorded in census data (for both boys and girls) before Barrie used it, it appears only rarely. Following the production of Barrie’s play and the publication of the novel, there was an explosion in the number of children named Wendy in Britain and America. The fad took hold in the 1920s and reached its peak during the 1960s and 1970s, when the Mary Martin musical was broadcast several times on television.

  Other Novelists

  A handful of authors have tried to assume the Barrie mantle. One of them, Gilbert Adair, is also the author of literary tributes to Thomas Mann, Lewis Carroll, and Alfred Hitchcock. His Peter Pan and the Only Children (1987), illustrated by Jenny Thorne, has Peter Pan trading his Neverland residence for one under the sea and finding new members for the Lost Boys among the children who tumble from ships overhead. J. Emily Somma’s After the Rain: A New Adventure for Peter Pan (2002), illustrated by Kyle Reed, depicts an emotionally hurt Peter who feels ignored in modern times. To get even with the children who have forgotten him, Peter wishes for the world to lose its magic. In so doing he unleashes the evil Keeper, who kidnaps Tinker Bell and sends a band of soldiers to abduct Peter. With the help of three children who still believe in magic, Peter attempts to save his loyal friend while remaining free himself.

  Laurie Fox’s The Lost Girls (2004) traces the lives of five generations of Darling women visited by Peter Pan, beginning with the original Wendy. The main character, Wendy Darling Braverman, is the great-granddaughter of the first Wendy Throughout her childhood she hears of the curse of insanity that befalls each adolescent Darling girl after a visit from Peter Pan. After her own visit, Wendy returns and marries Freeman, a man who himself avoids the trappings of adult employment and retains the mind and heart of a young boy. When it comes time for Wendy’s daughter, Berry, to visit Neverland, Wendy must face difficult questions regarding motherhood, independence, self-realization, and destiny.

  COMMENTS & QUESTIONS

  In this section, we aim to provide the reader with an array of perspectives on the text, as well as questions that challenge those perspectives. The commentary has been culled from sources as diverse as reviews contemporaneous with the work, letters written by the author, literary criticism of later generations, and appreciations written throughout the work’s history. Following the commentary, a series of questions seeks to filter J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan through a variety of points of view and bring about a richer understanding of this enduring work.

  Comments

  MAX BEERBOHM

  “Peter Pan; or,” adds Mr. Barrie, “The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up.” And he himself is that boy. That child, rather; for he halted earlier than most of the men who never come to maturity—halted before the age of soldiers and steam-engines begin to dominate the soul. To remain, like Mr. Kipling, a boy, is not at all uncommon. But I know not anyone who remains, like Mr. Barrie, a child. It is this unparalleled achievement that informs so much of Mr. Barrie’s later work, making it unique. This, too, surely, it is that makes Mr. Barrie the most fashionable playwright of his time.

  Undoubtedly, “Peter Pan” is the best thing he has done—the thing most directly from within himself Here, at last, we see his talent in its full maturity; for here he has stripped off from himself the last flimsy remnants of a pretence to maturity. Time was when a tiny pair of trousers peeped from under his “short-coats,” and his sunny curls were parted and plastered down, and he jauntily affected the absence of a lisp, and spelt out the novels of Mr. Meredith and said he liked them very much, and even used a pipe for another purpose than that of blowing soap-bubbles. But all this while, bless his little heart, he was suffering. It would have been pleasant enough to play at being grown-up among children of his own age. It was a fearful strain to play at being grown-up among grown-up persons. But he was forced to do this, because the managers of theaters, and the publishers of books, would have been utterly dumbfounded if he had asked them to take him as he was. The public, for all its child-worship, was not yet ripe for things not written ostensibly for adults. The managers, the publishers, the public, had to be educated gradually. A stray curl or two, now and again, an infrequent soap-bubble between the fumes—that was as much as could be adventured just at first. Time passed, and mankind was lured, little by little, to the point when it could fondly accept Mr. Barrie on his own terms. The tiny trousers were slipped off, and under the toy-heap were thrust the works of Mr. Meredith. And everyone sat around, nodding and smiling to one another rather fatuously, and blessing the little heart of Mr. Barrie. All was not yet well, though—not perfectly well. By force of habit, the child occasionally gave itself the airs of an adult. There were such moments even in “Little Mary.” Now, at last, we see at the Duke of York’s Theater Mr. Barrie in his quiddity undiluted—the child in a state of nature, unabashed—the child, as it were, in its bath, splashing, and crowing as it splashes....

  For me to describe to you now in black and white the happenings in “Peter Pan” would be a thankless task. One cannot communicate the magic of a dream. People who insist on telling their dreams are among the terrors of the breakfast table. You must go to the Duke of York’s, there to dream the dream for yourselves.

  • from Saturday Review ( January 7, 1905)

  THE SPECTATOR

  We are very grateful to Mr. J. M. Barrie for bringing Peter to closer quarters. We have known and loved him, many of us, across the footlights, but here we have him under our very eyes. It is not so much for the children among Peter’s admirers that this is done. They, we feel sure, were more than content with what they had. But the “grown-ups” will welcome Mr. Barrie, and Mr. Barrie is at his best interpreting the “Never, Never Land” to them, telling them some more not only about the inhabitants of that delectable region but about Mr. and Mrs. Darling. Who will not rejoice to hear of the latter that her mind “was like tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East: however many you discover there is always one more?” As to Mr. Darling, we were never quite sure that Mr. Barrie was fair to him, and we are still in doubt. He behaves very handsomely in the last chapter, but then he is not permitted to have even known of the innermost box in Mrs. Darling’s mind. On the whole we think that Mr. Barrie’s attitude to him and fathers in general is that they are a necessary but unimportant part of creation. Then there is the inevitable end. Wendy grows up. Peter, for whom time does not exist, forgets to come for several years, and then, never dreaming of change, returns to find a different Wendy. Mr. Barrie knows how to do these things, but he has never done better than this—Peter sobbing on
the nursery floor and Wendy, who has forgotten how to comfort him. Of course we are not left with this tragedy. Jane, Wendy’s daughter, is to take her place, and so on, while children are “gay and innocent and heartless.” Perhaps we feel that there could never again be quite such another as Wendy, but we are conscious that this would certainly not be Peter’s point of view.

  —November 10, 1911

  THE ATHENÆUM

  ‘Peter Pan’ has become for the latest generation what Alice in Wonderland’ was for a former. The foundations of Lewis Carroll’s book were laid so deep that not even a generation and a half have prevailed to assail them. Elderly people still repeat tags from Alice,’ which has passed into the traditions of the language. Will ‘Peter Pan’ do so? If the theme had remained embodied and embedded in the play, we should have had doubts. It is probable that the yearly expositions of Peter and Wendy and the pirates and the Neverland would have insensibly declined into exhibitions at rarer intervals, and that in time we should have had revivals on the same plan, and with the same relative frequency, as those of, say, ‘Our Boys,’ ‘Caste,’ and ‘The School for Scandal.’ But the translation of the fantasy into fiction has made a difference, and has more or less brought ‘Peter Pan’ into the competitive plane with Alice.’ There could hardly, we must say at once, be a greater contrast of inventive and imaginative equipment. Mr. Barrie’s ingenuity is as great as Lewis Carroll’s, but it is exercised in another milieu. His notion of humour is as sharp, but less straightforward; it delights in oddities, in out-of-the-way corners, in surprises, and, it must be confessed, in sentimentalities. We experience rather a shock at the constant alternations of farce and sentiment; we are no sooner attuned to the one than the other trips it up. This is one of Mr. Barrie’s methods of versatility. Some of the most delicious humour is found side by side with a rather overstrained interpretation of child-life. It is all a curious medley, but the rendering is deft and fresh beyond belief. The author’s interest seems to have remained intact, as integral and sincere as that of his audience. Read, for example, the fight with the pirates, and consider if it could be improved in any way, or the conversations in the nursery, or the adventure in the lagoon. Children will enjoy this book as much as they did the play, and it will survive even the play.

  —November 11, 1911

  GRACE ISABEL COLBRON

  Peter Pan has come to us again, Peter Pan, who was neither all a boy nor all a fairy, but something of both. He comes to us in a book which is neither a boy’s book, nor a girl’s book, nor a fairy book, nor anything but just a book which is a delight for everybody. And now that we meet him in Barrie’s charming story, Peter and Wendy, we realise that this dainty conceit is too fairy-like to stand the necessary artificiality of the stage, too frail not to be harmed by impersonating in human shape.

  The slow unfolding of the tale possible in a book, the myriad delicious details that had to be sacrificed to drama needs, surround our old friends Peter, Wendy, John, Michael, Nana the faithful nurse, the Lost Boys, the terrible Hook, the fair Tiger Lily and her Redskins, sentimental Smee, with a setting which brings them nearer to us, makes them the more human because no other human personality comes between them and us. What delight to have them in such shape that we can slip them all under the pillow at night and take them out the first thing in the morning for a stolen chat! And so many lovely new things to learn about them. Did we ever know before that Peter’s greatest charm, the one which won him the hearts of all women creatures young or old, was that he had all his first teeth? And of Mrs. Darling, who walks through a few scenes in the play, a meaningless lay figure, we hear that she is in reality a lovely lady with a romantic mind and sweet mocking mouth.

  —from The Bookman (December 1911)

  Questions

  1. In literature, realism is not everything. Consider the continuous popularity of Peter Pan from its first appearance to the present. Some deviations from realism are simply the result of bad writing; others are intentional and make a point, have meaning. What are some meaningful deviations from realism in Peter Pan? What meaning does flying have, for instance?

  2. What is satisfying about the fantasy of a boy who never grows up? Does this conceit tap into something deep within all of us?

  3. Is Peter Pan just for boys, or could girls enjoy it too? What is there in this tale for a girl to identify with? What is there to awaken a girl’s imagination?

  4. How would the ways in which a child and an adult experience Peter Pan differ? Can a child understand the longing for childhood in the novel as much as an adult? Can an adult sympathize with Peter’s inability to grow up?

  5. Critics often speak of a dark substratum in Peter Pan. Do you see it or feel it? If it’s there, what is its source? Might incidents in Barrie’s life have had something to do with it?

  FOR FURTHER READING

  Barrie’s Other Versions of the Novel Peter Pan

  The Little White Bird. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1902. Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1906.

  Peter and Wendy. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1911.

  Biography

  Chalmers, Patrick. The Barrie Inspiration. London: Peter Davies, 1938.

  Darlington, W. A. J. M Barrie. 1938. New York: Haskell House, 1974.

  Darton, F J. Harvey. J M. Barrie. 1929. New York: Haskell House, 1974.

  Mackail, Denis. The Story of J. M. B. London: Peter Davies, 1941.

  J. M. Barrie and the Theater

  Jack, R. D. S. The Road to the Never Land: A Reassessment of J. M. Barrie’s Dramatic Art. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press, 1991.

  Walbrook, H. M. J. M. Barrie and the Theatre. 1922. Port Washington, NY: Kennikat Press, 1969.

  Criticism

  Green, Roger Lancelyn. Fifty Years of Peter Pan. London: Peter Davies, 1954.

  Hanson, Bruce K. The Peter Pan Chronicles: The Nearly 100-Year History of the “Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. ”Secaucus, NJ: Carol, 1993.

  Rose, Jacqueline. The Case of Peter Pan; or, The Impossibility of Children’s Fiction. London: Macmillan, 1984.

  Wullschläger, Jackie. Inventing Wonderland.- The Lives and Fantasies of Lewis Carroll, Edward Lear, J. M. Barrie, Kenneth Grahame and A. A. Milne. New York: Free Press, 1995.

  Other Works Cited in the Introduction

  Barrie, J. M. Margaret Ogilvy. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896.

  ————. Peter Pan and Other Plays. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Edited and with an introduction by Peter Hollindale. Contains The Admirable Crichton, Peter Pan, When Wendy Grew Up, What Every Woman Knows, and Mary Rose.

  Birkin, Andrew. 1979. J. M. Barrie and the Lost Boys. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 2003.

  Dunbar, Janet. J. M. Barrie: The Man Behind the Image. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1970.

  Geduld, Harry M. Sir James Barrie. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1971.

  Green, Roger Lancelyn. J. M. Barrie. New York: Henry Z. Walck, 1961.

  Robbins, Phyllis. Maude Adams: An Intimate Portrait. New York: Putnam, 1956.

  a Totaling up the bills.

  b Contagious disease characterized by fever, sore throat, and puffy cheeks; it mainly affects children.

  c Contagious disease usually affecting children; characterized by eruption of red spots on the skin, fever, and inflammation of the air passages of the head and throat.

  d Also known as rubella. Starts with a mild fever and swollen lymph nodes; a day or two later, a rash appears on the face and spreads downward.

  e A guinea was one pound and one shilling, so “half a guinea” was ten shillings and sixpence.

  f Symptoms include runny nose, fever, and a cough that ends in a “whooping” sound; exhausting coughing spells make it most lethal to babies.

  g Strollers or baby carriages.

  h Any of several plants of the genus Rheum that have large leaves with thick, succulent stalks. Victorians used the powdered root as a laxative.

  i Long s
eats or benches (chiefly British).

  j Sleeveless garment, worn over other clothing as an apron or a dress. ‡Liza looks like a young child, even though she swore when she was hired that she was would never see ten [years old] again.

  k Boats with a trim, streamlined appearance, signifying speed.

  l The area of deep sea that can be seen from the shore.

  m Dwarf like, ageless creatures who live underground and guard treasure.

  n Putting on suspenders.

  o Technique doctors used to get patients to open their mouths wide.

  p Native American dwelling place, made with an arched framework of poles covered with bark, hides, or rush mats.

  q Used in Britain for millennia, coracles are small boats consisting of a wicker frame covered with a hide or tarp.

  r Peter’s baby teeth—small, white, and evenly shaped, like pearls.

  s Totaling the price of heavy winter overcoats needed for John and Michael.

  t My fault, my fault (Latin).

  u Coins made of thin or poor-quality metals; the punch that creates the design on one side leaves marks visible from the other.

  v British expression for “coward.”

  w Disturbance in the sky.

  x Having a plump or well-rounded figure.