I am very excited to share my conversation with Elisabeth Galvin about her upcoming biography of P. L. Travers, the creator of Mary Poppins. This time, our conversation takes place in video form, a medium I avoided for a long time but have now come to accept as one I need to embrace.
In this interview, which I am sharing below, Elisabeth and I explore what first drew her to Travers, her research process, and the unexpected material she uncovered while tracing the life of a writer who has fascinated readers for generations.
We also talk about the people she met along the way who knew Travers personally, and how their memories and stories brought new texture and meaning to this biography. Travers’s complexity is portrayed in a gentle and respectful way, as Elisabeth is keenly aware of the responsibility that comes with writing a biography and of the difficulty of portraying with care and honesty a person one has never met. Elisabeth’s writing is also deeply atmospheric, carrying the reader through an almost visual experience of time and place. It is a delightful read, and I sincerely hope this book finds its way into the hands of many readers.
There is an additional reason for my excitement. I had the honor of writing the introduction to this biography, as well as an entire chapter on Travers’s spiritual beliefs, a subject very dear to my heart. I have been immersed in the world of Travers and Mary Poppins for over ten years, and I am convinced there is still much left to uncover. Travers lived a long and productive creative life, yet today she is often remembered only for Mary Poppins. I believe she is an author worth rediscovering. I also believe she was truthful when she said she did not write Mary Poppins with children in mind, and that these stories continue to hold important lessons for adult readers.
I hope you enjoy my conversation with Elisabeth Galvin, and that you will consider subscribing to The Mary Poppins Effect for more reflections and stories exploring the world of Mary Poppins and its connections to other literary worlds.
I wish I were as talented a storyteller as P. L. Travers, able to gift you a magical story this holiday season, but my brain is analytical and reflective. So instead of enchantment, what I am offering is a comparative analysis of the first version of “Happy Ever After,” a Mary Poppins story by P. L. Travers first published privately for friends in 1940 and later included in Mary Poppins Opens the Door, the third book in the series, published in 1943.
The first edition of “Happy Ever After” was limited to one thousand copies privately published by the author for her friends and her publishers as a New Year’s greeting. What a lovely idea, and how lucky were those who received it!
When I first sat down to read the original version, I did not know what to expect, though I suspected there would be some differences from the story I had read in Mary Poppins Opens the Door. Naturally, I was curious to see what had changed and perhaps even to investigate the differences and what they might reveal.
It turned out that the original story is very similar, with most of the differences being largely stylistic. That will likely come as no surprise to any writer. Editing, polishing, and improving a text can be a never-ending process, especially when one struggles with perfectionism or insecurity, which may simply be two sides of the same coin. However, I noticed two significant discrepancies between the two versions of the story and these are the ones that I want to tell you about.
Nowhere in the Mary Poppins books is the exact age of the Banks children stated. The reader understands that Jane and Michael are preschoolers, since they spend most of their time with Mary Poppins in the nursery or in the park. John and Barbara grow from babies to toddlers, and the youngest Banks child, Annabel, appears in the second book, Mary Poppins Comes Back (1935).
But in the 1940 edition of “Happy Ever After,” P. L. Travers reveals how she imagines the ages of the children, and interestingly she seems to forget about Annabel. Or perhaps she intended the story to take place between Mary Poppins’s first visit to the Banks family in Mary Poppins (1934) and her second visit in Mary Poppins Comes Back (1935).
“It was the latest day of the Old Year. Upstairs in the nursery of Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane, Jane Banks who was seven, Michael Banks who was five and John and Barabra Banks who were twins and two-and-a-half, were being undressed.”
This is certainly the kind of detail only a Mary Poppins enthusiast like me would notice, but I take enormous pleasure in diving deeply into these stories and sharing my findings with you. I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoy discovering them.
Another interesting difference between the two versions is that in the 1940 edition, P. L. Travers describes at length how the children perceive Mary Poppins. In the later version, which I find more successful, she conveys the same idea more succinctly and in a way that feels more revealing. Here are the two passages in order.
“She moved about the nursery, folding up the scattered clothes and tidying away the toys. To look at her – with her coal-black hair, her china-blue eyes, her bright pink cheeks and her turned-up nose that was like the nose for a Dutch Doll – you would never imagine that she was anything but a perfectly ordinary person. But Jane and Michael and John and Barbara knew better. For had she not, when she first arrived at Number Seventeen, mounted the stairs by sliding up the banisters? And was it not certain that on her second visit she had appeared from Nowhere on the end of a string, looking more like a kite than a human being? How could a perfectly normal ordinary person be capable of such extraordinary behaviour? Impossible. Jane and Michael and John and Barbara knew very well how extraordinary she was but they did not speak of it for there were things about Mary Poppins that could never be explained. And it was no use talking to her about it for Mary Poppins, as everybody knows, never told anybody anything.”
The passage comes across as clunky and overly explained, and P. L. Travers may have added extra detail for friends unfamiliar with Mary Poppins, but she later trimmed it from 182 words to 94 in the second version of the story.
“She moved about the Nursery, folding up the scattered clothes and tidying the toys. The children lay cosily in their beds, watching the crackling wing of her apron as it whisked about the room. Her eyes were blue and her cheeks were pink and her nose turned up with a perky air like the nose of a Dutch Doll. To look at her, they thought to themselves, you would never imagine she was anything but a person. But, as you know and I know, they had every reason to believe that Appearances are Deceptive.”
What a valuable lesson for children and one that resonates deeply, yet is often forgotten as we grow older. The importance of looking beyond outward appearances and not relying solely on what meets the eye is especially relevant in today’s world, where social media shapes so much of our perception. We are constantly exposed to carefully curated images and stories that can distort what is real and influence how we view ourselves and others.
It’s all too easy to fall into the trap of comparing and judging based on these surface impressions. Many of us have likely experienced firsthand how the tendency to compare ourselves with others can disrupt our relationships and undermine genuine connections. Although it is natural to observe and compare, I find that the rise of social media has intensified these impulses, often resulting in feelings of envy, dissatisfaction, and a sense of inadequacy. Ultimately, the gentle reminder from Mary Poppins to look deeper and not be deceived by appearances is a lesson we would all do well to remember, especially in our modern, image-driven world.
I often wonder what would P.L. Travers think of the world we now live in.
Now I would like to share some examples of the stylistic changes made in the story, even though I cannot fully explain the reasons behind these edits:
In the 1940 version, the nursery characters that come to life on New Year’s Eve are drawn from Nursery Rhymes Old and New, a Victorian era edition of classic English nursery rhymes. In the 1943 version, however, the characters come from Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes, which refers not to a single book but a long-standing tradition of collections featuring familiar English rhymes and characters.
In the 1940 version Admiral Boom blows a trumpet in the frosty air while in the 1943 story he clangs a ship bell.
In the 1940 version, Barbara’s monkey toy is called Sissie, while in the later version the toy is renamed Pinnie.
In the first version, when the children follow their toys to the park where characters from fairy tales and nursery rhymes have gathered to celebrate a magical moment of happy ever after, the brief crack between the first and last stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, they are greeted by the Frog Who Would a-Wooing Go. In the second version, however, they are welcomed instead by the Three Blind Mice and the Farmer’s Wife.
There are several similar small changes in the second version of the story, although the reasons for them are not entirely clear. Even so, the heart of the narrative remains unchanged, reminding us that we each must work to reconcile the opposing forces within our inner and outer lives.
Wishing you all a happy ending of the old year and an even happier start of the new year.
If you’re a devoted fan of Mary Poppins and P.L. Travers—like I am—or if you have a passion for literary travel, this blog post is for you. Through sharing my travel experiences, I hope to offer you some inspiration for visiting locations in London and its surroundings that are deeply connected to the enchanting world of Mary Poppins and her creator.
My Mary Poppins-Themed Trips to London and its Surroundings
In the summer of 2023, I finally fulfilled my long-held dream of visiting London—and the cherry on top was that my daughter decided to join me on the adventure. The trip was inspired by my love for P.L. Travers and Mary Poppins, and my daughter’s enthusiasm for Harry Potter. We also carved out time for some book shopping, exploring iconic historical landmarks, and visiting the Charles Dickens Museum. However, in this blog post, I’ll be focusing specifically on the Mary Poppins side of our journey.
So, let’s begin with a truly special address for any Mary Poppins fan.
50 Smith Street, Chelsea, London
P.L. Travers lived at 50 Smith Street, Chelsea, London with her adopted son, Camillus, from 1946 to 1962. It was here that she wrote Mary Poppins in the Park, the fourth book in the series. Today, the building proudly bears an English Heritage blue plaque in honour of her literary legacy. I used to come across photos of fans on its doorstep shared on social media, and I must admit, I always looked at them with a hint of envy. But now, it was my turn to see the place where she once lived and to experience history in a truly sensory way.
I remember fighting the urge to break into a run as we emerged from the Tube station and began walking down King’s Road. I glanced at the shop windows lining the sidewalks and the red double-decker buses on the street, their colours unusually vivid in the bright daylight, like freshly painted canvases. Even my daughter could sense my heightened emotional state and the spring in my step, and she teased me, ‘You do realise you’re not actually going to meet her in person?’ And I knew she was right—but this was the closest I could ever get to meeting her in the physical world.
In fact, I could hardly believe I was finally just steps away from something I had dreamed about for years—and had often doubted would ever come true. For one reason or another, it was never the right time; something always held me back from booking the trip. This may sound strange to experienced travellers, but I’m not much of a traveller myself—and Canada is a long way from London. So, this first trip to London was a big deal for me on many levels and as it turned out, the experience was truly transformative.
Now you can imagine my disappointment when we reached the corner of Smith Street and I saw a huge construction box blocking the entrance to 50 Smith Street.
The only positive thing, as suggested by a friend who saw the picture afterwards, was that there was a blown-up reproduction of the blue commemorative plaque on display, but that was probably just a friend’s way of trying to lift my spirits.
In a moment of madness (and ignoring my daughter’s rational arguments), I dialed the number displayed on the notice in the window of the construction box. It said that all visitors or anyone seeking access could call the number on the notice. Well, I was definitely a visitor wanting access. The person on the other end of the line clearly didn’t agree—they actually dared to hang up on me. Needless to say, I was offended, but as I gradually came to my senses, I realised not only was I acting a bit unhinged, but I also had a second chance just a few minutes’ walk down King’s Road: Number 29 Shawfield Street, the last residence of P.L. Travers. There really was no need to get so agitated.
29 Shawfield Street, Chelsea, London
P.L. Travers lived at number 29 Shawfield Street for the last thirty years of her life and it is in her the study on the second floor that she wrote Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane and Mary Poppins and the House Next Door, the last two books in the series.
As we turned the corner onto King’s Road and began walking toward Number 29 Shawfield Street, I felt a tinge of sadness that only deepened when I saw the front door, no longer pink as it had been when P.L. Travers lived there. We walked back and forth along the sidewalk, trying—but not quite succeeding—to be circumspect. After all, how circumspect can you really be when snapping selfies in front of someone’s front door?
It was a weekday, and I had convinced myself that the residents of Number 29 were probably at work. But then, a postman happened to walk by and rang the doorbell—and suddenly, the door opened. Feeling a bit embarrassed, we crossed to the other side of the street and sat on the edge of the sidewalk, while I continued to stare intently at the front door.
How I envied all those who had visited her here and, even if only briefly, had been granted a glimpse into her personal world. Below are two personal accounts from people who visited her home and the lasting impression it made on them.
“She lives in a small Georgian house in Chelsea. Her sitting room, where she received me, is light, airy and sparsely furnished. She sits on the corner of a long sofa the rest of which is covered with stacks of books, letters, various publications. On the creamy wall hang a Paul Klee, portraits of great grandmothers and aunts, a drawing of P.L. Travers by AE (George Russell), a Tree of Life by one of her students … The mantle piece is covered with photographs of family and friends, including many children.”
Looking Back, by Shusha Guppy
“P.L. Travers lives in a quiet, small period house in the Chelsea section of London, and everything in her home contributes to a visitor sensing the emptiness of plenitude and the plentitude of emptiness – exemplified in, her upstairs study, by several beautiful Japanese scroll and screen paintings, mostly by Sengai: a willow almost breaking in the wind; six persimmons; a cock crowing to the morning and a little hen bird nearby; the depiction of the syllable mu (literally meaning “not” or “without” and referring to a famous Zen koan and the extraordinary “Ten Oxherding Pictures” (attributed to the twelfth- century Chinese Zen master Kaku-an Shi-en).
Pipers at the Gates of Dawn, by Jonathan Cott
I tried to picture her stepping out of the front door, then slowly descending the three steps. I imagine her gaze fixed on the pavement as she walks down the street, her mind clearly elsewhere. Then she stops. Something has caught her eye. It must be the small star embedded in the sidewalk. She smiles. She loved pointing it out to friends who came to visit, inviting them to find it too—as if it were a secret only she could truly see.
How many people before me had walked that same stretch of pavement, searching for the star? And how many had actually found it? Not being able to see it myself was somewhat of a letdown. Could it be that she made it up? Or had time and countless footsteps worn it away?
Then I remembered reading a blog post by her friend, writer Brian Sibley in which he recounts his first encounter with her and, at the very end of his recollections, mentions the star on the pavement.
“Light was failing, but I found it, at last: just as Pamela had said – a star-shape, faintly but clearly marked in the surface of a paving stone. Doubtless it was some rouge imprint on the surface from the manufacturing of the cement paving-stone, but I was remembering the words of the old snake, the Hamadryad, on that night of the full moon when Mary Poppins took Jane and Michael to the zoo: ‘We are all made of the same stuff… The tree overhead, the stone beneath us, the bird, the beast, the star – we are all one, all moving to the same end…’ ”
Chelsea Physic Garden, London
London’s oldest botanical garden, the Chelsea Physic Garden, is just around the corner from 29 Shawfield Street. It was founded in 1673 by the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries with the mission to grow medicinal plants for study and healing. Located in London, the garden played a key role in botanical research, plant exchange, and the advancement of medical science. Chelsea Physic Garden was open to the public in 1987 with the aim to increase public awareness and support for its historical and scientific significance.
I don’t know for sure if P.L. Travers ever visited the garden, she was 88 years old at the time, but it is possible. What I do know is that in her eighties she was very interested in the medicinal and magical properties of plants, probably motivated by a desire to find a cure, or at least some relief from her digestive problems. Her granddaughter Kitty, recalling childhood memories in an interview for the BBC, said her grandmother was always drinking strange teas and concoctions. These were probably the infusions she made from the herbs she cultivated on her balcony at 29 Shawfield Street.
In an interview she gave to South East at Six, a local BBC teatime news bulletin for viewers in London and the South East, promoting her book Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane, we see P.L. Travers at the end of the video standing on her balcony, gathering herbs into a small wicker basket, a wooden birdhouse behind her. The balcony has a quiet, romantic storybook charm befitting of a writer steeped in fairy tales and mythology.
While the herbs aren’t central characters in the plot of Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane, they do take on a magical, symbolic role during the Midsummer’s Eve adventure of the Banks children. The book also includes at its end a list of herbs with both common and Latin names that are mentioned in the story—a tangible nod to P.L. Travers’s knowledge of plants.
Occasionally, she also gave herbs as a gift to friends who came to visit her at her home.
“At the time I visited P.L. Travers in July 1979, I was feeling perplexed and confused about several things in my life, whose murkiness contrasted sharply with the clarity of the pictures in her study. (…) She also took me to her garden in the back, where she was growing more than twenty varieties of herbs, many of which appear in her recent Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane. (“Taste all of them,” she suggested, “they will do you good.”) Then, as a friendly gesture, she cut off some rosemary sprigs and gave them to me (“This will last forever and bring you good luck. It means “To Remember”)
Pipers at the Gates of Dawn, by Jonathan Cott
This is all for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this post and that you’ll return to read more about Mary Poppins, P.L. Travers, and my adventures as I continue to explore their world. In the next blog post, I’ll be continuing the story of my Mary Poppins-themed trips to London and its surroundings, so stay tuned! And do let me know if you go on a Mary Poppins adventure of your own—or if you enjoy literary trips in general.
This blog post is going to be slightly more personal than usual as I want to share with you one of the many Mary Poppins effects in my personal life. These, for me magical, effects are incontestably transformative and have greatly enriched my inner life and personal happiness. That said, I am not suggesting that all personal challenges have vanished, but my ability to sustain and show resilience comes directly from these various effects.
First and foremost, reconnecting with my childhood reading of “Mary Poppins” reminded me of my deep love for magic and fairy tales. It also made me realize that my daily life had, sadly, become quite dull and ordinary. It’s not that I wasn’t surrounded by people and events—my life was filled with all the things that keep us busy and distracted. Of course, my family is a great source of love and support, and I am forever grateful to them, but there was an emptiness within me that couldn’t be filled by anyone, no matter how loving they were. It just dawned on me (and perhaps this realization had been building up inside of me for some time) that I felt constrained. Faced with this moment of recognition I had to acknowledge the need for more joy and wonder in my life.
But where to find them?
I decided to go search for them in the places where I had found them as a child. The day had come when I was finally old enough to start reading fairy tales again, to paraphrase a quote by C.S. Lewis. I felt goosebumps when I first read this quote by C.S. Lewis because the truth of his words resonated so deeply with my own experience.
Then, organically, one thing led to another, and I found myself collecting old books of fairy tales and fantastical adventures, something that I would never have thought I would be doing a few years ago, as it was so remote from the spheres in which I operated.
The moments I spend reading fairy tales and fantasy novels, or treasure hunting for old books, are pure bliss—a breath of fresh air in my daily life. It’s not just an escape from the ordinary; these activities also allow me to see the world in a new light. Looking at my bookshelves fills me not only with joy but with a sense of groundedness—a feeling of coming home. And I owe it all to P.L. Travers and her Mary Poppins.
Here, I’m sharing some pictures of the books in my modest collection, which I hope will expand over time.
The Brown Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. Illustration below is by H.J. Ford.
Below is a picture of the cover of Princes and Princesses by Andrew Lang.
Illustration below by H.J. Ford.
Below is the cover of Myths & Legends of Japan by F. Hadland Davis.
Illustration below by Evelyn Paul.
While reading interviews given by P.L. Travers, I discovered that our childhood readings intersected, despite our cultural and generational differences. We both read Beatrix Potter, the Brothers Grimm, and Andersen’s fairy tales, to name a few, only I read them translated in Bulgarian. This realization brought back memories of the fairy tales from my own childhood, with their beautiful illustrations, and I felt a deep grief for having left behind the most cherished treasure of all—my books.
My initial response to counter this grief was to dismiss it as childish. I told myself I had to accept certain losses in life. On a practical level, I also thought it unrealistic to expect I could find copies of these books now that I live so far from my birthplace. But was I being childish? Was this a loss that needed to be accepted, or was it the kind of loss that could be retrieved? P.L. Travers herself pondered the theme of loss often, and in her later years, she would say that all that is lost is somewhere.
I decided to give it a try, and with the help of the internet, I’m happy to report that, after a couple of years, I was able to reconstruct most of my childhood fairy tale book collection. I successfully found old copies of the editions I had as a child, as well as some new reprints of those same editions.
These were the books my mother read to me at bedtime and the ones I learned to read with, before I got acquainted with Mary Poppins.
Below are pictures of the illustrations in my copy of Sleeping Beauty. The illustrator is Italian artist Gianni Benvenuti. This was P.L. Travers’s favourite fairy tale. She even wrote her own retelling of it and I wrote two blog posts about it back in 2017; you can read one of them here, and if you’re interested, the other is easily found on the website of this blog.
Cinderella was my personal favourite fairy tale as a child, followed closely by Snow White, mostly because Snow White had dark hair like mine. The illustrations below are also by Benvenuti.
The illustrations of Snow White below are by Sandro Nardini.
And these are my two books of Andersen’s fairy tales. One is quite tattered, and the illustrations aren’t as beautiful as in the other, but I still enjoyed the stories. P.L. Travers loved Andersen’s fairy tales as a child, but as an adult, she had a different view. She believed Andersen undermined the vitality of his stories through his constant appeal for pity. It’s an interesting perspective, but one I don’t share.
The illustrations above are by Lyuben Zidarov. And the illustrations below are by Libico Maraja.
Here is now Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. I must have been around three years old when my mother read Beatrix Potter’s stories to me, and I remember the illustrations captivated me with such magnetic force. I wish I had P.L. Travers’s lyrical talent to describe the experience. It’s hard to put emotional states and impressions into words, but it truly felt as if I was part of the picture. It’s a strange feeling to remember the state yet not be able to recreate the experience. I still enjoy the illustrations, but our perceptions do grow duller as we age.
P.L. Travers adored Beatrix Potter and wrote a review of The Tale of Beatrix Potter by Margaret Lane. I wrote a blog post about it some time ago, you can read it here.
This is all for now. I’ll share more of my childhood book collection in a future post. In the meantime, take care, and I hope you’ll return to read more about Mary Poppins, P.L. Travers, and my adventures as I continue to explore their world.
A new biography of P.L. Travers is scheduled for release in 2025 by Pen & Swords, a British publisher specializing in history and true crime. The author of this biography is Elisabeth Galvin, a British journalist and author who currently resides with her family in Brisbane, Australia.
Last year after discovering this blog, Elisabeth reached out to me, sparking a correspondence that eventually, to my delight, culminated in my contribution of a chapter about P.L. Travers’s spiritual beliefs.
Elisabeth Galvin has written two other biographies of famous children’s writers. The first one, “The Extraordinary Life of E. Nesbit”, which will be the subject of this blog post, was published in 2018. The second, “The Real Kenneth Graham”, was published in 2021.
P.L. Travers was in her own words “a tremendous Nesbit fan” and read her books again and again even as an adult.
I think so highly of her, and I’m absolutely sure that such writers as C.S. Lewis, forinstance, good though his books are, could never have existed without Nesbit.”
Transcripts of A Talk About Sorrow, July 1965
P.L. Travers and Janet Rance
Elisabeth Galvin drew some interesting similarities between the two writers during a recent conversation we had, and I’ve decided to share some snippets of it here for the benefit of the readers of this blog. But just before, let me provide a brief note about the life of E. Nesbit for those of you who are not familiar with her work.
E. (Edith) Nesbit was an English author and poet. She was born in 1858 and died in 1924, the year when P. Travers first came to London, so the two women never met. Edith lost her father when she was only four years old and had to change homes and schools often as her mother traveled frequently to France and Spain seeking a cure to the ailments of Edith’s older sister Mary.
Edith married Hubert Bland who later became an influential socialist journalist and with whom she co-founded the Fabian Society, a socialist organization in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
She wrote numerous short stories, poems and novels both for children and adults. Her most well-known works for children include “The Railway Children”, “Five Children and It”, “The Story of the Treasure Seekers”, “The Phoenix and the Carpet”, and “The Enchanted Castle”.
Her ability to blend fantasy with everyday experiences resonated with readers and contributed to the evolution of children’s literature and as such had a significant influence on later writers, including C.S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, and Jacqueline Wilson.
Now to my conversation with Elisabeth Galvin.
LS: Why did you choose to write a biography about E. Nesbit?
EG: Well, I always wanted to be an author, and I became a magazine journalist, and I absolutely loved my job. Then, when the opportunity came to submit some ideas for biographies about children’s authors to a publisher, I knew I had to take that chance. I thought about all the stories that I loved when I was younger, and Railway Children was one of my favorite stories. I still have the book that my parents gave me, a red leather-bound book with a gold spine – it’s such a lovely story, and E. Nesbit led such an interesting life as well, and I believe that is why I chose to write about her.
LS: Yes, she did have a tumultuous life, and I really enjoyed reading your book because you recreate the atmosphere of that period so vividly. I imagine you had to visit some of the places you write about in your book. Could you share some insights into your research process for the book?
EG: Yes, of course. It was an exciting process because as a journalist, I love meeting and talking with people and exploring different places. A notable experience was visiting Well Hall, where E. Nesbit lived with her family for some twenty years. I had the privilege of exploring it in the company of a member of the E. Nesbit Society, which truly brought the whole experience to life. We walked around Well Hall; while the original house was demolished in 1930, parts of the original gardens still remain and I saw the wooden statues portraying characters from E. Nesbit’s books, so yes, her spirit was definitely there.
(Picture taken from “The Extraordinary Life of E. Nesbit” by Elisabeth Galvin. Dame Jacqueline Wilson at Well Hall unveiling the wooden sculpture of the Psammead, commissioned by the E. Nesbit Society in 2013.)
I visited another one of E. Nesbit’s residences, Halstead Hall in Kent (click on the link to see the pictures). It was one of her childhood’s homes. It was lovely, it had the quintessential English garden and that is where she loved to spend time reading during her teenage years. I think she was 13 when she was there. The vicar who lived in the village at that time lent her his books and that is when she first came across Shakespeare. I could imagine this impressionable young girl lying in her garden looking at the apple trees and the roses and get a picture of her character, so it was very helpful going to those places.
Surprisingly, after E. Nesbit’s death, her personal papers were sold to The University of Tulsa in Oklahoma. She never went to America but was published there too, so I had to go there. I spent five intense days reading letters and other materials from the late eighteen hundreds and early nineteen hundreds and then suddenly came outside to see a Taco Bell and fire engines. It was a funny experience.
LS: Yes, I can imagine, it sounds like a real time travelling experience.Now, what proved to be the most difficult part in writing the book?
EG: The most difficult was knowing that I would never meet her, or talk to her or hear her voice, or ask her questions. A lot of biographies really are speculation, even if it is unintentional, your natural biases do come out. As a journalist you always want to tell the truth and be as fair as you can, and there is a sense of responsibility when delving into someone else’s life.
LS: Definitely, and this also applies to P.L. Travers, especially considering she did not want people to inquire about her private affairs. You mentioned previously that during your research on both women you noticed certain similarities between them. Could you tell us more?
EG: Well, it is amazing, actually. The more you think about it, the more similarities there are – both physically and in terms of their personalities. The way they approach life, the events that unfolded in their early childhood as well as their literary works exhibit striking similarities.
Firstly, both were very tall women with short curly hair. They possessed a somewhat androgynous appearance, attracting men and women. They were both, in a sense, single parents. E. Nesbit was married, but her husband was not particularly supportive.
They both had a “get up and go” attitude toward life. They experienced significant hardships, losing their fathers at a young age, and both had a nomadic childhood—P.L. Travers throughout Australia, and E. Nesbit across Europe, attending school in France and Spain.
Despite the disarray of their early years, they shared a deep love for reading, voraciously consuming any available books. Their affection for Shakespeare and a natural flair for writing emerged early in their lives. Both harbored aspirations to become poets, and perhaps even experienced a tinge of disappointment for not receiving the recognition they desired.
And they both wrote about ordinary children and everyday magic. Their skill was to remember what it was to be a child and to transpose the essence of childhood into their writings. And I don’t know if it is because they had such unusual childhoods, losing a parent at a very young age, but they always had an idealized version of family life.
LS: Do you think they would have gotten along if they had met?
EG: I am sure they would have had a lot in common to talk about. E. Nesbit loved bohemian parties and thrived on that kind of energy. Similarly, P.L. Travers loved to meet new people and make new friends. They were not solo writers, they loved sharing their knowledge and taking part in artistic gatherings.
And I believe they would have connected on the fairy tale aspect as well. P.L. Travers wrote about Sleeping Beauty in the 1970s, and E. Nesbit was also deeply interested in fairy tales, writing her own collection of fairy stories.
LS: I agree, they would have had a lot to talk about. They even shared common acquaintances, George Bernard Shaw for example. Their lives and literary contributions provide an endless well of discussion and we can go on for hours.
I want to thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with the readers of the Mary Poppins Effect blog, and I hope to share more about our collaboration and your forthcoming biography of P.L. Travers in the coming months.
