About 87 minutes
Fairy Tales Told in the Bush — Text and Context
Fairy Tales
19,826 recorded words. 6 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #64310The catalog record for More Tales in the Land of Nursery Rhyme — Key Ideas to Explore provides practical reading context through 18,581 words, 1 hr 21 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 16.7 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
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About 87 minutes
Fairy Tales
19,826 recorded words. 6 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #64310About 94 minutes
Fairy Tales
21,496 recorded words. 13 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #8675About 94 minutes
Fairy Tales
21,591 recorded words. 13 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
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Read on Project GutenbergAda M. Marzials opens 'More Tales in the Land of Nursery Rhyme' not with a single character but with a collective: five birds huddled in a barn as the North Wind howls. The robin, sparrow, owl, and two Japanese birds are distinguished by species and temperament, their dialogue revealing a social hierarchy built on native confidence versus foreign shyness. The robin’s joke that Mother Goose is ‘plucking out feathers up there’ to make snow is the first of many moments where Marzials turns a familiar rhyme’s imagery into a literal, slightly absurd mechanism. This opening establishes a pattern: the book takes the static scenes of nursery rhymes and sets them in motion, giving each figure a voice and a problem that demands action.
The theft motif appears early. The robin accuses Mother Goose of causing the cold, and later the witch in ‘Jack and Jill’ steals water in ‘elastic bags’ from thunderstorms and wells. Both tales hinge on a resource—warmth, water—being hoarded by a powerful figure. The birds cannot act; they only complain. Jill, by contrast, is forced to participate in the theft, emptying bags into casks labelled ‘Drinking-water Possible’ and ‘Reservoirs Old Fruity.’ The witch’s gleeful ‘Ha! ha! I stole it!’ is repeated verbatim, turning theft into a ritual chant.
The witch’s theft has visible consequences. When Jill finally escapes, the village is ‘brown and baked and dusty,’ the stream gone, the ducks reduced to ‘bleaching bones.’ This is not a moral lesson stated outright but a landscape altered by greed. Jack, reduced to a ‘dirty, thin, brown-skinned, weak-looking boy,’ asks for water. The tale ends not with a resolution but with a question: ‘isn’t there any milk?’ ‘No,’ said Jack. The lack of a tidy conclusion is characteristic of Marzials’ approach; she prioritizes the logic of cause and effect over happy endings.
This movement is not only physical but temporal. The tales shift from the timeless ‘once upon a time’ to a specific duration: ‘a year and a day.’ The witch’s departure and return at dusk create a diurnal rhythm. The barn scene, by contrast, is static; the birds do not leave. The book thus alternates between confinement and release, with the latter often revealing a worse state than the former. Jill’s escape leads to a world more barren than the witch’s kitchen.
The language is plain but not simplistic. Marzials uses compound sentences and precise verbs: ‘howled,’ ‘whirling,’ ‘ruffling,’ ‘peered.’ The witch’s ‘Abracadabra’ is the only overt magical word; most spells are embedded in action. The excerpts contain no authorial moralizing. The drought is presented as fact, not punishment. This restraint gives the stories a matter-of-fact quality that distinguishes them from more didactic fairy tales.
Readers approaching ‘More Tales in the Land of Nursery Rhyme’ should expect not a collection of separate stories but a sequence of variations on a theme: what happens when a rhyme’s premise is taken literally and its characters are given agency. The barn and the witch’s cottage are stages for experiments in scarcity and theft. Pay attention to repeated phrases—‘a bag here, and a bag there’—and to the physical details of setting, which often carry more weight than the dialogue. The book rewards a slow reading that tracks how each tale reuses or subverts the original nursery rhyme’s imagery.
That rainy afternoon, Marzials’ bird council squabbling over stolen water felt less like fairy tale and more like a quiet truth about how neighborhoods hold together. Later, drying the book’s cover, I noticed a companion volume on the shelf, spine unbroken. The strange, generous logic of its tales reminded me of that same stubborn kindness. Indian Fairy Tales — Reading Companion sat beside it, patient, until the rain stopped.
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