I'm not a huge fan of Henry James. I DNF'd "Portrait of a Lady" and skipped right to the movie version of "Washington Square" (1949's "The Heiress", starring the indomitable Olivia de Haviland). However, "What Maisie Knew" struck a chord with me--so much so, that this is my second time reading it.

I have over five years experience as a circuit court clerk, and much of that time was spent in family court hearings. I saw parents using their children as weapons to hurt each other, and after years of vitriolic proceedings, treat their children like props in a second-rate stage production. I saw parents loudly proclaim their great fondness for their children, then sit and watch their attorneys bully those same children in chambers to try to extract a confirmation.

In "What Maisie Knew", James accurately portrays the acute misery of being a child of such parents--split apart, selfish, dismissive, even adulterous. Not only is his depiction spot on, but the lenses through which we see his picture is exactly right: the confused, muddied eyes of a little girl. Maisie knows more than the adults think she does. Maisie knows at once, more than she should, but less than she needs. Maisie knows enough to "mirror" to protect herself and her loved ones. Maisie has been made a confidant, a confession-booth, a chaperone, a junior-sized human shield against conscience. As we read, we see through Maisie's eyes and experience her confusion and hunger for affection and stability as she does.

This was a short novel, but I took my time with it. Reading it has renewed my determination to be a steadfast wife and mother--no baby should go through this, and be made to bear burdens beyond their years.