Sally Becomes a New Zealander
- Kirsten Edwards
- Dec 15, 2022
- 3 min read
Updated: Nov 6
Author: N. D. Thompson (Nola Dilyse)
Illustrated by Tom Coomber
I stumbled across this unassuming little novel in Arty Bees, Wellington; an ex-library copy, foxed and fragile, but the title whispered buy me. My daughter and I read it together; it became our favourite book of the year. Never judge a book by its cover; this one proves the adage gloriously wrong.
Yorkshire orphan Sally loses her mother and is shipped to Wellington to live with an uncle she never knew existed, the family’s black sheep, who ran away to sea. Uncle Dave turns out to be a warm-hearted farmer near Masterton, married to Aunty Jane with six lively children: Peter, Veronica, twins Daphne and Diana, Dan, and baby Josie. They rattle around in a battered car nicknamed the Willy-Nilly.
Sally’s summer unfolds in a whirl of farm chores, Kowhai school, and new friendships, especially with Hinemona, a Māori classmate. Trips to Wellington to visit Grandmother and an aunt add city sparkle to the rural idyll. Ellis’s 1960 prose echoes Enid Blyton, “Gee! I’m hungry!” and “jolly good!”, but beneath the breezy dialogue lies surprising emotional depth.
Orphan tales abound in children’s literature, yet grief is rarely lingered over. Ellis handles it with rare sensitivity. Sally aches for Yorkshire, her late mother, her old life then, in a heartbreaking turn, comforts her cousins after loss. This passage (pp. 119–120) still moves me:
Sally was thoughtful. How could she comfort her small cousins in their grief? She herself knew the stark reality of death, young as she was. Had it not claimed both of her parents? And she remembered the pain and the suffering, the puzzlement of youth concerning death, the loss of security and love, and the wretched feeling that she had been robbed of everything that life stood for. As Sally recalled these emotions of her own bereavements, she wanted so much to comfort the sorrowful little girls before her. She looked across at the gay spring flowers, rich with colour in the sunlight, and they seemed to nod their fair heads in approval of her thoughts.
"Well, " she said at length, "it's just as if the world is a big garden and all the people in it are flowers. See those golden daffodils over there? Well, they have budded and blossomed, and when they begin to fade, Aunty Jan will pick their withered heads off, won't she?"
The twins nodded.
"Well," continued Sally, "God does the same in the world, which is His garden. When we get tired of living, as Gran did, he just picks our soul from our body and takes it to rest with Him."
"Oh!" The twins were satisfied and comforted.
Death was no longer feared, not when you look at the golden daffodils swaying so gracefully in the gentle spring breeze, not when you thought of Gran as one of their happy hosts, picked by God because she was tired of blooming... (page 119-120)
From timid newcomer to quiet pillar of strength, Sally grows before our eyes. She confronts bullying (from cousin Veronica and at school), stands against racism toward Hinemona, and learns courage from Peter’s steady friendship.
I could linger on every relationship, every twist, but half the joy is discovery. Months later, Sally still lives in my head. If you spot a copy (mine cost $30 second-hand), seize it. A quiet collector’s gem in New Zealand children’s literature, and a story that nourishes the heart.
A highly recommended living book for ages eight and over.
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