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Behind the Attic Wall
They were watching ... and waiting
At twelve, Maggie had been thrown out of more boarding schools than she cared to remember. "Impossible to handle," they said—nasty, mean, disobedient, rebellious, thieving—anything they could say to explain why she must be removed from the school.
Maggie was thin and pale, with shabby clothes and stringy hair, when she arrived at her new home. "It was a mistake to bring her here," said Maggie's great-aunts, whose huge stone house looked like another boarding school—or a prison. But they took her in anyway. After all, aside from Uncle Morris, they were Maggie's only living relatives.
But from behind the closet door in the great and gloomy house, Maggie hears the faint whisperings, the beckoning voices. And in the forbidding house of her ancestors, Maggie finds magic ... the kind that lets her, for the first time, love and be loved.
At twelve, Maggie had been thrown out of more boarding schools than she cared to remember. "Impossible to handle," they said—nasty, mean, disobedient, rebellious, thieving—anything they could say to explain why she must be removed from the school.
Maggie was thin and pale, with shabby clothes and stringy hair, when she arrived at her new home. "It was a mistake to bring her here," said Maggie's great-aunts, whose huge stone house looked like another boarding school—or a prison. But they took her in anyway. After all, aside from Uncle Morris, they were Maggie's only living relatives.
But from behind the closet door in the great and gloomy house, Maggie hears the faint whisperings, the beckoning voices. And in the forbidding house of her ancestors, Maggie finds magic ... the kind that lets her, for the first time, love and be loved.
320 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1982
About the author
Sylvia Cassedy
19 books41 followersAn American author of picture books, poetry, and fiction, the Brooklyn-born creative-writing teacher began her career with a few minor picture books, such as Little Chameleon (1966), but is best known today for her poetry and novels. Roomrimes (1987) and the posthumously published Zoomrimes: Poems about Things That Go (1993) were praised for their perceptiveness, humor, and unusual variety of poetic forms.
Cassedy's three novels, Behind the Attic Wall (1983), M.E. and Morton (1987), and Lucie Babbidge's House (1989) are all intricate, leisurely paced novels about troubled or difficult protagonists who gain self-esteem through the intervention of possibly magical characters.
The author's incisive characterizations, carefully wrought prose, and ambiguous endings made her a critics’ favorite.
Cassedy's early death cut short an extraordinary writing career that had yet to peak, and fans can only wonder about—and mourn the loss of—the novels that were yet to be.
Cassedy's three novels, Behind the Attic Wall (1983), M.E. and Morton (1987), and Lucie Babbidge's House (1989) are all intricate, leisurely paced novels about troubled or difficult protagonists who gain self-esteem through the intervention of possibly magical characters.
The author's incisive characterizations, carefully wrought prose, and ambiguous endings made her a critics’ favorite.
Cassedy's early death cut short an extraordinary writing career that had yet to peak, and fans can only wonder about—and mourn the loss of—the novels that were yet to be.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 485 reviews
January 6, 2010
Okay so this book has been the hardest book for me to ever remember. I read this book in 7th grade so I must have been about 12 or 13. That time in my life was a very difficult time for me family wise. I was a very depressed kid with lots of issues. I had to write a book report in 7th grade and this book totally caught my attention. A book about a girl that has to go live with her 2 aunt's and 1 uncle. She is completely isolated until she meets the dolls upstairs and begins a friendship, her only friendship, with these dolls.
This book was very comforting and live saving for me.
I forgot about the book by 8th grade. Went on to high school and then off to boarding school. Nonetheless, life didn't get easier and I always found myself drawing strength from the books message.
I searched for this book for 14years. 14 years! I couldn't remember the name of the book. I looked in bookstores across the country trying to remember the friggin' name.
Last night I dreamnt of my great grandfather whom passed away years ago. I dream of him frequently. He visits me time-to-time. Last night he gave me this book. He said "here is your book mija." I held the book in my hands. Brushed the cover and plain as day saw the name of the book. As soon as I got to computer this morning I looked up the name "Behind the Attic Wall." There is was. The book I've been searching to remember for 14 years of my life. The one book I've always referenced in my head for comfort. I ordered it 15 minutes ago and I'm so very happy to have found it finally. I can't wait to re-read it to see if that message has changed. Though, I doubt it has.
Thank you Grandpa Lucero. It means more to me than anyone will understand.
This book was very comforting and live saving for me.
I forgot about the book by 8th grade. Went on to high school and then off to boarding school. Nonetheless, life didn't get easier and I always found myself drawing strength from the books message.
I searched for this book for 14years. 14 years! I couldn't remember the name of the book. I looked in bookstores across the country trying to remember the friggin' name.
Last night I dreamnt of my great grandfather whom passed away years ago. I dream of him frequently. He visits me time-to-time. Last night he gave me this book. He said "here is your book mija." I held the book in my hands. Brushed the cover and plain as day saw the name of the book. As soon as I got to computer this morning I looked up the name "Behind the Attic Wall." There is was. The book I've been searching to remember for 14 years of my life. The one book I've always referenced in my head for comfort. I ordered it 15 minutes ago and I'm so very happy to have found it finally. I can't wait to re-read it to see if that message has changed. Though, I doubt it has.
Thank you Grandpa Lucero. It means more to me than anyone will understand.
May 18, 2011
[spoiler alert] Sylvia Cassedy's "Behind the Attic Wall," which you would find in the children's books section directed to "older readers," has a number of elements that will be familiar to devotees of classics like "Cindarella," "The Secret Garden," and "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." The heroine, an orphan named Maggie, comes to live with her two humorless aunts in an old mansion that used to be a school, now shrouded in mysterious tragedy. Yet though Maggie is a "charity case," she is far from the noble-poor type portrayed by the Brothers Grimm, Frances Hodgson Burnett, and Roald Dahl. Maggie is dour toward adults, combative toward other children, and imaginative when alone. Her curiosity and willfulness leads her, like Mary Lennox and Lucy Pevensie, to discover magic hidden behind forbidden doors: in this case, two knee-high porcelain dolls animated by the spirits of the old school's founders, who, Maggie learns, were killed in a fire that forced the school's closure. Timothy John and Miss Christabel, as the two dolls introduce themselves, invite Maggie into their rituals: pretend "tea" served from an empty teapot, walks in the "garden" (an attic room covered with faded floral wallpaper), and conversation (Alice in Wonderland-like semi-nonsense). The dolls, who mysteriously refer to Maggie as "the right one," become unlikely friends for antisocial Maggie, who had insisted, from the outset, that she doesn't play with dolls ("'They're dumb'").
All of the above would make for a serviceable children's novel, with contours predictable enough to provide comfort in the guise of adventure. What makes "Behind the Attic Wall" a fresh departure from the familiar is its provocative, ultimately ambiguous blend of realism and fantasy. Cassedy's characterizations are completely unsentimental. Maggie--an Indian-burn-inflicting, sassing, stealing, hair-sucking antiheroine--is more raw than any Cindarella. The aunts, nutrition freaks appalled by Maggie's skinniness and listless hair, embark on a crusade to nourish her into their idea of a "wholesome child" (like the obnoxiously self-satisfied Jeanette, whom they invite over as an enforced friend for Maggie--here again, Cassedy won't let superficial goodness go uncritiqued). Yet despite the aunts' apparent concern, they are far from comforting, with their fiercely rouged cheeks and harsh critiques. Even Uncle Morris, whose semi-nonsensical wordplay (tellingly similar to that of the two dolls) incites Maggie's first stirrings of affection, is hardly a Prince Charming; he holds himself at a faux-serious, benevolent distance and never shows his hand.
As with her human characters, Cassedy presents her fantasy characters mostly without sentimentality. Maggie imagines a group of "backwoods girls," poorer than she, to whom she teaches concrete tasks: how indoor plumbing works, how to write on a blackboard, how to "kill" a snowflake (by melting it on one's skin). The dolls are presented, at first as a disappointing alternative to Maggie's occasional sentimental escapism. Unhappy that the voices she's been hearing behind the walls belong to a "pair of old dolls" and instead of the "real" (heavily idealized) family she had imagined, she attempts to figure out the dolls' mechanics. Initially, at least, she refuses to believe in them because she can't figure out how they work. Only when she suspends her disbelief and plays along does she become emotionally connected to them--yet it's clearly described as playing along. The teapot pot remains cold and empty, and Maggie's imagination provides the heat, just as her awakening sense of poetry transforms the faded rose wallpaper into a haven, a literal "child's garden of verses."
Set within such a realistic portrayal, the blurriness of the magic involved raises the question of what Cassedy means by that ambiguity. Perhaps Maggie, a sixth-grader who still entertains herself with imaginary friends, has simply gone around the bend to madness by imagining voices behind walls, ultimately locating the voices in two dolls she finds in the attic. Certainly the aunts, when they discover the dolls, don't perceive anything magical afoot (though it's not uncommon for unbelievers in children's books to have their doubts become self-fulfilling). Yet Uncle Morris's mysterious connection to the dolls seems to substantiate their reality--or perhaps Maggie just imagines his vague allusions are conspiratorial. The ending, which I never felt sure I understood as a kid, suggests they are, with Uncle Morris's presence as a new doll (after the real man dies of a heart condition). Or is it just that Maggie, distraught at the loss of the one adult she had cared about, inventing a more bearable ending whereby Uncle Morris doesn't have to die completely? That Cassedy balances her story perfectly on the lip of this uncertainty is what makes it so affecting.
Ultimately, Cassedy's careful treatment of Maggie's emotional awakening clarifies this balance, though it does so by widening, not reducing, its potential meanings. Though she's outwardly antisocial, Maggie longs for genuine emotional connection with someone else. She doesn't respect that which is entirely within her control; it's why she condescends to the backwoods girls and viciously dents the plastic face of the doll her aunt gives her at the book's outset (when Maggie declares, "'I don't play with dolls'"). It's Uncle Morris's unpredictability that compels her, compared with her predictably critical aunts. It's Timothy John's and Miss Christabel's refusal to comply with her expectations that allows her to suspend disbelief and see them as apart from herself. Considering this, I conclude that Cassedy does intend the dolls to be seen as real, not figments of imagination, since they have done what no aspect of Maggie's embittered mind had been able to achieve thus far: to imagine that emotional connection with other souls is possible despite her unhappy childhood. Belief in magic, that signature childhood perspective, is available to her, and love--which Cassedy presents (remarkably without sentiment) as a most mysterious suspension of disbelief--is her birthright after all.
All of the above would make for a serviceable children's novel, with contours predictable enough to provide comfort in the guise of adventure. What makes "Behind the Attic Wall" a fresh departure from the familiar is its provocative, ultimately ambiguous blend of realism and fantasy. Cassedy's characterizations are completely unsentimental. Maggie--an Indian-burn-inflicting, sassing, stealing, hair-sucking antiheroine--is more raw than any Cindarella. The aunts, nutrition freaks appalled by Maggie's skinniness and listless hair, embark on a crusade to nourish her into their idea of a "wholesome child" (like the obnoxiously self-satisfied Jeanette, whom they invite over as an enforced friend for Maggie--here again, Cassedy won't let superficial goodness go uncritiqued). Yet despite the aunts' apparent concern, they are far from comforting, with their fiercely rouged cheeks and harsh critiques. Even Uncle Morris, whose semi-nonsensical wordplay (tellingly similar to that of the two dolls) incites Maggie's first stirrings of affection, is hardly a Prince Charming; he holds himself at a faux-serious, benevolent distance and never shows his hand.
As with her human characters, Cassedy presents her fantasy characters mostly without sentimentality. Maggie imagines a group of "backwoods girls," poorer than she, to whom she teaches concrete tasks: how indoor plumbing works, how to write on a blackboard, how to "kill" a snowflake (by melting it on one's skin). The dolls are presented, at first as a disappointing alternative to Maggie's occasional sentimental escapism. Unhappy that the voices she's been hearing behind the walls belong to a "pair of old dolls" and instead of the "real" (heavily idealized) family she had imagined, she attempts to figure out the dolls' mechanics. Initially, at least, she refuses to believe in them because she can't figure out how they work. Only when she suspends her disbelief and plays along does she become emotionally connected to them--yet it's clearly described as playing along. The teapot pot remains cold and empty, and Maggie's imagination provides the heat, just as her awakening sense of poetry transforms the faded rose wallpaper into a haven, a literal "child's garden of verses."
Set within such a realistic portrayal, the blurriness of the magic involved raises the question of what Cassedy means by that ambiguity. Perhaps Maggie, a sixth-grader who still entertains herself with imaginary friends, has simply gone around the bend to madness by imagining voices behind walls, ultimately locating the voices in two dolls she finds in the attic. Certainly the aunts, when they discover the dolls, don't perceive anything magical afoot (though it's not uncommon for unbelievers in children's books to have their doubts become self-fulfilling). Yet Uncle Morris's mysterious connection to the dolls seems to substantiate their reality--or perhaps Maggie just imagines his vague allusions are conspiratorial. The ending, which I never felt sure I understood as a kid, suggests they are, with Uncle Morris's presence as a new doll (after the real man dies of a heart condition). Or is it just that Maggie, distraught at the loss of the one adult she had cared about, inventing a more bearable ending whereby Uncle Morris doesn't have to die completely? That Cassedy balances her story perfectly on the lip of this uncertainty is what makes it so affecting.
Ultimately, Cassedy's careful treatment of Maggie's emotional awakening clarifies this balance, though it does so by widening, not reducing, its potential meanings. Though she's outwardly antisocial, Maggie longs for genuine emotional connection with someone else. She doesn't respect that which is entirely within her control; it's why she condescends to the backwoods girls and viciously dents the plastic face of the doll her aunt gives her at the book's outset (when Maggie declares, "'I don't play with dolls'"). It's Uncle Morris's unpredictability that compels her, compared with her predictably critical aunts. It's Timothy John's and Miss Christabel's refusal to comply with her expectations that allows her to suspend disbelief and see them as apart from herself. Considering this, I conclude that Cassedy does intend the dolls to be seen as real, not figments of imagination, since they have done what no aspect of Maggie's embittered mind had been able to achieve thus far: to imagine that emotional connection with other souls is possible despite her unhappy childhood. Belief in magic, that signature childhood perspective, is available to her, and love--which Cassedy presents (remarkably without sentiment) as a most mysterious suspension of disbelief--is her birthright after all.
January 9, 2018
This is one of those books if asked to choose a handful to take to a desert island or to pass on to grand children or to rescue from a fire if there were no chance of getting another copy, this would be one I would choose without hesitation.
Maggie is an orphan and is sent to live with some Aunts who live in an old school house, the founders of the school were relatives of theirs. The Aunts are not warm or understanding towards Maggie and do not see that Maggie is emotionally traumatised by her loss. Her Uncle Morris is a wonderful character who is the only friend to Maggie, although doesn't see Maggie often and can't provide the loving parenting she needs. Uncle Morris does seem to know about the mystery of the story which is what gets Maggie through this difficult time.
The story is beautifully written and very moving, I struggled to read parts aloud they were so sad. The story is very cleverly written, starting forward in time with Maggie looking back, and despite knowing what will happen to Maggie and the title does give you certain clues, what happens in between holds plenty of suprises.
The ending is lovely, and despite Maggie's sadness you feel there is much hope, and hope too for others in her position. I highly recommend this book.
Maggie is an orphan and is sent to live with some Aunts who live in an old school house, the founders of the school were relatives of theirs. The Aunts are not warm or understanding towards Maggie and do not see that Maggie is emotionally traumatised by her loss. Her Uncle Morris is a wonderful character who is the only friend to Maggie, although doesn't see Maggie often and can't provide the loving parenting she needs. Uncle Morris does seem to know about the mystery of the story which is what gets Maggie through this difficult time.
The story is beautifully written and very moving, I struggled to read parts aloud they were so sad. The story is very cleverly written, starting forward in time with Maggie looking back, and despite knowing what will happen to Maggie and the title does give you certain clues, what happens in between holds plenty of suprises.
The ending is lovely, and despite Maggie's sadness you feel there is much hope, and hope too for others in her position. I highly recommend this book.
May 29, 2009
A refreshing coming-of-age story with a distinctly spooky twist.
Also, it would make for a FANRASTIC movie!!
I can see the movie trailer now:
The camera shows the front of a car where an elderly man in a fedora-like hat (Uncle Morris) and a teenage girl of about 12 or 13 (Maggie) are seated. The elderly man has a pleasant air about him. The girl's face is twisted into a scowl.
Narrator: "Over the years, Maggie has been thrown out of more boarding schools than she can count..."
Zoom in on the girl.
Narraror: "Now her two great-aunts have agreed to take her in. She has hopes of finally having a warm and cozy home where she will be loved and accepted..."
Camera cuts to the car pulling into a circular driveway and stops in front of a gothic-looking structure that has a distinct air of neglect about it. The setting sun reflects on the windows in such a way as to make the structure look completely abandoned--or like someone could be watching unseen through one of them.
Narrator: "What she found was nothing like she expected"
Camera cuts to a close-up of the girl's face and the audience hears her thoughts: "It's just another boarding school. There are no great-aunts. They tricked me!" (or something to this effect)
Montage of: Maggie's two cruel great-aunts making nasty comments to each-other about Maggie as they sit at the emmense dining table in the cavernous dining room. Maggie sits there looking sullen... Maggie wandering the empty halls and looking into empty rooms in an unsuccessful search for other students... Maggie's reflection in an antique mirror as the imaginary Backwoods Girls crowd around her... Maggie sitting at a desk in a sparsley-furnished bedroom playing solitare...
Camera stops on the scene where Maggie is playing solitare. An unseen voice calls "Maggie! Maggie, come! It is time!" Maggie looks up from her cards and calls out "Who's there?"
Narrator: "But Maggie just might find the love and acceptance she's wished for if only she dares to look for it...."
Camera shows Maggie approaching an old, locked door.
Overlaying this scene is the film's title: BEHIND THE ATTIC WALL
Also, it would make for a FANRASTIC movie!!
I can see the movie trailer now:
The camera shows the front of a car where an elderly man in a fedora-like hat (Uncle Morris) and a teenage girl of about 12 or 13 (Maggie) are seated. The elderly man has a pleasant air about him. The girl's face is twisted into a scowl.
Narrator: "Over the years, Maggie has been thrown out of more boarding schools than she can count..."
Zoom in on the girl.
Narraror: "Now her two great-aunts have agreed to take her in. She has hopes of finally having a warm and cozy home where she will be loved and accepted..."
Camera cuts to the car pulling into a circular driveway and stops in front of a gothic-looking structure that has a distinct air of neglect about it. The setting sun reflects on the windows in such a way as to make the structure look completely abandoned--or like someone could be watching unseen through one of them.
Narrator: "What she found was nothing like she expected"
Camera cuts to a close-up of the girl's face and the audience hears her thoughts: "It's just another boarding school. There are no great-aunts. They tricked me!" (or something to this effect)
Montage of: Maggie's two cruel great-aunts making nasty comments to each-other about Maggie as they sit at the emmense dining table in the cavernous dining room. Maggie sits there looking sullen... Maggie wandering the empty halls and looking into empty rooms in an unsuccessful search for other students... Maggie's reflection in an antique mirror as the imaginary Backwoods Girls crowd around her... Maggie sitting at a desk in a sparsley-furnished bedroom playing solitare...
Camera stops on the scene where Maggie is playing solitare. An unseen voice calls "Maggie! Maggie, come! It is time!" Maggie looks up from her cards and calls out "Who's there?"
Narrator: "But Maggie just might find the love and acceptance she's wished for if only she dares to look for it...."
Camera shows Maggie approaching an old, locked door.
Overlaying this scene is the film's title: BEHIND THE ATTIC WALL
July 9, 2014
Let's face it: This book is terrifying. I couldn't stop rereading it as a kid, but seriously... What the absolute hell?
There are living porcelain dolls living in the attic? Does everyone in the family who dies become a doll? Or just the ones who die violently? Also, the story is a flashback, leaving you with the impression that the narrator has either been adopted or is in a foster home now, which is probably better all around, but there's no indication (that I recall) of whether this is a permanent situation, or how she got there, which is kind of rude. She's an unhappy child at the beginning, is it really better now? The descriptions in this book were so vivid, too, that I can still remember how her stockings fastened with little rubber buttons to her underwear, and that the electric lights turned on by pulling a plastic oval hanging from a cord in the hallway... Such a great book. But seriously: terrifying.
There are living porcelain dolls living in the attic? Does everyone in the family who dies become a doll? Or just the ones who die violently? Also, the story is a flashback, leaving you with the impression that the narrator has either been adopted or is in a foster home now, which is probably better all around, but there's no indication (that I recall) of whether this is a permanent situation, or how she got there, which is kind of rude. She's an unhappy child at the beginning, is it really better now? The descriptions in this book were so vivid, too, that I can still remember how her stockings fastened with little rubber buttons to her underwear, and that the electric lights turned on by pulling a plastic oval hanging from a cord in the hallway... Such a great book. But seriously: terrifying.
August 17, 2011
I have literally been trying to remember the name of this book for decades. It was a beautiful, haunting story that stuck with me. I am seriously overjoyed to have found it!
May 28, 2017
This story was fun and touching from the start. I knew some of what was coming and for a while enjoyed the fantasy angle less than the realistic part. But I ended up liking it all and have much appreciation for how it ended up for all of the characters. I was both delighted and frustrated by the ending. A part of me wanted more but mostly I loved its open-endedness. I’ve decided on my own how it ended up in the long run for the main character. Maggie is a memorable character and I believe very genuinely and effectively believable. Ditto Morris and most of the others, even minor characters such as Barbara. This is a book I’d love to discuss in private with others who’ve read it. Had I read it at age 9 or 10 I’m certain it would have been one of my favorite books at the time. In some way it feels like a classic but I was already an adult when it was published. Big spoiler not to be read if you think you might read the book but haven’t yet:
Thanks to Goodreads friend Hilary for alerting me to it and encouraging me to read it.
Thanks to Goodreads friend Hilary for alerting me to it and encouraging me to read it.
May 28, 2017
If you have ever felt unloved, unlovable, and/or unable to love, this is your book. Unforgettable. Thanks for bringing it to my attention again Hilary!
March 25, 2023
2 stars. I saw this book first in a Value Village and was very interested from the title and front cover. The back synopsis, when I looked it up on Goodreads later, was also promising, so I added it to my TBR. I could not, however, determine if there was any magic or ghosts in the story. So when I returned to the store and found the book still there, I decided to start reading it to see if it was really something I wanted to read or even buy. I loved the first few pages, ok? Uncle Morris was AMAZING. I didn’t like Maggie at all but I desperately wanted to and couldn’t wait to see her grow and change. However, time was pressing, so I started flipping through to see if I could find any info on the content. The more I read, the more I wanted it… but I ended up confirming it was indeed about ghosts. So it’s a DNF for me, but I'm so sorry I can’t read it because apart from that it looked wonderful! I give it two stars for how much I loved what parts I read.
October 14, 2019
Last month, Heather and I were having a lovely chat about the books that we'd read in childhood that had probably contributed to our weirdness.
This was the book that made her weird and she suggested, "You should read it. It's fabulously bizarre." That's verbatim. I'm looking at the text right now.
I had never heard of this title which, in retrospect, surprises me because this is precisely the type of book I was reading in 3rd and 4th grade. How did it pass me by? Was I just too old when it was published? I had possibly moved onto heroic fantasy by that point, leaving my sad orphan tales behind.
This story reminded me strongly of one of my own favorites, though not one that contributed to my weirdness, Magic Elizabeth. They're somewhat similar with an orphan girl showing up at an old relative's house and finding a and such. The atmosphere of that one is a bit brighter and definitely more upbeat while this one is just sad. It may be the saddest kid's book I've ever read. And it's completely unapologetic for its traumatized main character who can and will not conform to standards, not even for her own comfort. Such a lonely little lost soul and still loveable while being completely frustrating. And now that I'm old, I both understood the aunts' point of view and mentally chastised them for being so incapable of compassion.
Yeah, I can see how this would wreck a sensitive kid. Maybe I'm glad I didn't read it until adulthood. Maybe it would have made me weird, too...and we all know how wonderfully normal I am!
Thank you for the rec, Heather! I really enjoyed this even if it was terribly heavy and sad.
This was the book that made her weird and she suggested, "You should read it. It's fabulously bizarre." That's verbatim. I'm looking at the text right now.
I had never heard of this title which, in retrospect, surprises me because this is precisely the type of book I was reading in 3rd and 4th grade. How did it pass me by? Was I just too old when it was published? I had possibly moved onto heroic fantasy by that point, leaving my sad orphan tales behind.
This story reminded me strongly of one of my own favorites, though not one that contributed to my weirdness, Magic Elizabeth. They're somewhat similar with an orphan girl showing up at an old relative's house and finding a and such. The atmosphere of that one is a bit brighter and definitely more upbeat while this one is just sad. It may be the saddest kid's book I've ever read. And it's completely unapologetic for its traumatized main character who can and will not conform to standards, not even for her own comfort. Such a lonely little lost soul and still loveable while being completely frustrating. And now that I'm old, I both understood the aunts' point of view and mentally chastised them for being so incapable of compassion.
Yeah, I can see how this would wreck a sensitive kid. Maybe I'm glad I didn't read it until adulthood. Maybe it would have made me weird, too...and we all know how wonderfully normal I am!
Thank you for the rec, Heather! I really enjoyed this even if it was terribly heavy and sad.
August 14, 2007
I still remember when I picked out this book in Waldenbooks when I was in the sixth grade. Ah...memories. It is such a beautiful book about an outcast girl who finds friendship and hope when she discovers magical dolls in her aunts' attic. (It is on the cover of the book, so I guess I'm not giving anything away.) The ending is great, and I cry every time. I highly recommend this to anyone.
April 9, 2008
I read this book about 50 times in elementary school. I loved ghost stories and mystery books so much, thats all I ever read. I found this in my school library in a solid dark green hardback cover (I thought it was so mysterious) and then later my mom ordered the paperback for my birthday.
Behind the Attic Wall is magical and sad, about being accepted and needed. Maggie's loneliness and anger made me want to befriend her and go with her through the secret passage way to visit the dolls everytime. I guess feeling like the black sheep of the family, I identified with stories about misunderstood children who were often left to play alone.
Behind the Attic Wall is magical and sad, about being accepted and needed. Maggie's loneliness and anger made me want to befriend her and go with her through the secret passage way to visit the dolls everytime. I guess feeling like the black sheep of the family, I identified with stories about misunderstood children who were often left to play alone.
July 12, 2007
Conceivably my favorite book from childhood. Maggie is a young orphan who finds herself parked with her great-aunts for lack of any closer relations. After being moved around with great frequency, she develops an acidic attitude towards the world, which mellows as she finds new friends behind the attic wall, and learns to deal with the loss of her parents. The prose is fluid, and Maggie is quite believable, as is her great-uncle Morris. Touching and whimsical, yet accurrate and grounded.
October 16, 2012
Reviewed by Rusty Key Writer: Becca Worthington
Recommended for: Girls, Ages 8 and up.
One Word Summary: Haunting.
In children’s literature, there are plenty of touching books about abandoned orphans who are unfailingly candy-sweet despite the great tribulations they have undergone at such a young, tender age. Maggie is not one of those orphans.
At age twelve, having bounced from home to home for years, having been kicked out of an endless string of boarding schools for being “impossible to handle”—nasty, mean, disobedient, unkind, you name it—Maggie has literally reached the end of the line. She has just arrived at the home of her last known living relatives, all others having taken her in and given up, passing her on hopelessly to someone else. Her final chance before she’s sent into the orphanage system is Adelphi Hills Academy, a long out of use boarding school for girls now occupied by her rigid great-aunts Harriet and Lillian.
While they float around their eerily silent and gloomy, empty school, barking rules at her—Stop chewing on your hair! Don’t wear those filthy clothes! Stand up straight! Eat your vegetables!—she occupies her time by openly disobeying their requests, wandering into the creaking recesses of the abandoned school building and occasionally engaging in conversations with the Backwoods Girls, a group of imaginary girls she has invented to follow her around admiringly. The Backwoods Girls beg her to show them things, teach them things, and tell her that she’s smart and beautiful and wonderful, and in return she tells them how stupid they are, how unloved, how ugly.
Maggie starts school but, as she always does, immediately ostracizes herself from the students on the first day by stealing their belongings, climbing up to the roof when she is supposed to be in class, and spitting at them when they come to find her. The only break from her self-imposed loneliness is when wacky great-Uncle Morris stops by the academy from time to time to engage her in his nonsensical conversations. He’s quite possibly certifiably crazy, but unshakably kind, and it seems that no amount of her misbehavior or direct cruelty can squash his affection for her. But she does nothing to encourage his friendship, and those around her quickly learn to leave her to her pocket of misery. As the weeks roll by, she grows more lonely, more disobedient, and more than a little unsettled by the cold quietness of the house and the way she always feels watched somehow, even when her aunts are not around.
And then she starts hearing the voices. Quiet voices. Beckoning voices. A man and a woman, whispering at her from the hallways and the closets and behind locked and forbidden doors. In the house of her long-dead ancestors, she is hearing what no one else seems to hear. Then one day, when she pauses in the dark and empty hallway, the voices call her by name. “Maggie. It’s time,” they say. “Come! We’re waiting. You know where.” And what she finds when she tracks down the voices to where they wait behind the attic wall is nothing close to anything she was prepared for.
Behind the Attic Wall was recommended to me by a good friend as her absolute favorite book from childhood. While I was certainly drawn to less creepy fare myself, this is one I truly wish I had experienced in my youth and am unspeakably grateful to have experienced as an adult.
Fluidly and insightfully written, emotionally provocative, and truly inspired in its originality, rarely has a story of a troubled youth allowed its character to be so despicable while somehow still retaining empathy. Maggie’s conversations with the Backwoods Girls are continually heartbreaking; Uncle Morris provides bursts of unexpected brightness and pleasure whenever he enters a scene; the mood of the book is unmatched in the way its eerie loneliness brushes, so slightly, with magic; and the exquisite final chapter of the book speaks to the author’s expertise and superb storycraft. Although Sylvia Cassedy died in 1989, her talent, like the characters in this story, is nothing short of haunting.
For more reviews, author interviews, reading lists and articles from The Rusty Key, visit us at www.therustykey.com
Recommended for: Girls, Ages 8 and up.
One Word Summary: Haunting.
In children’s literature, there are plenty of touching books about abandoned orphans who are unfailingly candy-sweet despite the great tribulations they have undergone at such a young, tender age. Maggie is not one of those orphans.
At age twelve, having bounced from home to home for years, having been kicked out of an endless string of boarding schools for being “impossible to handle”—nasty, mean, disobedient, unkind, you name it—Maggie has literally reached the end of the line. She has just arrived at the home of her last known living relatives, all others having taken her in and given up, passing her on hopelessly to someone else. Her final chance before she’s sent into the orphanage system is Adelphi Hills Academy, a long out of use boarding school for girls now occupied by her rigid great-aunts Harriet and Lillian.
While they float around their eerily silent and gloomy, empty school, barking rules at her—Stop chewing on your hair! Don’t wear those filthy clothes! Stand up straight! Eat your vegetables!—she occupies her time by openly disobeying their requests, wandering into the creaking recesses of the abandoned school building and occasionally engaging in conversations with the Backwoods Girls, a group of imaginary girls she has invented to follow her around admiringly. The Backwoods Girls beg her to show them things, teach them things, and tell her that she’s smart and beautiful and wonderful, and in return she tells them how stupid they are, how unloved, how ugly.
Maggie starts school but, as she always does, immediately ostracizes herself from the students on the first day by stealing their belongings, climbing up to the roof when she is supposed to be in class, and spitting at them when they come to find her. The only break from her self-imposed loneliness is when wacky great-Uncle Morris stops by the academy from time to time to engage her in his nonsensical conversations. He’s quite possibly certifiably crazy, but unshakably kind, and it seems that no amount of her misbehavior or direct cruelty can squash his affection for her. But she does nothing to encourage his friendship, and those around her quickly learn to leave her to her pocket of misery. As the weeks roll by, she grows more lonely, more disobedient, and more than a little unsettled by the cold quietness of the house and the way she always feels watched somehow, even when her aunts are not around.
And then she starts hearing the voices. Quiet voices. Beckoning voices. A man and a woman, whispering at her from the hallways and the closets and behind locked and forbidden doors. In the house of her long-dead ancestors, she is hearing what no one else seems to hear. Then one day, when she pauses in the dark and empty hallway, the voices call her by name. “Maggie. It’s time,” they say. “Come! We’re waiting. You know where.” And what she finds when she tracks down the voices to where they wait behind the attic wall is nothing close to anything she was prepared for.
Behind the Attic Wall was recommended to me by a good friend as her absolute favorite book from childhood. While I was certainly drawn to less creepy fare myself, this is one I truly wish I had experienced in my youth and am unspeakably grateful to have experienced as an adult.
Fluidly and insightfully written, emotionally provocative, and truly inspired in its originality, rarely has a story of a troubled youth allowed its character to be so despicable while somehow still retaining empathy. Maggie’s conversations with the Backwoods Girls are continually heartbreaking; Uncle Morris provides bursts of unexpected brightness and pleasure whenever he enters a scene; the mood of the book is unmatched in the way its eerie loneliness brushes, so slightly, with magic; and the exquisite final chapter of the book speaks to the author’s expertise and superb storycraft. Although Sylvia Cassedy died in 1989, her talent, like the characters in this story, is nothing short of haunting.
For more reviews, author interviews, reading lists and articles from The Rusty Key, visit us at www.therustykey.com
October 25, 2007
I adored this book, and it's still good, on both the orphan-books and ghost-books fronts.
April 21, 2019
I thought (or was hoping) that this would be scary. It was a bit creepy at times, but for the most part it was the story of a pretty horrible girl growing up. Still, it was entertaining. I loved all the things the aunts said to her, such as: Don't draw phlegm into your throat like that, you will block your ear passages permanently.
Her uncle was hilarious.
Her uncle was hilarious.
June 18, 2018
What a wonderful book. Just the kind of book I'd have liked as a child and still like. The elements of mystery, humor, and supernatural all woven together in an enjoyable, fun, inspiring read. As I said earlier, the beginning reminded me a lot of A Secret Garden - a troubled orphan comes to live w/an unknown-to-her relative and creates havoc. Maggie, the main character, is wild, destructive and distrustful. She's been thrown out of so many schools she never expects to stay in one place very long. So she tries to take control of the situation by bringing on the inevitable- breaking things and going against all the rules so she can then initiate the rejection before it is initiated against her. The magic part comes in when she discovers some dolls behind the attic wall. Her interaction with the dolls, as well as her strange and other worldly conversations with her eccentric Uncle Morris all play a part in Maggie's transformation. Beautiful story, wonderfully written.
Just started this book- thanks for the wonderful review of it Booklady! So far I am loving this. The beginning reminds me of A Secret Garden.
Just started this book- thanks for the wonderful review of it Booklady! So far I am loving this. The beginning reminds me of A Secret Garden.
February 22, 2009
This is a book that, though evidently geared for a younger audience, is one that many ages could read and still enjoy. Sylvia Cassedy weaves a beautiful tale of mystery in this story, one that keeps you thinking until the very last page. And let me just say that the ending is genius! Even through my second read of the story, I was hooked until the last page, eager to understand the mystery that surrounds 12 year old Maggie, the main character. I recommend that everyone read this book, you won't regret it!
July 20, 2017
This is one of the books that each reader will bring his or her own perceptions to, *even more than most.*
I have hidden all the significant spoilers below, but if you've decided you do want to read the book soonish, you probably want to do so before reading my review, so you can have as few preconceptions as possible.
__________
A GR friend uses the word "fun" and yet I found it so very sad. Another totally believes the magic; I assumed that the girl was (mildly and temporarily) mentally ill. I have no idea who Uncle Morris is, why he was the way he was, why I think the great-aunts felt that they were doing their best to do their duty and do right by the child, but other readers seem to think they're evil. I wish And the interactions the girl has with others, the little sisters get treated almost like the Backwoods Girls but they like it, the bossy Greens... just, well, hmm.... I also find it highly unlikely that nobody in all these boarding schools (in America? in the latter half of the 20th century?) would work harder to actually counsel this girl who has obviously never effectively grieved for her parents. Just an odd book. I, personally, cannot bring myself to say I really liked it, but others certainly might.
I have hidden all the significant spoilers below, but if you've decided you do want to read the book soonish, you probably want to do so before reading my review, so you can have as few preconceptions as possible.
__________
A GR friend uses the word "fun" and yet I found it so very sad. Another totally believes the magic; I assumed that the girl was (mildly and temporarily) mentally ill. I have no idea who Uncle Morris is, why he was the way he was, why I think the great-aunts felt that they were doing their best to do their duty and do right by the child, but other readers seem to think they're evil. I wish And the interactions the girl has with others, the little sisters get treated almost like the Backwoods Girls but they like it, the bossy Greens... just, well, hmm.... I also find it highly unlikely that nobody in all these boarding schools (in America? in the latter half of the 20th century?) would work harder to actually counsel this girl who has obviously never effectively grieved for her parents. Just an odd book. I, personally, cannot bring myself to say I really liked it, but others certainly might.
November 28, 2018
*2.5 - I honestly have really mixed feelings. First, this took me wayyyyy too long to read lol. Second, I felt like pieces of it it were good and then it became boring. Third, I loved the ending(the last paragraph was so good omg). Fourth, this book is really weird and spooky and I liked it and I didn’t at the same time...
February 3, 2019
Re-read in a fit of nostalgia. I don't think I would have loved this as much today as I did as a child, but judging from the condition of my childhood copy I think it's fair to say that I loved this a lot at the time.
November 7, 2009
Well, I finished it. That might be about all I can say that's very good about this book. I really didn't like it at all. I wanted too...and goodness knows I normally really love a good juvie lit hit but wow...it drove me nuts. There were all these completely tired plot elements (the heroine is a sickly, ugly orphan who is sent to live with her crazy, uncaring maiden aunts after bouncing around various orphanages...etc) then there were all kinds of horribly jarring historical inaccuracies. Like the heroine is always wearing old fashioned stiff wool dresses and uses button hooks on her shoes and yet she has a scene where she fantasizes about playing basketball like she remembers doing at a previous school. What the heck? That kind of thing drove me nuts. I think the worst thing about the book though was that the big secret that the book dangles in front of you for chapters and chapters is "What in the world is going on in the attic????" (ghosts? vagrants hiding out? fairies or other magical creatures?) and then the resolve it with "Nope! Just some weird dolls that are alive mysteriously!" So odd and so disappointing. I felt totally gypped. Really, dolls? And then they try to give the dolls meaning at the end by implying that the dolls are inhabited by the souls of previous residents and when her lovely wacky uncle (the only character I really liked in the story) dies he becomes a new doll. So lame. I'm sorry. I really wanted to get into it but, honestly I feel cheated that I finished the book and thereby wasted so much time reading it. Just goes to show Amazon reviews are not always gospel.
October 10, 2020
I liked the book, but wasn't able to understand some things. I couldn't understand the sisters. I liked how Uncle Morris behaved so much like the dolls. The plot was realistic and good. But it was a a little too sad at the end. (This is just a tip once read this book, read the epilogue.)
March 6, 2024
This is such a beautiful, unique, special book. I first read and loved it as a child and it was such a poignant bittersweet joy to rediscover and reread it as an adult.
August 23, 2019
Incomplete review:
I found a new middle grades author to admire and aspire to. I am so sad that she died young and so there are very few other books of hers to read.
There is total ambiguity as to whether the dolls are talking or it's just Maggie, and in the end I lean towards believing it's Maggie's mind based on all the evidence that preceded her discovery "behind the attic wall."
She has a powerful imagination despite her loneliness and despair, and some of her hard heart (her protective wall against more pain) crumbles to lovable Uncle Morris. He never gives up on her, makes her see herself in new and positive ways, and therefore gives her hope. She trusts Uncle Morris and projects some of her new confidence and his personality into the characters of the dolls, who comfort her in the same way as Uncle Morris.
I understand disassociative disorder in children who have suffered abuse and neglect and abandonment, so Maggie is totally believable as a human being. I don't believe in dolls possessed by ghosts but I do believe Maggie is not a fictional character but a real person! :-]
I found a new middle grades author to admire and aspire to. I am so sad that she died young and so there are very few other books of hers to read.
There is total ambiguity as to whether the dolls are talking or it's just Maggie, and in the end I lean towards believing it's Maggie's mind based on all the evidence that preceded her discovery "behind the attic wall."
She has a powerful imagination despite her loneliness and despair, and some of her hard heart (her protective wall against more pain) crumbles to lovable Uncle Morris. He never gives up on her, makes her see herself in new and positive ways, and therefore gives her hope. She trusts Uncle Morris and projects some of her new confidence and his personality into the characters of the dolls, who comfort her in the same way as Uncle Morris.
I understand disassociative disorder in children who have suffered abuse and neglect and abandonment, so Maggie is totally believable as a human being. I don't believe in dolls possessed by ghosts but I do believe Maggie is not a fictional character but a real person! :-]
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 11, 2019
I used to love this book as a child, and then I was describing it to a coworker and needed to revisit, mostly to refresh my memory. It's strange because I stand by my first assertion: it's a book about talking dolls behind an attic wall that is also not a scary book! Every person I describe the plot to thinks it sounds horrifying but actually the whole thing is just sort of quiet/sad/sweet in it's way. My heart always went out to Maggie and I loved the companionship she found, and how the dolls helped her learn to open herself and be vulnerable in the chance to connect with others.
The figures of the aunts are annoying because the horrible/uptight/offended at children being kids trope is really overdone, but Uncle Morris was always my absolute favourite and takes dad jokes to a whole new level. (Uncle jokes?)
The figures of the aunts are annoying because the horrible/uptight/offended at children being kids trope is really overdone, but Uncle Morris was always my absolute favourite and takes dad jokes to a whole new level. (Uncle jokes?)
April 11, 2012
This all came back to me when I read it out loud to my six-year-old daughter. Despite the almost gothic premise (an orphan gets sent to live in a former boarding school with her spinster aunts), the book manages to capture so many universal truths about girlhood. I haven't seen the interior life of a young girl illustrated quite so vividly before: Maggie lives her life inside her head, communicating with "The Backwoods Girls" or imagining--in great detail, with dialogue--how her classmates will react upon meeting her. She hears voices from inside the walls, and only then does she begin to look outward, peering into locked rooms, creeping up hidden staircases. . . .
November 3, 2014
Overall, a good story, but it was a little slow for me. It took more than half the book to finally have something happen. I understand the backstory to explain Maggie, who she is, her behavior, her background, etc., but it seemed to drag. I probably would have enjoyed this story much more if I had read it when I was a kid.
April 18, 2011
I wanted to like this so much more than I did because I was rooting for the main character. Maybe because I'm so far removed from my own childhood but this book was just difficult to suspend my disbelief long enough to care!
November 26, 2014
This was one of my favourite books when I was a kid. I re-read it many times, though in retrospect I'm not sure why I loved it so much. It's sort of a melancholy book, but maybe that was part of the appeal.
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