I like Pollyanna. One child listening to the story by Eleanor H. Porter objected to the girl Pollyanna’s overly dramatic episodes, but, in the end, I quite like her. Admittedly, I didn’t care for the ending of the novel which was syrupy sweet and implausible. But the character is a delight!
Pollyanna a clear literary type: the orphan child of constrained circumstances, like Anne of Green Gables or Little Lord Fauntleroy (though his mother is living, she is described as a child, not a protective maternal force). Her innocence gives her insight beyond her years and a frankness that disarms her elders and throws their quiet vices into sharp relief. Her childhood of isolation and deprivation are the backdrop to an expansive and inexhaustible imagination, and her loneliness bursts forth in a talkative nature that can exasperate.
Unlike Anne of Green Gables, however, Pollyanna has become synonymous with irritating and excessive optimism and her name is a pejorative. As one writer aptly noted on Psychology Today, “Pollyanna is probably the most misunderstood fictional character of 20th century American literature. When most people think of Pollyanna, they think of an overly optimistic goody-goody who doesn’t see the harsh reality of the world. The term Pollyanna has taken on quite a negative connotation, and you frequently hear people using the term apologetically—I hate to be a Pollyanna, or critically—Stop being such a Pollyanna.”
Say what you will about Pollyanna, her Glad Game is shorthand for a host of helpful ideas, a cognitive behavioral therapy workaround, and masterclass in cultivating gratitude. The Glad Game, which she teaches to all the household waitstaff in her Aunt Polly’s home and practices with the people down the street on the brink of divorce, the grouchy invalid, and anyone else she meets on the street, is a helpful tool.
In the book, Pollyanna explains to her aunt’s servant Nancy how her father taught her the Glad Game when she asked for a doll in the missionary barrel:
“Yes. You see I’d wanted a doll, and father had written them so; but when the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn’t any dolls come in, but the little crutches had. So she sent ’em along as they might come in handy for some child, sometime. And that’s when we began it.”
“Well, I must say I can’t see any game about that, about that,” declared Nancy, almost irritably.
“Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about—no matter what ’twas,” rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. “And we began right then—on the crutches.”
“Well, goodness me! I can’t see anythin’ ter be glad about—gettin’ a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!”
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
“There is—there is,” she crowed. “But I couldn’t see it, either, Nancy, at first,” she added, with quick honesty. “Father had to tell it to me.”
“Well, then, suppose you tell me,” almost snapped Nancy.
“Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don’t—need—’em!” exulted Pollyanna, triumphantly. “You see it’s just as easy—when you know how!”
“Well, of all the queer doin’s!” breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes.
“Oh, but it isn’t queer—it’s lovely,” maintained Pollyanna enthusiastically. “And we’ve played it ever since. And the harder ’tis, the more fun ’tis to get ’em out; only—only sometimes it’s almost too hard—like when your father goes to Heaven, and there isn’t anybody but a Ladies’ Aid left.”
Pollyanna has been given the short end of the stick when it comes to reputation in literary culture. While Porter’s novel has its shortcomings, her character of Pollyanna is an inspiration for cultivating a life of gratitude. Next time you hear yourself grumbling, take up the Glad Game and share it with those around you.
