Mister God, This is Anna

Product Information

In his preface to both the British and American editions of the book, Vernon Sproxton remarks that he has seen Anna's drawings and notes and that he believes her to be real.

There is some uncertainty about Fynn's age on first encountering Anna. Early editions of the book say he was nineteen, but this would be impossible if he was to know Anna for three years before the outbreak of war, and in the latest editions of Mister God, This Is Anna his age has been amended to sixteen. [10] Sources [ edit ] She was silent for a little while. Later I thought that at this moment she was taking her last look at babyhood. Then she went on. No,” she went on, “no, he don’t love me, not like you do, its different, its millions of times bigger.” ster God. No! The whole point of being alive was to be like Mister God and then you couldn't help but be good and kind and loving, could you?”

Success!

The book allows us to meet Anna, a precocious child of four years. She has run away from home and makes a life with Fynn and his mum. During her short life, Anna develops a refined way of looking at almost everything around her and manages to teach twenty year old Fynn a thing or two about life. From the moment Anna refused to tell anyone where her parents lived to the moment of her death, Anna manages to control her environment and those around her, although her control is a loving, gentle control. bird?" Indeed, how could he? So, like Alice in Wonderland, Anna ate of the cake of imagination and altered her size to fit the occasion.After all, Mister God did not have only one point of view but an infinity of viewing points, and the whole purpose of living was to be like Mister God. So far as Anna was concerned, being good, being generous, being kind, praying, and all that kind of stuff had very little to do with Mister God. They were, in the jargon of today, merely At five years Anna knew absolutely the purpose of being, knew the meaning of love and was a personal friend and helper of Mister God. At six Anna was a theologian, mathematician, philosopher, poet and gardener. If you asked her a question you would always get an answer – in due course. On some occasions the answer would be delayed for weeks or months; but eventually, in her own good time, the answer would come: direct, simple and much to the point." [3] There are some who say this child could not have just come to live with this family, It did happen in the 1930's and having little children run the streets was not unheard of. There are some who may say no child could ever do or think what Anna did but I am here to tell you, I personally know of at least one. And don't forget Mozart wrote music at this same age and played his sister's violin without being taught at this same age or younger. I must have made some movement or noise, for she levered herself upright and sat on her haunches and giggled. The she launched herself at me and undid my little pang of hurt, cut from the useless spark of jealousy with the delicate sureness of a surgeon.

Oh,” she said. “well then, why does he let things get hurt and dead?” Her voice sounded as if she felt she had betrayed a sacred trust, but the question had been thought and it had to be spoken. Anna is involved with everything. The gist of the book is the philosophy of a child who has the wisdom to comprehend more than what would be expected of her.Es ist kein allzu trauriges Buch, da man von vornherein das Ende kennt, allerdings musste ich mir dennoch am Schluss ein Tränchen verkneifen, da es wirklich ein 'schönes' Ende war. Toll beschrieben und mit einer wunderbaren Anekdote, die zum Buch passt. Wundervoll!

Sydney George Hopkins (26 March 1919 - 3 July 1999), as a teenager and young adult, lived in the East End of London in the early 1930s. He was briefly drawn towards the politics of Oswald Mosley, but soon became disillusioned. He won a scholarship to a local grammar school, Cooper's Company College, [5] London E3, and left aged 15 to work for The Russian Oil and Petroleum Company, where he had aspirations of becoming a research chemist. [6] Following a fall off a cliff he suffered chronic insomnia and in 1939 was referred to Finchden Manor [7] in Kent, a therapeutic community run by George Lyward O.B.E., and later joined the staff. [8] I don't know why I was getting the feeling that this account is partly fictionalised. Children can be precocious but this book does seem to be a stretch. So many of the conversations seem impossible for a 5-7 year old. The pessimistic part of me just doesn't let me trust this narrative to be entirely based in reality. This is, by far, the most boring book I have read this year, and that's including the one book I DNFed. I was sufficiently troubled about all this to execute some google searching. Searching the word "Fynn", I found: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mister_G...

Become a Member

Aside from any spiritual implications, I remember the book’s emphasis on thinking for oneself, which I have tried latterly to hang on to, even at the risk of sounding like an idiot, or – more usually – proving myself one. As children, we thrive by thinking for ourselves. As adults, we’re cursed with sophistication. We recycle ideas, parade breadth of learning, are paralysed by the thought of being wrong. We call this sophistication cultural capital, which seems to me a good term because it is a currency: a system of value rather than the thing of value. have none of it. No! Religion was all about being like Mister God and it was here that things could get a little tough. The instructions weren't to be good and kind and loving, etc., and it therefore followed that you would be more like Mi

Schade ist - was man von Anfang an weiß, dass Anna nicht alt wird und das sie nur ganze zwei Jahre, glaube ich, bei Fynn lebt. Sie stirbt also sehr jung. Even the dirt and the stars and the animals and the people and the trees and everything, and the pollywogs?” The pollywogs were those little creatures we had seen under the microscope. Fynn, Mister God doesn’t love us.” She hesitated. “He doesn’t really, you know, only people can love. I love Bossy, but Bossy don’t love me. I love the pollywogs, but they don’t love me. I love you Fynn, and you love me, don’t you?”

It seemed to me to reduce itself to the fact that we were like God because of the similarities, but God was not like us because of our differences. Her inner fires had refined her ideas, and like some alchemist she had turned lead into gold. Gone were all the human definitions of God, like Goodness, Mercy, Love, and Justice, for these were merely props to describe the indescribable. This is a short book I want everyone to read, though there are some who will find it too simple to enjoy. I loved Anna and her many ideas. One of my favorites is when Anna realized she knew the answer to a squillion (the biggest number Anna could think of) questions. Just when Fynn thinks he is going to set her right, she proves she is already right: How much is 4 take away 1? How much is 2 plus 1? How much is 5 take away 2? By now you must have figured out we could go on all day with this line of reasoning. Indeed, Anna taught Fynn that it is the questions that are truly important. Even beyond that, it is the circumstance of the question that is important. Saying yes to the offer of a drink of water may be drastically different depending on if you are three days into the desert or just newly arrived at the restaurant. The relationship between Fynn and Anne is very fluid. As he himself says, "I saw myself variously as father, brother, uncle, friend." I admired their immediate connection with each other and Fynn's clear devotion for the little girl. But instead of focusing on this beautiful, short-lived relationship, Fynn decides to focus mainly on Anne's thoughts about God, and the hundred thousand questions raised in his mind by her constant musings. This is what brings the book down. The conversations between the two get very repetitive and dragged. I think I should have been much more of a religious idealist or much more of a philosopher to truly appreciate this book. Sadly, I am neither. mind making himself small. People thought that Mister God was very big, and that's where they made a big mistake. Obviously Mister God could be any size he wanted to be. It sounded to me like a death knell. “Damn and blast,” I thought. “Why does this have to happen to people? Now she’s lost everything.” But I was wrong.