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For all my thoughts, along with those of the other ladies of The Midnight Garden, you can see

I think that the primary reason this book didn’t really work for me is that stories told from a child’s perspective are poignant in large part because the child doesn’t understand the deeper meanings behind what is going on. It is crucial that the person hearing or reading the story be able to discover that poignancy herself, otherwise it doesn’t really mean anything. I think that the way this story is told--with the flowery explanations of everything--destroys the heart of it. Death as a narrator feels like a gimmick of an idea that this sweet little story got shoehorned into. That said, the last few pages were lovely. While I did not cry at the end, I can understand why so many people did. I wish more of the book had been told in the nice, straightforward style of that final section.