Dead Authors: What Happens to a Book When Its Author Dies?

OR: How Characters Outlive Their Creators

When I began work on The Secret Journal of Victor Frankenstein on the Workings of the Human Body, I wasn’t just adapting Mary Shelley’s classic, I was exhuming it. Shelley, who died in 1851, had no idea her cautionary tale about ambition and monstrosity would spark not just horror films, Halloween masks and bolts-in-the-neck clichés, but an entire mythology. I imagined Victor Frankenstein not as a mad scientist, but as a curious, obsessive student doctor scribbling anatomical observations in the margins of history and fiction. And in doing so, I found myself part of a tradition that is as old as storytelling: giving a dead book new life.

The Secret Journal Of Victor Frankenstein On The Workings Of The Human Body, Created and Designed and written By David Salariya,

Dead Authors

Books do not die when their authors do. Often, they become more alive, more adaptable, more debatable, more prone to reinvention...or just go out of print. Characters slip their leashes and escape their original context. Authors lose control, and in death, their creations begin to belong to everyone. Victor Frankenstein may have started as a warning in Shelley’s imagination, but he's now appeared in everything from YA romances to Lego sets. We remake him to suit each generation’s fears, fascinations, and in my case, to explore the beautifully grotesque world of early science and anatomy.

This phenomenon of books and characters outliving their creators, is more common, and more poignant, than we realise. Think of Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys’s haunting prequel to Jane Eyre, which gives voice to Bertha Mason, the “madwoman in the attic”, and reframes her not as an obstacle in Rochester’s romantic arc, but as a colonial victim of displacement and silencing. Or Longbourn by Jo Baker, which revisits Pride and Prejudice from the perspective of the housemaids who scrub out the rectory. Even the retellings of Greek myth in Circe by Madeline Miller, or Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls, do something similar: they prise open the old stories and let other voices speak.

Sometimes the resurrection is playful (Wicked), sometimes tragic (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead), sometimes a legal minefield. But it proves a simple truth: when authors die, their characters often begin a second life. In children’s publishing, this process is even more intense, characters like Peter Pan, Winnie-the-Pooh, or Paddington outgrow their books, becoming eternal playmates, animated avatars, and cultural shorthand.

This blog explores what happens legally, emotionally, and culturally when a book outlives its author. Who inherits the rights? Who owns the royalties? How do publishers reshape an author’s work for new markets, and who gets to say what the story becomes? Is it caretaking, or creative overreach? Through a few examples including Peter Pan, Winnie-the-Pooh, and Roald Dahl, I’ll explore the strange afterlife of books: how they are mourned, marketed, rewritten, and sometimes reborn.

Because while writers are mortal, stories, it turns out, are not.

Legal Fate: Rights, Royalties, and Copyright After Death

Estate Inherits Rights:

Legally, an author’s rights and royalties become part of their estate at death. The publishing contract does not terminate; the publisher can continue publishing the book, but must redirect royalty payments to the author’s estate or designated heirs. In practice, a will or probate process will determine who controls these rights (e.g. a spouse, children, or a trust/organisation named by the author).

Royalties to Heirs or Beneficiaries

The estate’s executor will ensure that future royalty payments go to the beneficiaries named in the will (or by law, if no will). Essentially, the people or entities inheriting the author’s property step into the author’s shoes for royalty collection. For example, when children’s author Roald Dahl died in 1990, his rights and royalties passed to his family via the Roald Dahl Story Company, which continued to manage his books.

Copyright Duration

In most countries, copyright lasts for decades after the author’s death. Under the Berne Convention standard, copyright expires 70 years after an author’s death.

(life + 70 years). During this term, the estate (or whoever holds the rights) exclusively controls publishing, adaptations, etc., and collects revenue. This means a book can keep earning money for the author’s descendants or beneficiaries for two generations or more. Only after the copyright term ends does the book enter public domain, becoming freely usable by anyone.

Public Domain and Classics

Once in public domain, anyone can publish, adapt, or transform the book without permission or fees. This is why we see countless editions and adaptations of works by long-dead authors like Lewis Carroll or Dickens, their copyrights have lapsed. For example, J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan fell out of copyright 70 years after his death (Barrie died 1937, so copyright expired end of 2007)

Similarly, A.A. Milne’s original Winnie-the-Pooh stories (first published 1926) began entering the public domain in the U.S. in 2022 (95 years after publication, roughly corresponding to 70 years after Milne’s 1956 death in many jurisdictions)

Once a best selling children’s book is public domain, new creative spins can arise, for example, the public-domain status of Winnie-the-Pooh enabled a 2023 parody horror film with Pooh as a character.

Special Bequests and Trusts:

Some authors make unique legal arrangements for their works upon death. A famous example in children’s books is J.M. Barrie’s gift of Peter Pan to charity. In 1929, Barrie donated the rights to Peter Pan to Great Ormond Street Hospital, a children’s hospital in London

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This meant that after his death, all royalties from the book and play went to the hospital, a generous legacy that funded patient care for decades

(I’ll explore this case more below.) Authors may also set up trusts to manage their literary property. For instance, A.A. Milne’s will placed his Pooh rights into a trust benefiting his family and certain institutions

which later facilitated licensing deals with Disney.

Continuing Control and New Projects

The author’s estate can negotiate new deals for the book. They might license movie rights, commission sequels, or collaborate on merchandise. For example, an author’s death doesn’t stop planned book series – estates sometimes hire co-authors to finish incomplete works or approve new books set in the same universe. In children’s publishing, Great Ormond Street Hospital (as Barrie’s rights holder) even commissioned an official sequel novel Peter Pan in Scarlet in 2006 to continue the story of Peter Pan

In short, legally the story can continue growing under new stewardship.

Cultural Impact: Legacy, Marketing, and Reader Interest

When a famous author dies, readers and publishers often react in ways that increase the book’s visibility:

Posthumous Popularity Spike

It’s common to see a surge in book sales after an author’s death. Fans rush to reread favorites, new readers are curious about the buzz, and media coverage acts as free publicity. When reclusive author J.D. Salinger died, his classic The Catcher in the Rye shot up to the top of bestseller lists, Amazon reported a 3,000% jump in sales within hours. Even lesser-known titles by the author saw five-figure percentage increases in demandstandard.co.uk. This “memorial effect” has been documented by publishers (one study found an author’s death more than doubles the likelihood of their book becoming a bestseller). In children’s books, a similar boost happens; when Terry Pratchett (author of many YA fantasy books) died in 2015, his novels saw a huge upswing in sales as readers paid tribute.

Marketing and “Legacy Editions

Publishers often repackage books after an author’s death as a way to honour them (and meet renewed demand). You might see special anniversary editions, boxed sets, or covers emblazoned with “Classic of "Author Name” shortly after the obituary pages. This is not purely profiteering, historically, publishers have viewed it as both business and homage. In fact, doing so has Victorian roots: when author Charles Kingsley died in 1875, his friend at Macmillan immediately ran ads highlighting the “Works by the Late Rev. Charles Kingsley” as a tribute-cum-sales push. Today, publishers continue to walk that line. They may promote a book’s continued circulation as “keeping the author’s spirit alive”, not just selling a product. Readers often respond positively, seeing buying the book as a way to connect with or memorialise the author.

Adaptations and Franchises

The cultural legacy of a book can grow immensely after the author’s death, especially if film/TV producers and merchandisers step in. Many classic children’s books became far more famous posthumously through adaptations. A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh was adapted into Disney animated films starting in the 1960s, after Milne had died, turning Pooh into a global household name beyond the books

The author’s absence often means the estate approves these projects. Similarly, Roald Dahl’s stories (Matilda, The BFG, etc.) were made into films and even a West End musical (Matilda) in the decades after Dahl’s 1990 death, all managed by his estate. In 2021, Netflix went so far as to acquire the entire Roald Dahl Story Company (the estate’s business arm) to develop a “unique universe” of content from Dahl’s books

This unprecedented deal shows how a late author’s catalogue can become the foundation for new media, from films and series to games and theme park rides.

Continued Series and Ghostwriters

In some cases, if the author leaves an unfinished series or the book is part of a franchise, publishers may bring in other writers to continue the work. This happens more in adult fiction (e.g. Robert Jordan’s fantasy series completed by Brandon Sanderson), but there are children’s book examples too.

After Sir Arthur Conan Doyle died, others continued Sherlock Holmes adventures; similarly the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys series long outlived their original creators via ghostwriters. For children’s picture books or early readers, it’s less common to continue without the original author’s voice, but estates sometimes authorise new entries. Dr. Seuss’s estate found some of his old sketches/manuscripts and released new books posthumously, like Hooray for Diffendoofer Day! completed by Jack Prelutsky.)

Entering the Public Conversation

An author’s death can also spark critical re-evaluation or academic interest in their work. The book might gain “classic” status. Libraries and schools could increase attention on it, feeling the historical significance. All of this reinforces the book’s cultural longevity. On the flip side, sometimes controversies are re-examined:, Dahl’s legacy has been debated due to insensitive content in his books and his personal antisemitic remarks

In 2023, decades after Dahl’s death, his estate and publisher made headlines for editing the language in new editions of his children’s books to remove terms deemed offensive (e.g. changing “enormously fat” to just “enormous” when describing a character

This move was met with mixed reactions, some praised updating the books for modern kids, while others (including author Salman Rushdie) blasted it as “absurd censorship” and said “Puffin Books and the Dahl estate should be ashamed”

The controversy illustrates that a book’s life after the author can include active curationof its content by others, for better or worse, as society’s values evolve.

Emotional and Legacy Aspects

Beyond law and commerce, there’s an emotional narrative to a book’s posthumous life - for readers, publishers, and those who knew the author:

For Readers

A book can take on deep sentimental value once the author is gone. Fans often express that re-reading a late author’s stories feels like keeping a part of them alive. In the words of Victorians, authors achieve a form of “eternal life” through their works. Especially in children’s writing, where books often shape young imaginations, knowing the author has died can make the story feel like a timeless gift left behind. Readers might form tribute book clubs, online forums, or fan art in honor of the author. After Dr. Seuss (Theodor Geisel) died, annual events like “Read Across America Day” on his birthday became popular, celebrating his books to inspire new generations.

For Publishers and Community

Those who worked with the author often feel a duty to protect and honour their legacy. Editors write heartfelt forewords in new editions, explaining what it was like to work with the author. Bookstores set up memorial displays. These actions aren’t only marketing – they’re also the literary world’s way of mourning and paying respects through celebration of the work

In the case of children’s authors, there’s often a community element: charities, schools, or hospitals may do events around the author’s characters (e.g. Great Ormond Street Hospital holds an annual “Peter Pan Week” fundraiser to honor Barrie’s gifttheguardian.com). Such events recognize the emotional bond people have with stories that shaped their childhood.

For Family/Inspirations

Sometimes the people closest to a story have the most complex emotional journey after the author’s death. The author’s family or the real-life individuals who inspired fictional characters may feel pride in the book’s enduring success, or they may feel burdened or wronged by it. We’ll see two poignant examples of this below: Christopher Robin Milne, who struggled with being the famous namesake of Winnie-the-Pooh, and the family who inspired Peter Pan, who faced tragic circumstances. These cases show that a beloved book’s legacy can be a blessing and a curse to those intimately connected with its creation.

Legacy Organisation

In some instances, the author’s death leads to the formation of foundations or charities in their name, which can shape how their books are remembered. For example, after Roald Dahl died, his family eventually used part of the fortune from his book rights to set up charitable trusts focusing on children’s health and anti-hate causes Similarly, Beatrix Potter’s estate helped preserve farmland in England’s Lake District (since her will left her property to the National Trust), indirectly promoting her literary legacy by preserving the landscapes that inspired her Peter Rabbit tales. These efforts add an emotional resonance, readers know that buying or reading the book contributes to a larger positive impact, keeping the author’s values alive.

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To illustrate how these legal, cultural, and emotional elements come together, let’s look at a couple of famous case histories in children’s publishing where an author’s death was the beginning of a new chapter for their book:

J.M. Barrie and Peter Pan

A bronze statue of Peter Pan and Tinker Bell at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, commemorating J.M. Barrie’s enduring gift.

When J.M. Barrie died in 1937, he left Peter Pan as a story that would never grow old, literally and figuratively. Legally, Barrie had already ensured the boy who wouldn’t grow up would support children forever: in 1929 he bequeathed all rights to Peter Pan to Great Ormond Street Hospital, a children’s hospital. For as long as the work remained under copyright, the hospital received royalties from every production, edition, or adaptation of Peter Pan. This was a remarkable arrangement; newspapers in 1929 estimated Barrie’s donation would yield about £2,000 per year for the hospital (around £90,000 a year in today’s money). Over the decades, Peter Pan became a staple of children’s reading and pop culture, spawning plays, Disney films, spin-offs like Hook and Finding Neverland, and mountains of merchandise, all while benefiting a children’s charity. By the 2000s, however, Barrie’s copyright was expiring (70 years after his death, as per UK law) and Peter Pan was set to enter the public domain globally. Fearing the loss of this funding, GOSH lobbied for a unique exception. The UK government responded: thanks to an amendment in the 1988 Copyright Act, Great Ormond Street Hospital was granted an everlasting right in the UK to royalties from Peter Pan performances and adaptations. In other words, Peter Pan is public domain in most places now, but in the UK any production still morally (and legally) owes a nod to the hospital. This is a one-of-a-kind case, often cited in copyright debates about how long protection should lastt.

It shows an author’s death can turn a book into a living charity.

Beyond the legal legacy, the Peter Pan story has a bittersweet human legacy. Barrie’s inspiration for the tale came in part from tragedy and his relationship with the five Llewelyn Davies boys (the “Lost Boys” who inspired Peter and the Darling brothers). Barrie had befriended these boys and became their guardian when their parents died young. He poured his love for them into Peter Pan. Yet the boys’ later lives were marked by misfortune. George Llewelyn Davies, the eldest (a model for the character of George Darling), was killed in action in WWI at age 21. Michael Llewelyn Davies, whom Barrie was especially close to and who heavily inspired Peter Pan’s character, drowned in 1921 just before turning 21, in what is widely believed to have been a suicide pact with a school friend. Another of the brothers, Peter Llewelyn Davies, the very namesake of Peter Pan – struggled in adulthood with the weight of being “Peter Pan” in real life. He became a publisher but was said to be haunted by the association; in 1960 he died by suicide at age 63. It’s heartbreaking that the children who helped bring Peter Pan to life faced such darkness (even Barrie’s own life had tragic notes – as a child, Barrie had lost an older brother David in an accident, which inspired the idea of a boy who never grows up, forever remembered as a boy. These tragedies lend a poignant layer to Peter Pan’s legacy: the story brought joy to millions of children and tangible help to sick kids, but it was born from and intertwined with real grief. Readers often sense a certain melancholy beneath Peter’s whimsy, “to die will be an awfully big adventure,” Peter Pan says, which feels eerily fitting given the fates of the boys who inspired him. Nonetheless, Barrie’s wish was that Peter Pan remain a force for good. Thanks to his gift, even after the author’s death the book has literally saved lives, he royalties funded hospital care, and the story of the boy who never grew up lives on in theaters, nurseries, and imaginations everywhere, an immortal legacy.

A.A. Milne and Winnie-the-Pooh

Author A.A. Milne ’s family life inspired Winnie-the-Pooh, but the bestselling much loved book had complex effects on those involved. Alan Alexander (A.A.) Milne, who died in 1956, is another children’s author whose creation took on a life of its own beyond him,in ways both wonderful and difficult. Legally, Milne’s death set in motion a chain of events that turned Winnie-the-Pooh into a marketing empire. Milne had left his literary rights to his widow Daphne and a trust (benefiting their family and institutions like the Royal Literary Fund. Just a few years after Milne’s death, his estate agreed to license rights to a filmmaker who would transform Pooh forever: Walt Disney. In 1961, Disney acquired the rights from Milne’s estate (and a prior licensing agent) to use Winnie-the-Pooh in film and animation.

Disney went on to produce cartoons that made Pooh, Tigger, Piglet and friends globally recognisable, far beyond the readership of the books. This brought tremendous commercial success, by some estimates Winnie-the-Pooh became a $6 billion/year franchise for Disney. Over the years, the Milne estate continued to earn royalties from Disney’s use of the characters, until Disney ultimately bought out the estate’s remaining rights in 2001 for $350. Part of that payout even established a charitable trust for Milne’s disabled granddaughter, and bolstered literary funds in the UK. In essence, Winnie-the-Pooh transitioned from a quaint set of stories about a boy and his toys into a corporate-owned megabrand. This shows how, after an author’s death, a children’s book can expand far beyond its humble origins, but also raises questions. Milne never anticipated theme-park rides and horror movie spoofs (yes, a horror parody Pooh movie emerged once U.S. copyrights expired). It’s a reminder that once the original creator is gone, their work can be steered in directions they didn’t imagine, for better (beloved films) or occasionally odd (public domain free-for-alls).

Culturally, Winnie-the-Pooh’s post-Milne journey is largely a happy one – millions cherish Pooh Bear, and the stories are classics. Emotionally, however, the legacy was hard on the very child it was based on: Christopher Robin. Christopher Robin Milne was A.A. Milne’s only son, and as a little boy he was the Christopher Robin character in the Pooh books. During Milne’s lifetime, the fame was welcomed at first, young Christopher enjoyed being the model for a beloved character. But as he grew up, it turned into a “love-hate relationship” with his fictional alter ego. Classmates bullied him, teasing that he was the storybook boy; he took boxing lessons to defend himself. By age 9, being Christopher Robin had become an embarrassment and burden at school. Later, as a young adult, Christopher felt that his father had exploited his childhood for literary fame. In his memoir he wrote with bitterness that his father “had got where he was by climbing on my infant shoulders … filched from me my good name and left me with nothing but the empty fame of being his son.”This quote reveals how the book’s success cast a long shadow on Christopher’s own identity. After A.A. Milne’s death, the rift in the family persisted – Christopher became estranged from his mother Daphne. In fact, he saw her only once in the 15 years after his father died, and she refused to see him when she was dieing.Clearly, Winnie-the-Pooh’s legacy was a double-edged sword for the Milnes: the world adored the books, but the family behind the story was fractured by them.

Happily, Christopher Robin Milne did eventually make peace with Pooh. In his later years, he acknowledged that he wasn’t angry anymore and even came to appreciate the positive side of the stories. He donated his original stuffed animals (including Winnie the bear himself) to the New York Public Library, letting generations of children enjoy them. By the time Christopher died in 1996, he was reportedly content and understood that although he personally struggled, the Winnie-the-Pooh books had brought joy to so many. For readers, knowing this backstory adds a layer of poignancy when reading the books – the Hundred Acre Wood was real to one little boy, and it wasn’t always a fairy tale for him. Yet the emotional truth behind Pooh gives the stories even more depth, reminding us that they were rooted in a father’s love for his child, complicated by the pressures of fame.

Winnie-the-Pooh shows what can happen to a book after its author’s death: the rights can shift to new hands and massively commercialise the creation, even as the human legacy of the story continues to evolve. The author is gone, but their work continues to grow, sometimes in directions they never anticipated. And at the heart of it, the original emotional core – the friendship of a boy and his bear – remains immortal.

Roald Dahl - A Modern Legacy

Finally, to consider a more modern example: Roald Dahl, famed for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, The BFG and other children’s classics, died in 1990. What happened to his books afterward illustrates many of the above points in real time:

Estate Management and Sale

Dahl’s family managed his literary estate through the Roald Dahl Story Company (RDSC) for several decades, during which Dahl’s books continued to be bestsellers and were adapted into many films: Matilda, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory twice, The Witches). In 2021, in one of the biggest deals in publishing history, Netflix purchased the entire Roald Dahl estate, effectively buying the rights to all his stories.

This gave Netflix full control to produce content across films, TV, games, live events, and more based on Dahl’s works. The deal underscored how valuable a late author’s work was to be in the streaming era (Dahl’s books have sold over 300 million copies and been translated into 60+ languages. It also ensured Dahl’s stories will be reimagined for new audiences for many years to come, long after hisdeath

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Cultural Updates and Controversies

Dahl’s legacy has needed careful tending due to some outdated or offensive aspects of his writing and personal views. As mentioned earlier, in 2023 the owners of Dahl’s works (in collaboration with his publisher) made headlines by editing portions of the texts to be more inclusive (removing derogatory or insensitive terms.

This move, done with the stated intent of ensuring Dahl’s stories “continue to be enjoyed by all children today,” was coordinated by the Dahl estate and publishing team It led to debate about how far one should go in altering an author’s words posthumously. The fact that the Dahl estate felt empowered to do this highlights that once an author is no longer around, those in charge of the work may update or change it in response to cultural shifts, something not possible (or thinkable) while the author was alive, especially if they were protective of their text. On the other hand, Dahl’s family also took steps to protect his reputation: in 2020, they issued a public apology for Dahl’s past antisemitic remarks, trying to separate the value of his imaginative stories from the flaws of the man. These actions show an estate acting almost as a steward of the author’s legacy, making decisions about how the books fit into the modern world.

Charitable Legacy

When Netflix bought the Dahl rights, Dahl’s grandchildren announced that a significant part of the proceeds (which were enormous) would go to charity, focusing on children’s health and anti-hate initiatives. In this way, Dahl’s stories, much like Barrie’s Peter Pan, are now indirectly funding good causes, turning some of the posthumous profits toward real-world positive impact. It’s another example of how a book can have a life after death that aligns with the values we want to champion today.

Roald Dahl’s case is still unfolding (Netflix is in the process of developing Dahl-based projects). It serves as a contemporary mirror to those older examples: a children’s book outlives its author and continues to entertain, provoke, and even challenge new generations. The form in which the book lives on may change – from print to movies to interactive experiences – but the core stories remain influential.

When an author dies, their book’s journey is far from over. Legally, the story passes into new hands but often remains under protection for many years, generating income and opportunities that the author’s heirs or chosen beneficiaries manage. Culturally, the book can gain a heightened profile – it may sell more, spawn adaptations, or be reinterpreted as society evolves. Emotionally, the book becomes part of the author’s legacy, a way for readers to remember and honor them. In children’s publishing especially, beloved books tend to grow after the author’s death: they become classics read by each new generation, they inspire films or merchandise that bring the characters to even wider audiences, and they often carry forward the author’s desire to bring joy or wisdom to children. In some cases, they even carry forward the author’s philanthropic spirit, as we saw with Peter Pan’s hospital royalties and Dahl’s charitable trust.

Ultimately, a great book can be a form of immortality for its author. Long after the writer is gone, the book lives on – on library shelves and bedroom bookshelves, in classrooms and on screens, in the hearts of readers and the fabric of popular culture. Its ownership might change and its presentation might be updated, but its essence – the story – continues to enchant or enlighten. The author’s voice echoes every time someone opens the book. As J.M. Barrie once wrote in Peter Pan,

Go Beyond the Secret Garden: What Happens to Characters When Authors Die?

She lifted the curtain, stepped outside, and the story ended. Or did it?

And what if we want to go beyond the garden gate?

Literary Afterlives and the Question of Ownership

When Frances Hodgson Burnett died in 1924, she left behind The Secret Garden, the now-well known children’s novel that has become stage, screen, and reinterpretation in different ways. But like many classics, it carries the assumptions of its time: class privilege, empire, and a largely unexamined colonial gaze.

Once an author is gone, their intentions can no longer police the borders of the text. Their characters - like ghosts - become fair game for interpretation, reinvention, even confrontation. In an age of remix culture and historical reckoning, reimagining familiar stories isn't just allowed. It’s often necessary.

Colin Craven

Imagine flipping The Secret Garden inside-out.

Instead of following Mary Lennox from India to Yorkshire, we reverse the journey. Colin Craven, once a sickly boy transformed by fresh air and friendship, grows into a man - and is sent to colonial India as a newly appointed Collector.

At first glance, this is a natural extension of his arc: the privileged son of an aristocratic family, now fulfilling his destiny in the service of empire.

But what if the story isn’t his?

What if the real narrators are the ayah and the gardener, unnamed in the original book, who witnessed the quiet collapse of an English household as an epidemic tore through a military town? We never knew what happened to teh ayah, everything about Inida in The Secret Garden is fairly unleasant - death, disease...

What if it is their voices we hear as Colin returns - not as the redeemer, but as part of the unfinished business of colonial history?

Going Beyond the Garden: How Backstory Becomes Front Story

The idea of backstory is usually limited to understanding a character’s past. But in this reimagining, it becomes something else entirely:

• A lens through which to critique inherited power.

• A stage for exploring mixed heritage, cultural tension, and historical repair.

• A mirror that reflects what the original story omitted.

  
  

We meet Colin again, perhaps arriving with a new wife - either English, to preserve status, or half-Indian, to complicate it. He takes up residence in the decaying bungalow. The ayah is summoned again to care for the children. And from her perspective, the new family is just the latest in a long cycle of forgetting.

As the garden grows again, she remembers Mary Lennox - the strange, isolated girl whose parents died of cholera. She remembers the secrets, the cruelties, the silence.

And this time, she tells the story.

United States

First published in 1911. U.S. copyright expired in 1986 (or possibly 1987, depending on renewal timing), placing the work in the public domain.

United Kingdom

Burnett died in 1924. Under UK law (Life of the Author + 70 years), copyright expired at the end of 1994., The Secret Garden became public domain in the UK on 1 January 1995

What being in the public domain means:

• You can freely copy, distribute, adapt, or publish the original 1911 text within both the UK and US.

• Illustrations, annotations, translations, modern typesetting, or adaptations based on that original text may still be protected - only the original text itself is free to use.

Why It Matters: Reclamation, Resistance, and Remembrance

This approach does something important. It doesn’t erase the original. It repositions it.

It allows readers and writers - especially those who were excluded from traditional narratives - to engage with characters on new terms. It recognises that fiction, like history, is often written by the winners.

But time allows us to tilt the lens.

Going beyond the garden means:

• Acknowledging the unnamed.

• Giving voice to the overlooked.

• Imagining growth in neglected soil.

  
  

How You Can Try This

1. Pick a character from a classic.

2. Reverse the lens: whose story wasn’t told?

3. Change the location, the perspective, or the stakes.

4. Let history inform your reimagining - what was happening around the story that didn’t make it onto the page?

5. Ask yourself: What would it mean for this character to grow up, grow old, or grow aware?

   
   

One More Thing…

If you ever find yourself asking “can I do this with someone else’s character?” the answer is: not commercially within the timeline of copyright. But creatively? Morally? Culturally?

You must.

Because sometimes the most radical thing you can do is give voice to the character who was never meant to speak.

No one really dies as long as they are remembered.

Authors are remembered through their books, and so in the pages of their stories, they never truly die. Their characters keep running off to Neverland or exploring the Hundred Acre Wood, inviting us along, generation after generation.

David Salariya is a living author. He’s also an illustrator, former publisher, and Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, with more than forty years in the business of making books, many of which are still on shelves, in print, or resurfacing in second-hand shops. As the creator and designer of You Wouldn’t Want To Be…, A Very Peculiar History, and the Graffex graphic novels, David has spent a career breathing life into the past. These days, he writes about books that outlive their makers, characters who refuse to stay dead, and the strange immortality of the printed page.