Can we read? No. 5
This has been, thus far, the heaviest year of my life. I’m guessing I’m not alone in that sentiment. As such, I have found myself reading even more than usual (which is kind of saying something), in an attempt to ground myself, to burrow down — in a healthy, comforting way — into who I know I am, what I know I am made of (the good and the bad). It’s surprising to me — though I don’t know why it should be — how often I pick up children’s books to find solace. I actually read quite a few picture books without my children — not just pouring over the new stuff in my full laundry basket from the library (somehow I manage a full basket even with the pickup system), but even when I have no business taking a minute to pick up a book. Maybe it’s the same kind of therapy I derive from adult books but in more minute form — rather than taking days to elicit that kind of consolation, it takes a handful of moments.
Succor sometimes comes from odd places. (I have mentioned that Big Momma Makes the World by Phyllis Root, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury is strangely fitting for these times, and that holds up, nearly three months later.) I don’t know where I’m going with this except to say, let’s all keep breathing in and out. Let’s not forget what we’re made of (coffee, a truly mind-boggling number of bacteria, stardust). Whatever brings you support, relief, ease, know that our sojourn in this place — this moment in life, all moments in life — is temporary, always, and that we are much more capable than we think.
Now, books.
Please, Puppy, Please by Spike Lee and Tanya Lewis Lee, illustrated by Kadir Nelson (2005)
Let me be clear in saying that anything Kadir Nelson illustrates, I am 110% here for: doesn’t matter what it is, he’s unthinkably talented. And his contribution to the “please” books by the Lees — this title, along with its 2002 predecessor, Please, Baby, Please — only add to the pure, realistic fun to be found here. Beloved by readers both in my house and out, this title follows two children as they spend the day with their new puppy, who is a new puppy in every way (read: chaos and disorder reign, they spend every page saying, “Please, puppy, please!” don’t run away, get muddy, shake off when you’re wet.) If you have a little little — 1-3 years, don’t hesitate, just buy these.
Mr. Gumpy’s Outing by John Burningham (1965)
The premise of this title is simple: Mr. Gumpy is going somewhere, and the children and the animals want to come too. Mr. Gumpy lays out his terms: basically, okay, you can come, but only if you don’t make too much noise or rock the boat or act a fool. Everyone agrees, and everyone fails — of course — so the boat gets rocked, as boats tend to do. Burningham’s fuzzy line drawings add to the romping feel here (he does the same, to equal effect, in the 1973 sequel, Mr. Gumpy’s Motor Car, which has essentially the same storyline except in a car). This is another one of those books that children love though I don’t entirely understand why, except, I guess there is appeal in watching one thing building upon another and another: that’s how most of life (and boat-rocking) happens, after all.
Over in the Meadow by John Langstaff, illustrated by Feodor Stepanovich Rojankovsky (1957)
A popular counting rhyme written by a woman named Olive A. Wadsworth in 1870, the words (there are many variations) were eventually set to music, so yes, this is another singing book, and yes, if you don’t sing while you read it, what is wrong with you? There are several different versions of this book — none other than the great Ezra Jack Keats took this one on, though the other title I prefer besides the one here is illustrated by Anna Vojtech — but this one remains our most beloved because of Rojankovsky’s illustrations, which look like something out of a charming children’s science textbook (I mean that in the best way).
Hedgie’s Surprise by Jan Brett (2000)
It’s nearly heresy to admit, but sometimes I could take or leave Jan Brett. My six-year-old, however, vehemently disagrees and appreciates Brett for the master artist she is: if you are not familiar with any of her books, it’s almost impossible to describe the incredibly detailed, luxuriant quality of her illustrations. She is unparalleled at providing clues about what will happen next — most of her books do this in the margins, and it is truly delightful — and for offering a superabundance of information without words. Hedgie’s Surprise is no different in this sense, but it’s my favorite Brett book because of its sweet story of friendship and just deserts: a nasty tomten keeps stealing eggs from a chicken who just wants to keep them for herself, until her clever and composed hedgehog friend devises a plan to help her out. This is such a satisfying read.
National Geographic Book of Animal Poetry: 200 Poems with Photographs that Squeak, Soar, and Roar!, edited by J. Patrick Lewis (2012)
We read a lot of poetry (if you have never done or attended a poetry teatime, I cannot recommend them enough) so I know almost immediately what’s going to please my children’s tastes in this department, and this one was a winner from the moment I picked it up. The poets themselves are well-known — their body of work certainly leans toward the last 50-60 years, and the language is all completely accessible to contemporary children and adults — so much of what normally scares people away from poetry doesn’t exist here. This book is exactly as advertised — animal poetry accompanied by National Geographic photographs — and that really tells you all you need to know about the quality within. I highly recommend this if you don’t know where to start with children’s poetry. What kid doesn’t like poring over pictures of animals? Then you just sneak in some beautiful words on the side.
“Over in the meadow in a room in a house lived a woman slowly going crazy but using this newsletter as a very enjoyable panacea…” Thanks for reading, people.