Martin Pebble

by Jean-Jacques Sempe
translated by Anthea Bell
Phaidon 2006
Originally published in France as Marcellin Caillou
Editions Denoel 1969

Martin Pebble is a charming little boy normal in all respects except for the fact that for no reason at all he blushes. He blushes when he shouldn't and doesn't when he should, all of it out of his control. Doctors promise cures but in the end Martin's condition remains unchanged.

One day he meets a new neighbor, a boy named Roddy Rocket who, for no reason whatsoever, sneezes uncontrollably. Martin and Roddy recognize soul mates in each other and from that day on they are inseparable. Overlooking each others differences they play together, share illnesses and become each other's champions.

When Roddy's family moves suddenly a letter with their new address intended for Martin is lost. Martin tries to lives his days as before but without his best friend the places and moments they once shared feel empty.

Martin grows to be a man who continues to blush uncontrollably. It still catches him off guard and is occasionally an embarrassment, but nothing he hasn't gotten used to. One day at a bus stop he hears the unmistakable sneeze of his childhood friend Roddy. They meet up and discover that despite the years they have remained their same old selves. They return to their familiar haunts, their old play, returning to their old routines as though the years between had never happened. Of course they are older and cannot keep the old paces but they are just as comfortable as they once were just sitting silently in each other's company, passing the hours.

And their boys have grown to be just like them in every way, inseparable friends, one who blushes and one who sneezes.



Sempe tells Martin and Roddy's story in a way that seems alien by today's standards; in small pictures surrounded by lots of blank space, the barest of spot color (usually Martin's red face), and over the course of 120 pages. The tone and presentation is perfect, telling Martin's simple story with a measured pacing. It isn't necessarily poetic, though it does focus on the quieter details of childhood friendships. There is something, oh, I don't know, French about how much story is told without seeming like there's any story there at all.

In a lot of ways I almost wonder if the book works with kids at all. There is an underlying nostalgia to the story that isn't the sort of thing a picture book reader is going to be familiar with, and the latter section of the book that deals with the adult versions of Martin and Roddy might just as easily bore a young reader. No, I don't think it is boring, only that picture book stories that feature grown men trying to relive their youthful exuberances probably isn't going to register.

If the illustrations look familiar you may be confusing his work with that of American illustrator R.O. Blechman whose wiggly line style is similar and not at the same time. No, Sempe is the artist many know for his little spot drawings for Rene Goscinny's Nicholas books which, happily, are currently being reprinted in this country again and are highly recommended if they haven't already crossed your radar.

Martin Pebble is probably one of those picture books best appreciated by adults, much the same as Dr. Seuss' later books (Oh! the Places You'll Go, You're Only Old Once) are primarily purchased by adults for adults. Seeing as this is graduation time perhaps Martin Pebble would make a nice alternative for the adult who appreciates picture books and would like a nice little message that isn't trying so hard.

The Dangerous Book for Boys

by Conn Iggulden and Hal Iggulden
HarperCollins 2007

Do not be fooled into believing this is a cute title appended to a harmless book. This book is for boys and it is dangerous. Here is your proof, from the tiny type on the copyright page:

Note to parents: This book contains a number of activities which may be dangerous if not done exactly as directed or which may be inappropriate for young children. All of the activities should be carried out under adult supervision only. The authors and publishers expressly disclaim liability for any injury or damages that may result from engaging in the activities contained in this book.

In other words: If you have a boy, be a parent and raise them in ways that make legal disclaimers like this unnecessary.

Seriously though, boys by their very nature are curious and like to explore their world on their own terms. Yes, parental supervision is good, but so is a boy who knows how to cautiously explore the edges of his abilities. It can be a great thing for a boy and a parent to bond over, say, the building of a tree house or a go-cart but it is a greater joy for a boy to go out and learn how to master his own world.

This book is an update of the kind of American Boy's Handy Book that was published at the turn of the century, and much of what is in here wouldn't have been out of place a hundred years ago. Here's a sampling from the table of contents:

• The seven wonders of the ancient world
• Five knots every boy should know
• Making a bow and arrow
• Famous battles
• U.S. Naval flag codes
• Navajo code talker's dictionary
• Understanding grammar
• Girls
• Making cloth fireproof
• Secret inks
• Navigation
• The Declaration of Independence
• Dog tricks
• Coin tricks
• Seven poems every boy should know
• How to play poker
• A brief history of artillery
• The Ten Commandments
• Common trees
• Five pen-and-paper games
• The game of chess
• Books every boy should read
• growing sunflowers

That these topics are and have been of interest to boys speaks to their evergreen nature. Did I mention that was a partial list?

I have a couple of favorite little things about this book. First, it begins with a list of essential items a boy should have. A pocket knife is first, and the book is modern enough to point out that pocket knives can still be carried on checked luggage at the airport. A little further down the list a pencil and paper are recommended in case "...you see a crime and want to write down a license plate number or a description... or a shopping list." Just that someone out there is planting the seed of a child always having something to write on is enough to help spawn a more literate generation, or at least one that copies down the latest fart jokes they've heard.

A little further down the list is a magnifying glass "for general interest. Can also be used to start a fire." Exactly. Don't pretend we don't know why boys love these essential tools. Sure, the could try to make flameproof cloth and then try to burn it with a magnifying glass. They might even lob off one of their fingers in the process with a pocket knife. But, again, there is little to fear if they have been raised properly.

I have to admit, I was a little surprised by the selection of poems every boy should know. Most of these I was forced to memorize in the 7th grade and I can't say it was always a pleasant experience. Following each poem there is a paragraph explaining the poem and it's importance and provide an opportunity to help round out a boy's street education with something a little more refined. The poems?

IF by Kipling
Ozymandias by Shelley
Selections from Song of Myself by Whitman
Invictus by Henley
Vitae Lampada by Newbolt
The Road Not Taken by Frost
Sea-Fever by Masefield

Pretty deadly stuff for boys, perhaps even dangerous, no? Personally I'd have liked to see maybe a Robert Service poem, or something with a little swash and buckle. I have buried in the archives a book entitled Songs of Men and there's some sea chanteys and other rugged bits of verse that would have easily fit it. Maybe a cowboy ballad.

When my girls are a little older I'm probably going to let them have a go at this book as well. We'll build a tree house and make bows and arrows and catch bugs in old jars. After all, what might be dangerous for boys is perfectly harmless in the hands of a girl. That's probably the best way I can spin that.

I'm the Biggest Thing in the Ocean

by Kevin Sherry
Dial/Penguin 2007

Spoiler alert: Honestly, I feel it's a bit much to forewarn of a spoiler on a picture book, but when I picked this jolly little thing up I wasn't prepared for the twist and actually laughed. out. loud. If you would like a chance at the same ignore this review right now and go check it out for yourself. I'm not saying you will find it as funny as I did, only that I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have laughed if I'd known where this story was headed. The spoiler comes after the illustration below.

Shall we proceed?

The giant blue Squid, presented in huge cartoon-y close-ups, very dramatically announces what we pretty much know: that s/he is big. Squid then goes about bragging about all the other creatures in the ocean that s/he is bigger than. Bigger than shrimp. Bigger than clams. Bigger than jellyfish and turtles. Bigger than this fish, and that fish and this and that fish.

At last, like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic, Squid calls down the wrath of fate by announcing that s/he is the biggest thing in the ocean.

























At which point Squid is swallowed by a whale.

Poor Squid. A quick inventory of the whale's belly shows Squid in good company, surrounded by all the other creatures of the sea. In the end Squid perks up and his last words are presented in a word balloon coming from the belly of the whale leaping from the water.

"I'm the biggest thing inside this whale!"

Any fan of Lane Smith's The Happy Hocky Family might recognize the optimism of Baby Hocky in Squid's final declaration. Or perhaps it's the brighter side of a superiority complex.

There's a note in the back where the artist claims to have sandwiched watercolor backgrounds, paper cut-outs and ink lined drawings between sheets of glass for the final effect, which seems like the hard way to do what a lot of Photoshop effects can accomplish. Then again, it does have a very organic feel and I wouldn't be surprised if that was Sherry's method, though I sincerely doubt his claim that the glass was pried from old pirate ships and the ink is 100% squid.

Sherry is something of a youngster. At 24 he's the youngest author signed to Dial with a three-book contract. I pulled this article while trying to find out more about him. He seems like one of those nice young talented kids who make things look effortless. I'm going to let my jealousy go with this one and just enjoy it.

Grimmoire 43: Mother Trudy

I'm just going to call this one Dumb As a Stump.

A girl is told to stay away from Mother Trudy.

But the girl goes to visit Frau Trude anyway to find out what all the fuss is about. When she reaches Mother Trudy's door she is ashen as she meets the old woman. When asked to explain what is troubling her the girl says she has seen a black man on her stairs. Mother Trudy insists it was just an old coal burner. A green man is waved off as a huntsman, a blood red man is merely a butcher and then, just before the girl knocked on Mother Trudy's door, she saw the Devil through the window prancing around.
The jig is up. Mother Trudy turns the girl into a block of wood and tosses her into the fire.

"That really does give off a bright light," Frau Trude remarks. Dim in life, bright in death, dumb as a stump.

I will say this, as cautionary tales go it's at least short and to the point. If you are told to stay away from the old witch, then stay away. I am a little curious as to why, if the people knew that Mother Trudy was as bad as all that why they just didn't tell our dim little star that the Devil lived in the house. Would she have been equally curious? After all, having seen the Devil through the window she continued on to knock on the door.

Unless her family wanted her to go visit Mother Trudy, knowing that her curiosity would get the better of her. Seems a bit harsh as population control

Summer Reading, Part One: Low Humor

I believe in summer reading. Some of the best memories I have about my summers growing up were the times spent at the local libraries, taking books home on a lazy afternoon and reading until my eyes got blurry or my stomach grumbled. I wasn't a shut-in or a book worm -- I would play pick-up games with kids on the block, or down at the park -- but I did spend a lot of time to myself because I was fairly insecure and introspective.

Things have changed and now my kids don't just go a couple doors down to play with their friends, they request play dates which need to be coordinated with other parents. The idea of walking down to the local park and hanging out with other kids was predicated on an environment where neighbors looked after one another and the local park had a paid supervisor to check out balls, games, lanyard materials and whatnot. And the summer reading of my youth, always self-directed and rarely encouraged by my mother, has been replaced with a formalized list of titles handed out at the end of the school year for elementary school kids to stress over as they tussle with parents over having their "fun" summer taken away from them.

Along with the myth that homework actually helps children perform better at school, assigned summer reading sounds to me like a clever way to make kids hate books at an earlier age than they might normally. I don't look back at those summers where I would devour books as a punishment, and my girls currently don't seem to have a problem seeking out a new book the minute they finish another, yet when those lists come out and we look over the titles and descriptions of recommended reading there's always a sense of resentment from all parties.

Why are we molding children as young as 8 to accept that summer is a time to "get ahead?" Won't they get enough of this pressure come high school? And why does the material always need to pass some bar of appropriateness, not just for reading level but for content? Is there no room for "play" in summer reading?

No. I mean, yes, there is room for play in summer reading. If there isn't, room should be made. To this end I am always in praise of low humor and the types of reading materials often regarded as pop or junk culture and always inconsequential. Since the end of World War II it seems there has always been a voice decrying low humor and popular culture in favor of more refined works. After half a century perhaps we ought to acknowledge that a large portion of the population -- I'm looking at you, Boomers -- have ingested and devoured a fair amount of this inferior printed matter and have been none the worse for it. I see no reason to continue to demonize it any further.

Classic MAD Magazine Paperbacks

I grew up on Mad magazine. I read plenty of other humor and comic magazines along the way but it always comes back to Mad because it taught me more than most adults would like to admit or give it credit for teaching. Yes, I was a boy, and there's a fair amount of boy-friendly gross-out humor involved, but what else was teaching me social and political satire? How else would I learn about the value (or lack thereof) of popular culture like moves, television and music were it not through their jabbing, critical parodies? Highlighting the inanities of stereotypes and skewering authority skirted the edge of political correctness but in those humorous examinations of human folly I came to understand my own points of view, began to formulate my own opinions and had a good laugh in the process.

Currently Mad magazine seems to be suffering. Mad's parent company was acquired over time by Time Warner but the magazine was allowed to run independently until it's founding editor William M. Gaines died in 1992. Since then corporate elements have slowly taken over in an attempt to make the magazine more of a fiscal asset. When the magazine, famous for taking on the absurdities of American advertising, began accepting ads themselves in 2001 most readers, young and old, recognized that Mad was dead. Long live MAD!

My local libraries had spinner racks filled with paperback books and among those were the collections from Mad. Some were artist-centric collections and others were thematic, all of them chock full of material that had appeared in the magazine in the (at that time) 20-plus years of its history. For me there were three artists whose books never failed, whose various approaches to humorous illustration still hold up all these years later: Don Martin, Al Jaffee and Sergio Aragones.

The late Don Martin, nicknamed Mad's Maddest Artist, drew characters with elongated faces and hinged feet and often frozen in some of the most exaggerated "takes" this side of Tex Avery. While Martin's work for the magazine was often single-page comic style stories his books contained longer stories that often poked fun at a number of genres, particularly those based on movies. Al Jaffe, the master of the back cover fold-ins for the magazine, is best known for his "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions" series, something anyone who works or has worked in retail or customer service can appreciate. It might seem like teaching children how to come up with sarcastic retorts could backfire the larger lesson in these books is to think before asking the unnecessary question in the first place. Finally, Sergio Aragones was the created of the "marginals" the little illustrations tucked in around the corners of the pages of the magazines. In book form his comics dealt in the visual humor of silent movies, a universal humor where the punchline often hinged on the flipping of a stereotype or expectation.

These books were last reprinted back in the 1990's and can be found used usually for under a dollar. For the price of two new paperbacks (one for each of my girls) I can get 8 to 10 of these books, which they will share. Value is a good thing when you're feeding hungry readers.

Comic Strip Collections: Peanuts, Calvin and Hobbes, &c.

Last year we introduced the girls to Calvin and Hobbes but it only really took with my oldest. An excellent comic overall, if a child already hasn't discovered this gem from previous safaris through the library then I highly recommend it. The play between the real and imagined worlds within the comic and Bill Watterson's magnificent draftsmanship make this a winner, and I don't begrudge Watterson for stopping the cartoon at the height of its popularity so he could go out on a high note. It can be a tricky comic to introduce -- my youngest needed to initially have the two worlds explained to her -- but reaps rewards in revisiting themes that call on a reader to remember personality and character traits from earlier strips. Actually, this is true of most daily comic strips, but few are as gratifying or as deceptively simple as Calvin and Hobbes.

Naturally, the grandaddy of them all would be the Peanuts collection, a seemingly endless series of collected dailies currently being captured in annual volumes by Fantagraphics Books, the comic book publisher. There is a certain charm to the Peanuts strips though after all these years I am starting to feel that their genteel quality is showing its age. Charles Schulz kept adults out of his strips (with one or two rare exceptions) and sparingly used pop culture references which has helped to keep them evergreen. For kids who think they have seen it all it's sometimes fun to bust out some "old school" on them and watch them enjoy it.

I remember the summer I found a yard sale and discovered the paperback collections of The Wizard of Id and B.C., the strip collections of Johnny Hart and Brant Parker. I'm not recommending these books directly except to suggest that there's something to be said about "discovering" something not put in front of you. I had a dollar bill burning a whole in my pocket and that was the price of a whole stack of these paperbacks - 17 in total. You feel like you've robbed a bank when you walk away from a sale with an armload of books like that and I'm always on the lookout for another great deal like that. When I finished with those books I hit the library up for the others in the series they had (which I somehow never noticed before) and then started paying more attention to yard sales. And the comics pages of newspapers, which brought me more reading. Some lessons are learned in books and some are learned in consuming them.

None of this is great literature, though much of it is classic pop culture from the 20th century. Reading comics requires a different set of skills, a combination of reading and observing, drawing pictorial conclusions and making visual analogies. It isn't something we teach children (though we ought to) but it is a language unto itself that teaches the reader as it goes.

There are plenty of other possibilities among the ranks of what has generally been relegated to the lower rung of trashy pop culture. It's all part of our neglected cultural heritage.

Comic Books: Mickey Mouse, Archies, Cartoon Network, & The Great Unknown

A recent news item talks about Maryland schools adding comic books to the classroom, and Disney is the company supporting it. This has been one of my fears about the increase in comics and graphic novels, that large corporate entities would make attractive offers to schools and flood them with materials designed to build brand loyalty. Disney has a long history of being in the classroom -- Boomers will remember the filmstrips in science class about VD, Gen Xers would have seen the movie version -- so they aren't strangers to mixing educational content with humor. But when you take something like a comic book and turn it into a teaching tool you take away what's fun about the comic and you ingrain a sense of skepticism that all comics may be as dry as instructional media

No, comics are meant for the summers. They're meant for lazy afternoons in the shade (all summer reading can be an outdoor activity, weather permitting) slurping on a slushie and letting the time slip. I was never a big fan of superheroes -- I never could understand what any kid saw in these fools with their spandex outfits -- but there's plenty of other types of comics in the world. Kid-friendly titles do tend to be hokey but they also present simplified stories of character interaction. Archie Comics aren't going to break any new ground in humor -- they may be the corniest of the bunch -- but they do provide the basic vocabulary in understanding visual media, good for building those future graphic novel skills.

I recently saw a Betty comic (as in Betty and Veronica of the Archie Gang) that told a story of Betty's older sister getting an actual letter in the mail (as opposed to email) and everyone in the house was all jazzed. Turns out it was an apology note that had been lost in the post for years, and as a result Betty's sister had spent years thinking the boy was a lout for standing her up. Curious, she finds his name in the phone book and calls him (something he should have done instead of sending a note) and the upshot is they are rekindling their friendship/romance. Betty is so excited that she goes to her room to email her boyfriend the story and instead he breaks up with through instant messaging. The punchline from the parents is that while modern technology has sped up ability to communicate (and miscommunicate) it hasn't changed the simple truths about relationships, it's just made them happen faster. Very simple, hokey, kid-friendly and an easily digestable chunk of how technology has changed.

The Archie and Mickey Mouse comics families are safe but might seem a bit stale to kids already acclimated to what television offers up. For them I'm suggesting most of what the Cartoon Network has in comics form. For superhero girl power, The Powerpuff Girls work well though they recently lost their own comic and are now included in anthology comics featuring a number of stories from different shows. Sure, it does feel a bit like television show promotion, but if it comes down to a choice between watching Camp Lazlo or having them read Camp Lazlo, I'll go for the latter.

Best trick: give a child $10, take them to the comic book store and let them choose whatever $10 will buy. A number of comic book emporiums will have discounted racks or bins with back issues sometimes marked down as much as 50%. Unless the child is comic book collector chances are good it's all new to them and they could come away with quite a haul. Better still: go back to the store alone and buy another bundle and mail it to them in the middle of the summer as a surprise.

Older kids aren't going to be interested in "baby stuff" like Mickey and the Gang and will probably insist on scavenging the Japanese manga titles and standard superhero fare. Older girls may especially feel there is nothing for them in comic books (it is a pretty male dominated field) but let them browse, and ask the store employees for suggestions. There are a lot of alternative and independent comics out there with female protagonists or created by women artists. The art in these comics may look very unfinished or at least unlike most slick comic books out there, but don't let that be the guide. As with any book, the cover can only say so much, it's what's inside that matters.

If you are worried about the content that an older comic reader may be attracted to, rather than insisting on approval take a moment to look at the item in question and say "That looks interesting, I'll want to read that when you're finished with it." If there's any doubt about your approval their self-censorship will sink in and make the decision whether or not the material is appropriate. And follow-through, do read the title when they are done and try to understand the appeal without judgment, without questioning. You might learn something about your child you didn't realize, and they might also be telling you something about themselves deliberately.

Again, I believe in summer reading, but I believe that reading in the summer belongs to the individual reader. They'll get plenty of broccoli during the school year, let them gorge on dessert for a while.

* * * * *

I'm sketching out some ideas...

about the books I think about when I think about summer reading. Despite appearances here, it wasn't always about comics! I'm going to try and present some themes about a week apart, leading up to the end of the traditional school year in mid-June. In the meantime, if anyone else has some personal suggestions for non-traditional (i.e. not found in general fiction) Low Humor that is well-suited for kids (and not already in their radar) please feel free to jump into the comments.

Next Week: Part Two -- Non-fiction?

Grimmoire 41: Herr Korbes

Finally, the origin of the Agatha Christie they-all-did-it murder mystery.

Here we have another one of those stories where the animals and inanimate objects are all hanging out together. This time the Rooster and his Hen are riding in a coach and they pick up the following hitchhikers: A Cat, an Egg, a Millstone, a Duck, a Pin and a Sewing Needle. Herr Korbes house is apparently their final destination and when they arrive he is not in so they settle themselves in around the house.


As with "Riffraff" the interlopers settle in around the house and when Herr Korbes arrives gets ashes tossed in his face by the Cat, the Egg glues his eyes shut, the Duck splashes water in his face, the Pin gives him a stick in the posterior, the Sewing Needle gives him a poke in the head and just to make it all final the Millstone (who had been napping above the doorway) lands on him, crushing him flat. There is no mention of the Hen and the Rooster who I assume hightailed it out of there before they could get blamed for anything.

In checking out the internets for some relevant images I found a Spanish translation of the text that appeared to have a moral attached to the end of it.

Antes de hacer algún movimiento, es prudente observar antes cómo está todo alrededor.
Which roughly means: Before making a move it is prudent to observe ones surroundings. Odd, since the Grimm story ends with "Herr Korbes must have been a very wicked man." suggesting an entirely different moral.

Moral: Lock your doors if you're prone to animals and inanimate objects as house guests.

Roger, The Jolly Pirate

by Brett Helquist
HarperCollins 2004

Recently arrived in paperback, this is a fine chantey of a picture book that tells the humorous tale of the Roger the Pirate and his namesake flag.

Roger the pirate isn't very good at being a pirate -- not knowing his starboard from his larboard, bad at looting and all -- but he is good at being happy. When there's serious pirating to be done the captain sends Roger below decks so that Roger won't be in the way... or perhaps embarrass the crew in front of the ships they're marauding. In particular, the captain doesn't need Roger in the way while they do battle with their sworn enemy, the Admiral.

One day Roger decides to do something nice to his fellow pirates, to get them to appreciate him more: He decides to bake a cake. First a little bit of this powder that looks like flour, then a little bit of this and that, all stuffed into this thing that looks like a pot. It's hard to see locked belowdecks so Roger doesn't realize that the cake mix he's about to set a fire under is actually gunpowder on a cannon.

Boom.

Roger appears topside covered in a white powder and frantic to explain he was only tyring to do some good. The Admiral's men take one look at Roger and assume he's an undead ghost come back to take their souls. The Admiral himself gives the order to abandon ship and to Roger's stunned surprise the crew truly are pleased with him. In his honor they make the famous flag of the grinning skull and crossbones that becomes that universal symbol of pirating, the Jolly Roger.

This cheery little tale is, of course, a fiction, but Helquist does a nice job of giving the story weight by adding a song at the end that tells the same tale to what appears to be the tune "What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor." Yeah! Get the kids singing sea chanties and dancing a hornpipe!

I'm sorry I missed this book when it was first released as it's a fine example of what good illustration -- children's books or otherwise -- is all about. Extreme close-ups and cinematic angles make this great for read-aloud audiences, and the story does breeze along. I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but there are a couple of times I could have sworn Helquist included the teen aged Hook (from his cover illustration for the book Capt. Hook by J.V. Hart) among the pirate crew. Nice touch if it's true.

The only thing that saddens me is catching this after writing about Natalie Babbitt's Jack Plank Tells Tales and feeling like there's a bit of a similarity in the story of a pirate who is too happy to stay with pirates. I'm not suggesting either author copied the other, and the audiences for the two books is different, but I always feel uncomfortable when suddenly it seems like everyone had the same great idea at the same time. I'm sure neither of these authors is the first to write about "The Reluctant Pirate."

Grimmoire 40: The Robber Bridegroom

This is one of those titles that feels familiar. A little research and there's a Eudora Welty novel of the same name from 1942 based on the Grimm tale, and a Broadway musical based on the book from the mid 1970's. And the plot summaries are nothing at all like the Grimm tale.

Part campfire story, part Sweeney Todd, the story takes some of the more familiar Grimm elements (good girl, disingenuous suitor, talking birds, trail of food to find one's way home) and puts some grisly twists in for good measure.

A miller has a beautiful daughter whom he intends to marry off to the best suitor he can find. Having found one and agreed on the marriage the wedding date is set. The daughter, with no say in the matter, is skeeved out by the guy, though she nor anyone else can figure out why. She avoids her hubby-to-be as much as possible and with the wedding drawing near he insists she come visit him at his little place in the country.

She leaves a trail of peas and lentils as she makes her way into the woods. Upon finding the house she lets herself in and finds it mostly empty, save for a caged bird that sings out a warning that this is a house of robbers and she should leave. But does she?

A quick aside here: I've noticed that when robbers are mentioned in Grimm tales they tend to be something a little more serious than burglars or the stand-and-deliver highwaymen I tend to associate with stories from this era. When the Brothers Grimm say robber it might be best to substitute and assume the word sociopath or psychopath, depending on the nature of their intent. For our purposes here, the bridegroom may be a bit of both.

Exploring the house further she finds room after empty room until letting herself down into the basement where an old crone is tending a fire. The woman reiterates the bird's warning, that this is a den of robbers, and that if she stays any longer they will be home and will eat her. Too late, the robbers (the girl's future husband among them) return home with another young woman. The girl hides behind a barrel in the corner and stays hidden in fright as the men give their current catch three glasses of wine (one white, one red and one yellow) which has the effect of killing her, making me wonder just exactly what kind of wine they're talking about. Once dead, the men proceed to hack her up and prepare her for the old woman to make into a stew. One of the robbers eyes a ring on the dead girl's finger and, unable to remove it, hacks the finger off with an axe. The finger flies across the room and lands in the lap of the terrified girl behind the barrel. Quickly thinking, the old woman diverts their attention from the finger ("It'll still be there in the morning!") and proceeds to drug them with wine so they pass out. When the coast is clear the old woman helps the girl escape, using this opportunity to finally break whatever servitude she herself had with the robbers.

Back home the daughter tells her father all, which not only shocks him but underscores what a bad judge of character he is. So the wedding goes as planned, with all parties invited and attending. The bridegroom is miffed that she didn't come to his house as arranged, but no matter, they can go there after the wedding. Folks gathered around the table are telling stories and the girl is implored to tell one herself. She tells of a dream, of a house in the forest, with a bird that sings out warnings, and a crone in the basement. The story is very solemn for so happy an occasion and she keeps reassuring her breidegroom "It was only a dream." Except, at the very end, when she gets to the point of the murdered maiden and her finger flying across the room, the girl stands up and like a storyteller around a campfire holds up the finger and says "And here it is!" Cue the locals who surround the robbers and take the to the magistrate for a quick summary execution.

There is an older variant of this story that shows up in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing and a story called Mr. Fox which covers a lot of the same territory. The story of Perrault's Bluebeard is also mentioned, and it's interesting that there are these stories of murderous louts going back several hundred years. According to a Wikipedia entry on the matter there is an Ozark variant that ends with "the heroine resolved never to marry and never did, because she had concluded men were bad; she just stayed with her own family, who were happy to have her." The cite on this last one comes from Angela Carter, no stranger to the fairy tale or of strong feminist heroines. And I really should get around to reading Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride sometime to see the scenario flipped.

Again, the most striking aspect of this fairy tale is that these men referred to as robbers are in fact cannibals, that they literally prey on young women and seem to have some guile at culling them from safety. My latest time machine fantasy now includes a stop during Grimm's day to see this story told and get reactions from the children it was told to, assuming it was told to children at all. In the days before television and movies -- and even books during the mid 19th century -- adults would have had to entertain themselves as well.

I'm suddenly finding myself mulling over the mental image of Quintin Tarrantino going back to 1840 in the time machine and seeing him in an inn telling stories to the locals. That's actually a bit scarier than cannibal robbers right now.

The Periodic Table: Elements With Style

"Created by Basher"
Written by Adrian Dingle
Kingfisher/ Houghton Mifflin 2007
Toucan Books U.K.

Can the periodic table of elements be fun? And hip?

I found this book strangely compelling. I don't get to say that enough about books these days. Inside this compact little book are over 50 of the elements from the periodic table, that nifty little chart you probably haven't thought much about since high school unless you work in the sciences. Each of the elements gets it's own page and a little first-person bio about its characteristics.

That's right, the elements get their own say and they're quite an interesting collection of characters. And it comes with it's own poster of the elements attached to the inside cover!

The book opens with a brief explanation on the history and organization of the periodic table then jumps in and introduces the reader to the elements by their groupings (carbon elements, noble gasses, &c.). Then each element gets their say in little social networking style "about me" statements accompanied by stats like their symbol, color, atomic number, weight, density, melting and boiling points, and date of discovery. Here's the opening for a fellow you might think you know well:

Some think of me as the devil in disguise because I'm often mistaken for copper. My name is taken from the German word kupfernickel, meaning 'devil's copper'.

Did you recognize Nickel from his introduction?

What could easily fall apart under the weight of being either too cute or too clever the characteristics for each of the elements is well handled by Adrian Dingle, a chemistry teacher who came to the project after the art was created. I think that's part of what makes this book feel quirky; It began as a project by Simon Basher, a British designer who re-imagined the periodic table as a chart of monsters and creatures and ghoulies with individual characteristics that feel like a mashup of grafitti culture, hip-hop, manga, and digital pets. Then Dingle was brought in to make the link between art and science with an eye toward a young readership.

This isn't the kind of book one purchases to just have around the house, it really is more of a reference book best used in schools, but the fun of it almost justifies shelf space in the home. If this had been available to me when I was in middle school I might have done better in the sciences. In fact, I think all of our science and math texts in this country could do with this kind of an overhaul. We've been hearing for almost ten years that the US trails in Math and Science but we aren't likely to change that until kids get more interested.

I'm hoping more books like this help.

When A Monster Is Born

by Sean Taylor
illustrated by Nick Sharratt
Roaring Brook Press 2007
(Orchard Books 2006 Great Britain)

A small note in the end papers indicates that the text was based on a traditional Brazilian poem but the format feels more familiar, like the rhythm is part of a universal storytelling cadence .

When a Monster is born there are two possibilities --
Either it's a Faraway-in-the-Forest Monster, or...
...It's an Under-the-Bed monster.

If it's a Faraway-in-the-Forest Monster, then that's that.
But if it's an Under-the-Bed Monster...

And so begins the page-turning plot, each presenting a pair of possibilities that diverge and offer the picture book equivalent of the "if/then" logic statement. No doubt children will enjoy the unpredictable absurdities (monster eating a principal, getting slopped with porridge) as the plot finally twists its way back to the beginning, offering a closed-loop universe as the Monster gets married and has a child.

A sturdy option for the reader (or lap-sitter) who is just starting to appreciate the cleverness of plot diversions, nonsense and the thrill of connecting endings and beginnings in their storytelling. There was something a little Remy Charlip about it, which is never a bad thing for me.

The OK Book

by Amy Krause Rosenthal &
Tom Lichtenfeld
Kook Productions/
HarperCollins 2007

1970's pop psychology took this long to filter down into picture books?

The letters OK are tilted to one side to represent a child who introduces us to all the things they are "okay" at. Despite making mistakes within the illustrations the text confidently declares that they are still okay:

An okay pancake flipper (though it lands on its head);

An okay kite flyer (while it's stuck in a tree);

An okay swimmer (sticking a cautious toe in the water at the edge of the shore);

"One day, I'll grow up and be really excellent at something...
...but I sure am having fun figuring it out."

It's difficult to take a self-esteem book to task for its earnestness, but a part of me feels that learning these sorts of lessons from books -- rather than through more effective approaches like parenting and example -- removes a certain layer of responsibility. It provides adults a false sense of fulfilled obligation, that by introducing the concept of being "okay for the time being" through a book absolves those adults from further interaction or reinforcement. Perhaps as a preschool tool for introducing children to the topic as a jumping-off point for discussion it's okay, though the repetition of the text could prove tedious.

But perfectly for okay parents who might need the reminders.

Grimmoire 39: The Elves

Three separate stories concerning the nature and goings-on among the elves of Grimmopolis.

The first tale is that old chestnut, the shoemaker and the elves. You know the drill: shoemaker so poor that he only has enough leather for one pair of shoes, overnight the elves come in and use that leather to make a pair of shoes so snazzy that a buy pays double for them, thus allowing the shoemaker to purchase more leather, and the elves to compound the shoemaker's wealth, and so on. Curious to know how exactly this miracle continues the shoemaker and his wife stay up late and witness the naked elves--

Wait. Naked? I don't remember anything about naked elves?

So the shoemaker and his wife spend the next day making the elves cute little doll clothes, shirts and jackets and little tiny shoesies. That night the naked little elves come out and, whoa! clothes? Excited that they can finally go out in public the elves put on the clothes and take off, never to be seen again. The shoemaker was by this time very wealthy, his work beyond criticism, and he lived the remainder of his life coasting on the reputation of the elves.

Second tale appears to be a Grimm version of Rip Van Winkle, only with a girl, and maybe a little more innocent. A poor servant girl gets an invitation from the elves to be a godmother at the christening of one of the elf children. Convinced by her employers that she should go (it might not be wise to piss off the elves) the girl is taken by the elves to a cave in the mountain. The christening party lasts three days and when she finally felt like it was time to leave the elves filled the girl's pockets with gold and lead her out of the mountain. Back at her employer's house she resumes her duties only to find that she had been gone for seven years, her employers long dead.

In the final tale we have a little elf mischief, which is easily undone if you know the secret to making a changeling laugh.

The elves swap out a newborn with a fat-headed changeling that does nothing but eat and drink. The mother goes to the neighbor who consulted the great book of changeling recipes and informed her that if you boil water in two eggshells it will make the creature laugh and he would lose his power. What that power is, we're never told or shown. So she boils water in the eggshells, the changeling laughs, and the elves return the correct child and go in search of another family to dump the fatheaded monster onto.

So let's recap some things we've learned about German elves:

• They are industrious enough to make shoes for humans to sell but lack either the ability, materials or wherewithal to make themselves clothes
• They think nothing of asking poor, illiterate humans to be their children's godparents and even less of the fact that in doing so they distort that human's entire sense of time and space.
• They love a good prank, swapping out people's children's with underworld changelings that can only be decommissioned by making them laugh at the sight of water boiling in eggshells.

This is a marked different brand of creature than the proper British brand of elf we see in J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling and all the other British authors whose writing includes elves and sign their names with initial J.

And that Jolly Old Elf who pops around late in December.

Alligator Boy

by Cynthia Rylant
illustrated by Diane Goode
Harcourt 2007

After a visit to a museum a boy decides he'd rather be an alligator. A gift of a costume alligator tail and head provide an instant transformation. Now he can deal with bullies fearlessly, enjoys school more, thrives.

Rylant's breezy rhyme and Goode's light drawings make an absurd-but-real situation and make it fun. Perfect for reading to the little boy who insists on wearing his superhero pajamas all the time, equally for any child who feels they are somehow different, trapped within conformity.

My only complaint is that as good as it is, it feels thin. I'm not so sure this deserves its own book as it does a place in a collection of shorter story-poems, the way Edward Lear's works were collected.

Grimmoire 33: The Three Languages

Or: How to become Pope in three easy lessons.

Our tale begins in Switzerland where we are told there was an old count who had an only son who was quite stupid. Believing that the best way to solve a problem is to throw money at it, and the best way to raise a child is to send it to boarding school, the old count sends his son away to the care of a famous master to see what can be done.

The boy returns a year later having learned how to understand the barking of dogs.

Despite this the father sends his son off to work with another master, in the hope that something might take. Another year passes and the boy returns having learned the language of the birds.
Gott in Himmel! the father laments. Is this boy hopeless? He sends him off for a third course at the feet of a master and this time, this time he comes back knowing the language of frogs. The father calls his men to have his useless son taken out to the woods and killed but his men are forgiving (they probably don't like their employer all that much anyway) and set the boy free, bringing back the eyes and tongue of a deer as "proof" of having killed the boy.

We now shift scenes and watch as the boy drifts across the countryside until he inquires about lodgings at a castle. The lord of the castle being no more reasonable than his father agrees to let the boy stay if he can stay the night in the old tower. The hitch? The tower is full of wild, snarling curs who have been known to devour human visitors. No sweat, replies talks-to-animals, just give me something to feed them and it'll all be jake. The lord agrees, the boy feeds the dogs, and instead of being eaten they tell of being under a curse to snarl and snap and protect the great treasure that is buried their. The lord, suddenly keen on the boy at the mention of the word treasure, agrees to adopt the boy as his own (no marriage necessary!) if he'll get the treasure. No sweat, the dogs help, the treasure is retrieved, the boy has a new father, happy ending.

Not quite. After a while this idiot son-of-a-count decides he's going to take a trip to Rome. He's in the Alps, wants the traipse through the countryside, makes perfect sense. Along the way he hears the lamentation of the frogs. Oh! Do they have a story to tell, and it wears heavily upon the boy because he not only understands them but has learned that the pope has died. More, the cardinals have been waiting for a sign from heaven before anointing a new pope. Alas, the boy knows more than he shares, for when he appears at the Vatican two doves swoop down and land on his shoulders. A blessing from the lord! The cardinals have their sign and offer the boy a popeship. Undecided at first, feeling a bit unworthy, the doves persuade him to take the job and he agrees. He's anointed, consecrated, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the frogs he heard along the way. When it comes time for him to perform the mass the boy doesn't know the words but he doves are there to whisper in his ear (so in addition to speaking bird he can also understand when they speak Latin?) and all was good and right in the world.

Wait. Is this a mocking of the Catholic church, that they would promote an idiot-heathen who speaks to the animals as their Holiness? Is this another version of the "be kind to idiots, for they shall have the Earth as their possession" kind of story that appears in every culture? Since he speaks to the animals and later becomes pope is this a folk version of the St. Francis story?

It's interesting that the tale has a classic three-act structure but that each act serves as its own mini story. It's also very tidy in it's knowledge gained, knowledge used balance and doesn't hint at just how far his knowledge will take him. Almost as if there was a mythical quality to the idea of being sent away to a "great master" (i.e. university) returns a child smarter than their parents who are too stupid to value the accomplishment. Perhaps the Grimm-era equivalent of telling kids that anyone can become president.

Or pope.

Little Moon Dog

by Helen Ward
illustrated by Wayne Anderson
Dutton 2007
(originally Templar Books 2005 in Great Britain)

When the tourists come for their annual visit to the moon the Man in the Moon and his Little Moon Dog shutter themselves in their home and hunker down for some quiet time. The tourists (later referred to as fairies, which they resemble) make faces at the Little Moon Dog while his master dozes in a chair. The boredom is too much for him and the Little Moon Dog escapes out the back door to play with his new friends.

The fairies are little demons, fixing the Little Moon Dog with wings and teaching him how to steal plums and drop them down chimneys. When it comes time for the tourists to leave they have so captivated Little Moon Dog that he finds himself spirited away with nary a care for his master.

Once in the shady wood (of a nearby planet?) the tourist fairies soon tire of Little Moon Dog. As the fairies taunt and tease him Little Moon Dog realizes they aren't his real friends and he is lonely. Waking to find his companion gone, the Man in the Moon sets about to retrieve his lost friend, bringing him home in a makeshift ballooncraft where they vow that the next time the tourists come they will escape on vacation together as well. The whole things wraps up with a little moral, which I will soon enough share.

First, I have to say I was a bit confused about how there is a hermit on the moon who gets visited by fairies that live on another nearby planet. I mean, does it need to be the moon, simply so it can be a Moon Doggie? Can't it just be set in an enchanted place? Everything about this book screams fairy-forest and the imposition of the interplanetary setting give the whole a sterile feel. The faux ugly-naive artwork doesn't help either.

I'm also not a big fan of books that utilize a delicate, arty font meant to highlight the fairy-like quality of the story but does little more than make it seem all the more precious. It's as if to say to the reader, in the most patronizing of tones, Now THIS is a SPECIAL story. I find it equally distasteful when some words are highlighted in BOLD to add EMPHASIS even in moments where it doesn't seem WARRANTED. Just as capital letters in email and text messaging have the effect of shouting, so to goes the feeling in children's books where the story suddenly feels as if certain words are being SPOKEN in a loud, CONDESCENDING voice from an old lady who smells like FLOWERS, LOTS and LOTS of FLOWERS.

As if that weren't enough, the story ends on this charming little note:

For the Man in the Moon AND Little Moon Dog know...
There is nothing quite so NASTY as a fickle FAIRY and nothing quite so NICE as a faithful FRIEND.

And nothing quite so dreadful as a book that needs to club the innocent over the head to make its point.

Free Comic Book Day 2007

In addition to any Cinco de Mayo festivities you may be planning this coming Saturday might I suggest a trip to your nearest comic book emporium? The first Saturday in May is Free Comic Book Day and it means exactly that: a free comic book from a selection offered by comic book publishers. The site has a handy store locator, descriptions of the comics, comics history and other information.

The free issues are specifically produced for this event in the hopes of hooking young (an old) readers on comics. It's usually one or two-per person on the free rack, but if you're going with kids and everyone gets something different you can all share in the spoils. My girls loved doing this last year and discovered Owly as a freebie. It wasn't far before we drifted to the racks where the Mickey Mouse comics were and those were a continued hit over the summer. This year there's a free Mickey in the bunch, and an Archie, and a Spidey so it looks like goodies all around.

This would be a good time for those interested in graphic novels to visit and see what's out there. There's a pretty big pond out there if you've never taken the dip; most regular book retailers don't even carry a fraction of what's available including a large number of indie comics publishers who can't swing major distribution deals. It might be too busy to chat with the retailers on Saturday about recommendations (though I've yet to meet a comic retailer who didn't love to talk shop) but if not ask what they like for kids and get a whole different perspective on what kids are checking out in a different section of the kidlit marketplace.

Once more, with feeling: Free stuff.

Pictures From Our Vacation

by Lynne Rae Perkins
Greenwillow/ HarperCollins 2007

We were going to our family farm. No one lived at the farm anymore, but our grandparents were spending the summer there and we were going to visit them...

It's a two day trip to the family farm and just before they leave mom gives her children instant cameras and a blank notebook to record their vacation. The first shot is an accident, a picture of feet taken while trying to figure out how the camera works.

Heading out of town our narrator, the girl, imagines what their motel will be like that first night, followed by vivid plans for her own dream-style motel. Her dream motel includes a pool, an azure oasis in the heartland. She is naturally disappointed when they arrive at the motel and find the pool has no water in it at all. A photo documents this disappointment.

At the farm they settle in and dig out an old badminton set with warped rackets. They aren't long into the game when they are chased inside by the rain. A photo of a warped racket is taken.

The rain lasts for days on end, forcing games of cards and drawing, silent reading and building towers from playing cards. No pictures are taken.

When the weather clears they take a day trip to a nearby lake. They get lost along the way (trying to find one of dad's childhood shortcuts) and then stop at a large Native American earthwork, a snake mound along the river. A picture is taken next to the mound that looks like nothing more than a grassy knoll in the photo.

They reach the lake finally, just as it starts to rain again. No photo.

They attend a memorial service for a great aunt who was something of a free-spirited adventurer in her day. Afterward many people gather at the old farm house, distant cousins and friends, where they feast and play and spend the night together. "I didn't take any pictures that day," the girl says.

Finally it's time to return home. She takes out her notebook and looks at the pictures. "These don't remind me that much of our vacation," she says. Her father suggests that putting a person in the photos makes them more interesting, gives something to focus on. But mom gets it right when she opines that perhaps they were having too much fun to take better pictures.

As picture books go, it's a wordy one, not the kind a lap-sitter would sit still for. No, this belongs to that special class of picture book that has fallen somewhat out of favor, the long-form picture book intended for older independent readers. This kind of picture book was what I was weened on in the days before beginning readers was a market and snack series filled the gap between Syd Hoff and Dr. Seuss and the books of Roald Dahl and Jerome Beatty.

Long-form isn't just about more words than what most current picture books contain, but also in pacing, in the leisurely feel of the story getting around to its points. The long-form picture book isn't just a story, it's an illustrated short story, and like its grown-up versions it is about a specific moment of discovery told with a certain amount of economy.

Words and pictures work together to tell two different stories of the same events. Perkins is careful in making sure to alternate between scenes of broad overviews and smaller moments, sometimes illustrating ideas only barely hinted at in the texts (like memories) or not even mentioned in the text at all (the quiet activities during the rain). The insets of the photos the kids take are exactly the sort of snapshots kids would take when their brains are telling them to record a moment for posterity but haven't the experience to know how to capture those moments. It's no surprise that their notebooks are filled with images that don't even hint at the vacation's activities, a gentle lesson in living life as opposed to recording it obsessively.

There are some scrap-bookers out there who might benefit from this message.

Perkins gouache illustrations catch the bright colors of summer, the saturation of our memories of summers past, shimmering luminescent pieces of frozen time. I'm still not quite sure what reader this book is best for, but for the right reader this is a gem.

Grimmoire 32: Clever Hans

I'm digging "Clever Hans." There's something about the way it reads like bad drama and a repetitive nursery rhyme all at once.

Hans and his mother have a series of conversations. They conversations are identical except for the lesson learned and the way it is applied the next time Hans goes out. Mama asks where Hans is going, he always replies "To Gretel's." She bids him to take care, he says good-bye. At Gretel's, after a cordial greeting she asks if he has anything for her. "Didn't bring anything. Want something from you," he says in his best clipped Bavarian.

And every time Gretel gives him something and sends him on his way.

Whatever Gretel gives him Hans mismanages. She gives him a needle, he stores it in a hay wagon. He tells his Mama and she tells him he's stupid, that he should have stuck it in his sleeve. "I'll do better next time," our Mama's boy says. But the next time Gtetel gives him a knife and he sticks that in his sleeve, like his Mama told him. And it continues, Mama pointing out what he should have done, Clever Hans following his mother's instructions the next visit despite the fact that the item changes and require different care and treatment. Gretel gives him a goat and he stuffs it in his pocket. She gives him bacon and he drags it home on a rope. She gives him a calf he wears it on his head.

Finally Gretel gives herself to bring home to his mother (more on this in a moment) allowing herself to be tied like an animal, taken to the barn and have grass thrown at her. When he reports this to his mother she once again admonishes his behavior, telling him he should thrown friendly looks at her. What does he do? He goes to the barn and cuts out all the eyes of the cows and sheep and throw them at her. Gretel has finally (!) had enough and leaves.

"And that was how Hans lost his bride."

First, I love that this is 99% dialog. The repetition, the constant set-up and pay-off for each of Clever Hans' exchanges with Gretel has a feel of a campfire story, a very contemporary one at that. I also like that Hans (or Hansel) and Gretel seem to be archetypes of German boy and girl pairings, like Jack and Jill or Dick and Jane.

But here's a funny story about a thick-headed boy who is sent by his mother to court this girl and she is going along with it. Is Hans is the village idiot? Is Gretel getting something out of the arrangement far greater than a husband because she seems to put up with this fools behavior all the way to the very end? The girl always asks what he has for her and he's always empty handed, asking for something in return, and she gives him a trifle, a token, something designed to force his mother to send him back.

I really don't want to tread too far out on the ice on this one, but am I reading too much sexual tension in this story of expectation and unfulfilled desire? Everyone seems so keen on getting this dummer Kopf to give something to Gretel until finally, exasperated, she has Hans drag her home so that perhaps she can get some friction with the guidance of his mother. Even that sounds weirder than I'd intended, but there it is.

And then you get the title: Clever Hans. Is it ironic, or is Hans playing the fool, refusing to take part in this arrangement? There's no mention of Gretel being beautiful or to his liking and perhaps Hans has no intention of giving in to the arrangement made between the girl and his mother. It would better explain why Gretel would put up with his foolishness if she was getting the better part of the deal, and why the mother would keep encouraging her boy despite his willful ignorance. Finally, his mother gives him the perfect out, to throw adoring eyes at her, and he performs his gross act in a masterstroke of deal-breaking. Being tied to a stable and having grass thrown at you might be a small price to pay, but then to witness the butchering of livestock and be pelted with their eyes, that'll send anyone running.

Yeah, I could have dug this around the campfire when I was a Boy Scout. I don't know what that says about me, but there it is.

Sideways Stories from Wayside School

by Louis Sachar
Harper Trophy 1978

They got it wrong when they built Wayside School. It was supposed to be one story tall and thirty rooms wide, but instead it's one room wide and thirty stories tall. Sorry about that, say the builders. It's a weird building (with a lot of playground as a result) that has a lot of strange stories attached. And with that we're off on 30 short stories (one for each of the building's floor, though they all concern the occupants in the class on the top floor) of all the strange goings on at Wayside School.

It's taken me a while to get to reading this book because it seems beyond review. Just shy of being 30 years old the book has obviously proven itself over time with kids, and given its age I'm sure there is a generation bringing this book home to read whose parents read it when it was still a new book. But I missed it, being that I was in high school working on my AP English when it was initially released.

Each of these incredibly short interconnected stories usually focuses on one individual and is made up of complete nonsense. Their first teacher turns students into apples when they misbehave until she herself is turned into an apple and eaten by the playground supervisor. One boy becomes class president and is responsible for turning on and off the lights but loses his position one day when he is late for school and finds the class working in the dark because no one else knew how to turn on the lights. Utter absurdity, pure entertainment.

This is one of those books that flies under the radar with parents, one of those books kids read and like and the parents just go "They really liked those wayside books" but never read themselves. Having transitioned from series books like Mary Pope Osborne's Magic Tree House or Jon Scieszka's Time Warp Trio parents my just write off the Wayside books as more gobble-em-up stories, books aimed at a very hungry readership that reinforce reading without challenging them either in content or vocabulary. I'd like to suggest that there might be another reason kids are drawn to these stories, something beyond the familiarity factor.

A little over a year ago I caught my girls working on a secret project in a notebook. Caught is a relative word here, they only hid it from me when I casually went to check on why they were being so quiet. The notebook, it turned out, was a collection of individual stories about various "characters" in their school, friends whose names were changed only slightly in order to distance themselves from being accused of making fun of their classmates. I smiled, remembering how me and some friends had made a similar collection of stories when we were their age, sharing them in secret on the playground or at lunch.

I don't remember the source of inspiration for the character studies we made back then, and I can't be certain that the Wayside Stories were the inspiration for my girls, but the timing makes it plausible that the two are connected. Even if it's a coincidence there appears to be something deeply rooted in the exercise of children inventing nonsensical stories once they have a feel for the telling of stories. The freedom of being able to write whatever you want, coupled by the excitement of actually inventing stories is just too irresistible. The appeal of a book that does the same thing probably equally so.