Here's to You, Nancy Drew!

           Nancy Drew is my hero. I was nine when we were first introduced thanks to my mom.  Reading and I didn’t get along and my mom was trying desperately to get me hooked on books.  I loved stories, still do, and fondly remember sitting on my bed with a glass of milk listening to my dad read the Berenstain Bears’ B Book, or my mom terrifying me with the poem “The Skippery Boo.”  She’d pretend to be the Skippery Boo coming to get me and I would scream in terrified delight.

            My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Novik, would let me sit at my desk and write my own stories as much as I wanted…even during math so long as I kept up and did the work at home...which was easier said than done, especially when fractions were involved. I didn't like them. They were the math version of Brussels sprouts, sour. Anyway, interest in reading wasn’t the issue.  The actual act of reading was pure torture, and it would be a few years before the reason why would come to light.  In the meantime, my mom searched high and low for something I could manage to read and that would take me to another place, to help me forget about my troubles.

            The Secret of Old Clock and all its sequels was just what the detective ordered.  Nancy Drew was so cool and got to do the most awesome stuff.  She had her own car, for one thing.  She had a boyfriend and two best friends who always stuck by her. She was good looking, but not so much as to be intimidating.  In short, she was someone I wanted to be friends with.  And, she solved mysteries.  It sounded so exciting.  She experienced the most incredible adventures.  I wanted to do what she did and I figured she had much to teach me. I was right…she dared me to dream. 

            Like all good friends, Nancy eventually introduced me to others.  Trixie Belden, another ingenious sleuth, and I hit it off immediately.  Agatha Christie, cool under fire, proved a great instructor of deductive reasoning, a key ingredient to solving any question.  Anne Shirley, whose independence, spirit, fearlessness, loyalty, and ability to remain true to her self is still inspiring.  I loved her Green Gables as much as she did and hoped that one day I might live in a place as magical as she. 

And last but not least, Elizabeth Bennet, a fiery romantic and solver of the mysteries of the heart if ever there was one.  The six of us cried together, were frightened together when foundations and beliefs were threatened, and laughed and cheered at triumphs.  They were then, and continue to be, my best friends.

Somehow, though, Nancy, Agatha, Trixie, Anne, and Elizabeth managed to make me feel better.  They made mistakes but lived to tell about it.  Elizabeth Bennet was convinced Mr. Darcy was beneath her, yet was willing to admit her mistake when the truth was revealed.  Nancy, Agatha, and Trixie followed dead end after dead end before finding the answer to a puzzle.  Their perseverance was to be admired and emulated. And Anne, well, trouble always seemed to find her.  Yet she was able to win people over with her warm heart and good intentions.

              No matter how tough some things may have been growing up, if those five women could overcome their setbacks so could I.  No way was I going to let an obstacle get in the way of my dream.  I wanted to be a super sleuth, and my dream came true.  I’m a librarian, finding answers to stubborn questions and conquering dead ends in a single bound.  So, here’s to you Nancy Drew.  Thank you.

The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene

Published by Grosset & Dunlap, 1959

2 1/2 Lessons from a Penguin

"1--2--3, 4--2, 3--6--0, 2 1/ 2, 0." No, these are not the numbers for a combination lock. Nor are they the numbers to a  Swiss bank account, but they are equally important. They are numbers that teach us, and later remind us, to march to our rhythm.  Too often everyone, kids included, get caught up in keeping up with others, in trying to be like others instead of just doing and being whatever it is we do and be best at.

Tacky the Penguin has no such hesitations. He marches however he wants and doesn't care a frozen shrimp what his iceberg companions Goodly, Lovely, Angel, Neatly, and Perfect think. Tacky has much to teach. Splashy cannonballs have a way of breaking the monotony of day-to-day routine. Think about it. Have you ever been out walking the neighborhood on an egg-scorcher of a day and noticed a sprinkler in someone's front yard taunting you to run through it? Did you run through it? Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Tacky would have, and I can't blame him...neither would the neighbors. It's hot out, so why not. They might even join you.

Tacky reminds us of the importance of music. Not the secret stuff that plays privately in our head, but the stuff that everyone can hear. "How many toes does a fish have? And how many wings on a cow? I wonder, yup, I wonder." Now that is great music. Does it have to make sense? No. And so what if it's off-key. Crank up the volume. Sing with everything you've got...and not just in the car as you head home from work or an awesome date. Sing when the mood hits and who cares how you sound. Just sing. Doing so provides a rhythm that carries you through the day, makes cleaning the igloo speed by faster than a dolphin, and gets the endorphins flowing. It has this magical way of lifting a mood to heights not thought possible, and yet the view is spectacular.

Everyone runs into their share of "hunters" once in a while. They're not fun. They come with "maps and traps and rocks and locks" and definitely look rough and tough. The trick is to not run behind an iceberg and hide. The real Hawaiian shirt trick is to stand and face the growl. Most of us are right there (or wish we were) with Goodly, Lovely, Angel, Neatly, and Perfect, hiding. That is, after all, the usual natural reaction when a threat appears. But, Tacky takes a different approach. He's brilliant, actually. He lays his sardines out there, daring them to "bring it." As is often the case, the antagonist is confronted with something he didn't expect...confidence. It's hard to continue following the maps and traps and rocks and locks when the path is blocked by something as formidable as confidence. When you think about it, though, anyone who can wear a Hawaiian shirt, do splashy cannonballs, and joyfully sing "How many toes does a fish have?" deserves respect and admiration...and to be learned from.

So march, 1--2--3, 4--2, 3--6--0, 2 1/2, 0, and run through the neighbors sprinkler. I did.


Tacky the Penguin by Helen Lester, illustrated by Lynn Munsinger
Published by Houghton Mifflin, 1988

Paying Homage

Margaret Wise Brown was a genius. Pure and simple...and she kept her stories simple. She and her stories were the epitome of "less is more." How much more simple, yet stunningly beautiful can you get than "In the great green room/There was a telephone/And a red balloon/And a picture of--The cow jumping over the moon"? It's pure poetry. Word choice is everything in writing...which may be pointing out the obvious but it never hurts to review. Having said that, it is particularly important in writing for children. Those not in the know have a tendency to think "How hard can it be? Children's stories are short, cute things...not many words to them." I beg to differ.

In a novel for adults a writer can take hundreds of pages to develop a story. Yes, the words are important...without a doubt. After all, "the knife glinted in the moonlight" calls to mind a vastly different mental image than "the knife flashed in the moonlight." But, compared to a story for kids there's more room to play. The average picture book is 32-pages in length, with most of the space used for the illustrations. For the sake of this argument, I'm not including lengthier items such as folklore or fairy tale retellings. Now, getting back to the original discussion, 32-pages of mostly pictures doesn't leave a whole lot of time or space for the story to develop. As mentioned in a previous blog post, Pat Hutchins' Rosie's Walk is a mere thirty-one words. And yet a complete story is told in those thirty-one words (not to mention an extra tale of sorts told in the illustrations).

Goodnight Moon takes a little longer to come full circle, 130 words to be exact...most of which are repeated. "In the great green room...Goodnight room...." What beautiful words they are. Each is familiar to the young listener and thus adds an element of comfort...nothing is new or unfamiliar. The story pairs nicely with a favorite blanket and stuffed animal, which was, perhaps, part of Brown's idea behind it.

Clement Hurd's illustrations can't be overlooked, either. He spared no detail. The room is awash in bright colors as the young rabbit gets ready for bed, still wide awake, possibly "not quite ready to go to sleep" and trying to stall, stars twinkling out the window. As the goodnights progress, the room grows darker...lamp light eventually replaced by moonlight as it rises and can finally be seen through the window...and little rabbit getting sleepier...and sleepier...and sleepier. 

Why is this such a classic? Because it reflects a young child perfectly. Every child has a routine at bedtime. Blankets MUST cover a child a certain way. Stuffed animals MUST be lined up on the bed in a certain order. Heaven help the parent who gets it wrong. In a child's world, everything has its place and order and must be in it. Little rabbit saying goodnight to all the things in her room mirrors this. It is reassuring, and not just for the child. Goodnight Moon also reminds the grownup to slow down, to stop and appreciate all the wonderful people and things around them, making sure that everything is in its place, in its proper perspective.

Ah. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon. Goodnight, wonderful little book. Goodnight, Ms. Margaret Wise Brown. Hush.

BFF's (Best Friends Forever)

I know what I'm going to name my next cat...Tacy, as in Tacy from the Betsy-Tacy series by Maud Hart Lovelace. How I missed this fabulous series as a kid I don't know. Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact that the only thing I'd read (at least initially) were Nancy Drew books. You may compare this to a one-year old refusing to eat anything but Gerber plums and apples, or in my case, raspberry cobbler. At any rate, I missed out on a wonderful series growing up. Fortunately, that gap in my reading journey has come to an end and it is easy to understand how and why it is included in 1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up.

Friends do come and go. But, a special, precious few begin when we are in grade school and last for the rest of our lives. Most of us have at least one of these friendships. I did. Unfortunately, we spent most of it living in different states. My BFF moved to Virginia right after our freshman year of high school. Similarly, Betsy and Tacy are best friends and live next door to each other...until right before they begin their freshman year of high school. Luckily for Tacy, Betsy is moving just across town. Still, the pain both girls go through as a result of the move is something everyone can identify with no matter their age (or gender, for that matter). Moving at any point in life is not easy.

There are numerous questions that run through the mind when a move is on the horizon, chiefly, "Will I make a new friend and will he or she be as good as...." The answer could be a mix of both yes and no...probably more yes, "you" will make a new friend and he or she is just as likely to be as special as the one you might be leaving behind. But, there is something about a friendship formed in grade school. They grow as quickly as you outgrow your shoes and winter coats.

In Heaven to Betsy, Betsy is keenly concerned about what will happen to her friendship with Tacy when she moves and they begin high school. Will they remain friends and be as close as they were before the move? What will happen if they make new friends? Will they drift apart? After all, they've been best friends and have lived across the street from each other since they were five. They'd played countless hours of house, school, and dress up together. Now they're young ladies, high school students...a time when lots of things can and do change.

 Friends are important. They see you at your worst and still love you for who you are. Friends forgive (ignore?) a lapse in communication without a second thought...allowing you to pick up right where you left off as if no time had elapsed.  Friends back you up when you feel like your back's against the wall. Friends, simply, are there for you...every successful, failed, awkward, sticky, and muck-filled step of whatever journey you're sharing together. Betsy and Tacy are all of these and more to each other. They're the kind of friends we'd like to be friends with. They remind us of our own friends, of all that is good and wonderful and why we are friends with those we are. In short, Betsy and Tacy and their friendship, adventures, and experiences remind us of ourselves.

Book: Betsy-Tacy series
Author: Maud Hart Lovelace
Year: 1940-1955

Note: For contemporary counterparts, "pair" this series with Snail Mail No More by Paula Danziger and Ann Martin and Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life by Wendy Mass.

 

Meep-Meep!

Book 3: Rosie's Walk by Pat Hutchins (1968)

Thirty-one words. That's it. Just thirty-one words to tell this hilarious story.  And, you would think it would take no time at all to read it as a result. Not so. When I read this to groups of young kids (or simply one-on-one) it takes well over at least ten minutes. Why? Because of the illustrations. That is both how and where this story is is really told. The words are almost unnecessary.

At first glance, the pictures seem simplistic, but upon closer examination are quite sophisticated. This sophistication is not lost on or beyond the reach of the toddler (and older) set. Hutchins keeps the color palette simple, sticking with soft yellows, reds, browns, greens, and black outlines for definition...along with plenty of white space on the page.  Rosie may be on a walk around the barnyard before dinner, but what she doesn't know (and the reader does) is that she is being followed by a fox.

What reads as a such an uncomplicated thing, "Rosie the hen went for a walk across the yard," is so much more. As Rosie leaves the hen house, she is completely unaware of Fox hiding beneath it and then following her across the yard. As he leaps to pounce on her, he lands on a yard rake and is whacked in the face. The humor isn't missed by kids and is the reason Rosie's Walk is not a story to be read quickly. They pour over the pictures, noting such minute items as a snail in the grass, or a string wrapped around Rosie's ankle that--unbeknown to her of course--causes a sack of flour to tear and spill on Fox as she walks past his latest hiding place.

Rosie's adventure is reminiscent of the antics between Wiley E. Coyote and Road Runner. No matter how hard Fox tries to catch Rosie, some unfortunate mishap occurs to him. What makes this story such a classic and amazing work is that none of Fox's mishaps are even remotely hinted at in the text. Hutchins' illustrations tell Fox's tale and it is that which captures a young child's attention.

Hutchins' technique of using the illustrations to tell a story parallel (or separate) to that of the text is not new. Randolph Caldecott, considered the "founder" of children's book illustration, employed this idea in his works. For example, in his Diverting History of John Gilpin, there is much more going on in the pictures than the text would have a reader believe. Hidden humor, an extra story going on "behind the scenes" etc. are just a few mechanisms that make an appearance the story. So, this begs the question, how is it Rosie's Walk did not win the Caldecott Award?

Meep-meep.

Historical Note:  Randolph Caldecott, born in Chester, England in 1846, taught himself to sketch and paint. His illustration break came when a publisher lost his principal illustrator, Walter Crane. The first two books Caldecott worked on were immediate successes and he would go on to not only illustrate other writer's works, but also write and illustrate his own. Sadly, he passed away at the age of 39 in St. Augustine, Florida. There is a headstone marking his grave in St. Augustine. In 1938, the American Library Association awarded the first medal bearing his name to Animals of the Bible, illustrated by Dorothy Lathrop. The award is given each year to the book with the best illustrations published in the preceding year. For example, the 2011 award will be given to the book with the best illustrations published in 2010. Also, the artist must be a United States resident and the pictures must embody the illustration ideas of Caldecott himself. For more information on Caldecott, visit http://www.randolphcaldecott.org.uk/. Visit the American Library Association's web site at www.ala.org for award criteria and a complete list of Caldecott Award winners and honorees.

J, K, L, M, N, O, P, and Q

Book 2: Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey

Mr. and Mrs. Mallard turn seventy next year. When they first landed at the Boston Public Garden in 1941, little did they know they'd be raising more than just their ducklings Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Oack, Pack, and Quack. They would, and continue to, help raise thousands if not millions of future readers and there is a very good reason why this story is timeless. Well, many good reasons, actually, and while I can't quack for the millions of other readers who love the story, for me I'm never quite sure the Mallard family is going to make it across the street safely.  Oh I know, there is the theme of family and all sorts of other underlying messages. But, when I read a children's story I want to read it through the eyes of a child and grown up stuff, like the afore mentioned thematic items, for the most sail right over a child's head. Don't get me wrong, they will (unconsciously) note the idea of family and that the Mallard's are doing everything they can to make sure their ducklings are raised safely. But, they (meaning children) are not going to stop and think, "Now, what is the author really trying to say."

I don't want to get bogged down in grown-up stuff. One of the many purposes of books for kids is to entertain and Make Way for Ducklings has it all. The opening scene draws you right in...where on earth are Mr. and Mrs. Mallard going to land for the night. A young reader or listener is hooked right from the beginning...wondering what's going to happen next. Will they find food? Will they find a place to lay their eggs? And how on earth are they going to get across the street to meet Mr. Mallard on the pond at the Public Garden.

That is the child equivalent of whether Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy will work out their differences and marry. No matter how many times I read Make Way for Ducklings, I'm never quite convinced it's going to work out.  That the family isn't going to make it across the streets and into the pond at the Public Garden to a waiting Mr. Mallard. And this is one reason why it is such a beloved and classic story. Because they DO arrive safely, and everyone, no matter how old, needs that reassurance that things can work out just fine...that happy endings aren't just the stuff of fairy tales.

The other magical aspect of the story is the illustrations. Secretly, I wanted one of the ducklings for my own. McCloskey captured their physical and behavioral antics perfectly. Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Oack, Pack, and Quack come alive with every reading. Anyone looking at the pictures can't help but feel as if they're standing on the sidewalk, too, waiting to cross the street or floating with Mr. and Mrs. Mallard in the air scouting out a place to land.

Everyone, no matter their age, enjoys a good story. Stories invite the imagination to run wild, to laugh, to cry, to work out what worries us. And there's no better place to begin doing that than the pond at the Boston Public Garden.  Quack!

Historical Note: In order to capture the ducks as perfectly as he did, McCloskey lived with ten mallard ducks and their chicks in his New York apartment for about a year to get them just right.

The Skippery Boo

What is it about kids that they enjoy a good, scary story...and at the same time shriek, "STOP!" Such was the effect of "The Skippery Boo" by Earl L. Newton on me. I hated that story (I think of poems as stories, just in a slightly different format) and loved it at the same time. My mom would read it to me once in awhile.  Not content, however, to simply read it to me, she had to be the Skippery Boo.

The impact of this was twofold. One, I would squeal and scream with both delight and terror. Two, it made the literature come alive. It wasn't a poem. It was a true story for that brief moment in time she was reading it to me. There really was a hunter wandering in the wood (I always pictured him dressed in Robin Hood-type garb) humming along and stopping for drink along a sparkling, rippling stream. Perhaps there were fish mingling about the surface. I could picture the tall tall pines surrounding his camp offering him shade and perhaps a bit of protection from the elements.

Of course, this meant, too, that the Skippery Boo really existed, a creature that in my mind was a cross between a lion, mermaid, bat, "a grizzly hare/And webfoot bear/A goof and a bumble-cat" that could shatter a tree like a toothpick. "Nooooo!  Stooooooop!" I'd wail as the Skippery Boo came  to life at the foot of my bed. I'd try to run away down the hall, but my mom would chase me--albeit good naturedly--still reading.   I was convinced for those few glorious, terrifying, exhilarating, and enchanting minutes that I was the hunter (or huntress in this case) running from the Skippery Boo.  Isn't that what any good four year old huntress would do? Arguing with Mr. Boo just didn't seem like a worthwhile pursuit.

But, isn't this what stories are supposed to do? To bring pretend worlds to life even for just a little while? To transport us to a realm with magical creatures and let our imaginations run wild down the hall?  "So as you wade/This vale of shade/And jog life's journey through/At day, at night,/Be it dark or light,/Watch out for the Skippery Boo."  Oh that wonderful warty-toed Skippery Boo. Has he met you?