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Two things you must know about:
Coldplay's new song Viva la Vida. I know nothing about Coldplay except that I like their song Yellow. But now I like this song too. www.youtube.com/watch
When it comes to Disney princes and/or male characters, I always thought none could surpass the majesty of Prince Philip. But alas, I was deeply wrong. Phoebus is where it's at, yo. He even has a beard. www.youtube.com/watch


So first off I have a lovely poem to share with you. I'm compiling a document of all my favorite poems and this is like my new FAVORITE ever.

On the Porch
Donald Justice

There used to be a way the sunlight caught
The cocoons of caterpillars in the pecans.
A boy’s shadow would lengthen to a man’s
Across the yard then, slowly. And if you thought
Some sleepy god had dreamed it all up- well,
There was my grandfather, Lincoln- tall and solemn,
Tapping his pipe out on a white-flaked column,
Carefully, carefully, as though it were his job.
(And we would watch the pipe-stars as they fell.)
As for the quiet, the same train always broke it.
Then the great silver watch rose from his pocket
For us to check the hour, the dark fob
Dangling the watch between us like a moon.
It would be evening soon then, very soon.

Isn't that just the clearest, most delightful poem you've ever read? And finally, an article I wrote for my sister's and my magazine, True Girl. Because I am lazy like that and do not feel like writing a whole new one just for this blog. Of course, if you get the magazine then this is a bonus little sneak peek into the August issue! Yay! It is still an early draft so it is a bit rough in spots but whatever, I hope you enjoy.

"The Joys of Children's Literature" (tentatively titled, because I am very very bad at thinking up titles)

There is a short passage in JM Barrie’s classic Peter Pan that, even now I’m 17, gives me pause. “‘Smee,” [Hook] said huskily, “that crocodile would have had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock which goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I hear the tick and bolt.” He laughed, but in a hollow way. “Some day,” said Smee, “the clock will run down, and then he'll get you.” Hook wetted his dry lips. “Ay,” he said, “that's the fear that haunts me.” I read it first at the age of 11 and thought I understood it perfectly. A crocodile is a crocodile, what else could it be? Reading it again from a more mature perspective never fails to send chills down my spine. For of course, the crocodile is a metaphor for mortality, ticking down the days until death.

 A simple thing? Maybe, but it shows why the novel remains a classic. The best children’s books seem more oblique with age. What 8-year-old, reading Ozma of Oz for the first time, will notice Baum’s subtle theosophist philosophy? I know I was occupied with the sparkling world of clockwork creatures and pumpkin-heads. And what child will detect the satire of Victorian society in Alice in Wonderland, especially in the subtle chapter Pig and Pepper? Even Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, may be interpreted as an example of the German tradition of “Totenkindergeschichte,” or “tales of the death of children.” Despite the wealth of scholarly opinion on this genre, I often hear a disparaging view towards children’s books from my friends. It’s the “comfort food” of literature, many people say. Yet who can make such claims in the face of bold novels such as Huckleberry Finn? It’s considered a children’s book, yet the outdated terms keep many from discovering Twain’s delicious satirical skills. Or consider the recent clash over the Harry Potter series. Like it or not, children’s literature is every bit as serious a field as adult fiction.

 Today at your local Border’s, children’s fantasy series jostle against each other, seemingly clamoring for attention. Who can tell Inkheart from Eragon from the Spiderwick Chronicles? It may be difficult to believe today, but the genre of children’s literature is still a new development. A typical Roman child would have been enchanted by Aesop’s fables. But children generally had to make do with adult stories. Medieval children sat by the fire in the great hall and enjoyed minstrels’ renditions of The Song of Roland or Beowulf, as well as miraculous fantasies like King Arthur and the often-didactic retellings of Bible stories. By the time of the European Renaissance, the most popular children’s book was a pleasant little humanist tome entitled The Book of Martyrs, a bloody anti-Catholic rant complete with pictures of gory saints. And the ever-popular morality tale resurfaced in books like The New Puritan Primer. Reading it I can imagine little gray-bonnetted girls sitting in rows, chanting “in Adam’s fall, we sinned all.” Finally, we come into the golden late-Victorian age of children’s literature, with wild nonsensical fancies like Alice in Wonderland or The Water Babies going head-to-head with more staid, wholesome fare. Little Lord Fauntleroy is probably the most loathsome example from this period. Indeed, Huck Finn himself loved nothing more than mocking sanctimonious Elsie Dinsmore-types.

 After examining its history, we may learn two truths about children’s literature. First, it’s usually didactic; that is, it contains a Lesson, cultural or moral, that children must learn. Harry will eventually triumph over Voldemort; Taran Wanderer will go on a quest to achieve honor and find his father. Of course, modern literature is far removed from the obvious proselytizing of the Secret Garden. (The main message of which, curiously enough, is environmentalism.) Children’s authors of today are skilled at hiding the wholesome intent of their work. They take a page from Emil and the Detectives, the hero of which is a “model boy because he wanted to be a model boy.” Yet what is the moral of the story, as Erich Kastner admitted? That “money should always be sent by money order.” The second truth sits uncomfortably for adults, who’ve recently shown much concern over what is “appropriate for young children.” Controversial books like A Wrinkle in Time are routinely banned from the public library. Yet the idea of the “child,” at least in Western culture, is still a new conception. Children have traditionally co-opted anything they like. Barrie originally intended Peter Pan for an adult audience, and the Grimms compiled their fairy tales as a serious academic work. Subversive themes in children’s literature are nothing new- just think of Seuss’ gleeful Cat disrupting the traditional 50’s nuclear family. Even the cozy Mary Poppins befriends old women with barley-sugar fingers, recalling Hansel and Gretel and the candy-house witch.

 In 1996, Maurice Sendak wrote in an introduction to The Phantom Tollbooth, “1961, that golden moment in American children’s book publishing…there were no seductions because there was not much money, and ‘kiddie books’ were firmly nailed to the bottom of the ‘literary-career totem pole.’” Sadly, the publishing industry has changed since then. It seems publishers care about little but reproducing the Harry Potter phenomenon. Old-fashioned classics like The Secret Language or Betsy-Tacy get lost in the shuffle of Twilight and Eragon. Gathering dust on forgotten shelves, non-fantasy novels are forgotten while young-adult novels like Criss-Cross inexplicably win the Newbery medal. But there is hope yet. In 2005, Jeanne Birdsall wrote a slow novel about four sisters, a dog, and a very interesting boy. No magic, no cell phones, set in an indeterminate time and place better described as “story-book land.” It went on to win the National Book Award and a sequel came out recently. For every poorly-written, insipid Ella Enchanted there is Shannon Hale’s Goose Girl for the balance. And Walden Media, a movie company devoted to filming children’s classics, focuses on high-quality titles like The City of Ember or The Chronicles of Narnia.

 Looking back from my somewhat advanced years (at least, since I was six), I can more fully appreciate the rich literary quality of most children’s literature. Only now do I comprehend that the Walrus and the Carpenter are not mere sadists with astonishingly large appetites, but symbols of Capitalism run amok. Moby Dick warns of the unbridled power of nature, but the Just-So stories did it quite as well- and in clear, unadorned language. And despite its dubious reputation as either Satanic or hype-laden fluff, the Harry Potter series delineates the modern tension between science and faith through the characters Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood. Pick up an old favorite and read it again. You may be surprised at what you discover. After all, as CS Lewis once said, “a children’s story which is only enjoyed by children is a bad children’s story.” May Pippi Longstocking continue delighting- and A Wrinkle in Time challenging- its readers for years to come.

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