November 2011
This month I emptied my lion’s share of the library shelf (which, with at least five avid readers in the family, is kept two books deep). Now, I am known to have a constant list of thirty books on my well-worn library card. No sooner have I depleted my stock than I discover a promising booklist, and the library calls to say I have twenty-some items to pick up. But one of my New Year’s resolutions (and I am practicing for it now) is to curtail this—how shall I say?—improvident habit. I must now request no more than two (or three) books at a time, and finish one before I request another. I hope this will allow me greater purpose and focus in accomplishing some meatier reading. (I am now working through Sir Churchill’s The Birth of Britain, and greatly enjoying it.)
All that to say, enjoy the fifteen titles I have to share with you this month!
Leonardo da Vinci is one of the most famous artists, a true Renaissance man whose accomplishments spanned the worlds of artistic and scientific invention. Despite his continued renown, much of da Vinci’s work was actually left unfinished. Even his greatest project—a huge bronze sculpture of a horse—was never realized. In his old age, da Vinci struggled with his lack of achievement; and it is said that he wept on his deathbed for that horse. Hundreds of years later, on the other side of the globe, American Charles Dent read of those tears and decided that he would create Leonardo’s horse. But Dent died before he could accomplish his dream, and it was Nina Akamuwho finally brought to reality the dream of two sculptors separated by centuries and oceans.
One danger with picture-books is that we are sometimes so enthralled by the gorgeous artwork that we overlook mediocre or poor writing. The lavish French-court illustrations here are indeed beautiful, but the story itself is baldly told, sometimes laughably so.—The fairy god-mother’s fantastic arrival in a golden cloud is described simply as “a kind stranger suddenly appeared.” None of the fancifulness of the story is communicated in the writing. Cinderella is given all the “worst chores,” which include sweeping, laundry, scrubbing steps, and dishes.—Why are these simple home-tasks considered the “worst“? Strangely, in this retelling Cinderella’s father is still alive, but remains unbelievably indifferent to his daughter’s abuse, and is absent from all but the last illustration.
I have often wondered where I would stand if living in the early years of the British and American conflict. I would strongly desire the rights that were mine as an English citizen, and yet I would be so reluctant to side with the Whigs—the most visible sector being the rowdy and even violent Liberty Boys. So I immediately felt kin to the young hero of this children’s novel. Fourteen-year old Daniel West is living in Salem, Massachusetts in the uneasy year of 1775, and he faces the same difficult decision.
Daniel is a staunch Tory. He hates and despises the Liberty Boys who leave their Liberty Gifts—piles of garbage—on the steps of local Tories; and he is sick of the hostility Whigs are constantly stirring in Salem. Daniel and his best friend Beckett Foote stand steadfastly together in their allegiance to King George; but when the conflict with England comes to a head, Daniel must reevaluate his loyalties. “England disappointed him. His father disappointed him. Then, on a night when Salem went wild, Daniel disappointed himself.”
This is a deeply conflicted story, and complex loyalties draw the reader into Daniel’s own confusion. (For this reason, I recommend the book to older children.) Daniel longs for a stand he can take proudly, but he is disenchanted with both the Tories and the Whigs. His struggle is finally resolved in a confrontation between British troops and the townspeople—a true event that nearly started the American War for Independence. (I was asking my siblings whether a long absence from novels has weakened me. I cried again!) In an attempt to deter an unwelcome friend, two boys require a test of loyalty which involves pledging allegiance to King George and plunging a wooden sword into the grave of a witch. There are also issues of disrespect towards the father.
“Bonjour! You caught me at a good time. Usually I’m working, but today I’m in a mood for change, and a weekend in your company suits me just fine.” So begins this first-person fictional account of a few days spent with the French artist Edgar Degas. Amply illustrated by the artwork of Degas and his contemporaries, the friendly text teaches readers something of Degas’s personality, family, friends, favorite haunts, painting techniques, and more. Degas might be a little long-winded for younger children, but those already interested in the artist (or ballerinas!) will enjoy all the tidbits to be found here. An appendix tells us where we can find Degas’s artwork, and another gives a basic timeline of his life. There is some immodesty, as expected, with the ballerinas.
The book is a “lyrical duet” between a mother and her daughter anticipating the arrival of Mother’s six brothers for a Thanksgiving feast. While they wait, Mother tells her daughter about the uncles and what they will all do when they arrive. “Lyrical” is an exaggeration; it is a rhyming story, but the rhythm is poorly measured. The illustrations, too, were unexceptional.
Betsy Ward, her husband Josiah, and their three young children travelled in a covered wagon to make a new home on the frontier. The Ward family, shivering in a drafty cabin and tattered clothing, wasn’t ready for the Ohio winter. What they needed, Betsy knew, was wool—and lots of it! With money carefully hoarded in a stocking, Betsy Ward buys eight bedraggled sheep—the promise of warm blankets, frocks, and pantaloons. Tragedy claims nearly all the little flock; but pioneer fortitude prevails, and Betsy Ward shears, washes, cards, spins, and weaves to keep her little family warm. This story of a mother’s love and care is based on a fragment from American history. Mr. Sanders tells it well, with sensitivity and beauty. (In a note from the author, he wrote, “Every child I know loves the sound and weight and taste of words. So I give them rackety and squished, ragamuffin, and pantaloons.”) Cogancherry’s illustrations are lovely, too. I feel cold myself, looking at the first pictures of the shivering children. The last scene—with wool clothing, a roaring fire, and dancing—was wonderfully warm. This book earns three and a half stars.
When young Mary Ellen grows tired of reading, Grampa decides it is time to find a bee tree. The two start off on a wild chase, following the flight of a honey-bee. Everyone they pass wants to join the fun, and soon there is a noisy crowd in hot pursuit of the sweet prize—baby prams bouncing, bicycles squeaking, and people shouting gladly. Later, while everyone enjoys biscuits and tea with honey, Grampa pulls Mary Ellen aside. Spooning a bit of honey onto the cover of the book and bidding her taste it, Grampa tells Mary Ellen that the sweetness to be found in books—adventure, knowledge, and wisdom—must be chased through the pages. (I have to say that the boys groaned at this didactic conclusion.) This picture-book has some exciting vocabulary: thundering stampede, streaked, clattered, galloped, clambered, and chortled. Grampa wears a “lucky” hat. One character uses the exclamation ‘Zounds!’
The Life of King Henry V. William Shakespeare. ✩✩✩
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend/ The brightest heaven of invention...” This historical play by the Bard of England centers on the famous battle at Agincourt, where King Henry V of England won an astounding victory over the French. The King’s speeches at Harfleur (“Once more to the breach, dear friends...”) and Agincourt (“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...”) remain some of Shakespeare’s best known. The drama and violence are relieved by a number of comic characters and situations—Fluellen discoursing on “disciplines of the war,” Pistol trying to extract a ransom from a Frenchman, Princess Katharine learning English, and King Henry clumsily wooing the Princess. There is some bawdy humor and s*xual references. There is some language. This play earns three and a half-stars.
I read the play because of watching Kenneth Branagh make the St. Crispin’s Day speech in his 1989 movie adaptation.—I watched it several times, and each time it sent chills running up and down my spine. The first edition which I borrowed was so cluttered with footnotes that there would be one line of the play on a page and then all notes. I went back to the library catalogue and chose the edition with the fewest pages—the New Temple Shakespeare, whose format was blessedly sparse. The necessary notes and a glossary were at the back, where I could read them if I needed to.
From the moment Danny Pickett sets eyes on Big Red, he knows the Irish setter is the dog for him. This is a dog with beauty, nobility, and great intelligence—not like the varmint hounds he and his father Ross keep. The dog’s wealthy owner, Mr. Haggin, recognizes the special bond between Red and Danny, and hires Danny to care for the champion-dog. Together, Danny and Red live, work, and learn in the beautiful but dangerous Wintapi wilderness. Their greatest enemy is Old Majesty. Big Red is the only dog to have ever bayed the big bear, but when Danny and Red must settle a score with the killer, will the confrontation end with triumph or tragedy? The book is very exciting, especially for boys; there is always something “woodsy” going on—fishing, hunting, trailing, and trapping. Spoiler! If you are planning to read this aloud, be aware that some pets (working animals, really) are violently killed. It is not very emotional, but it does describe the scenes in language that might be disturbing: “a bloody pulp,” for example. End of Spoiler! There are a few instances of language: ‘devil,’ ‘hellion,’ ‘damn,’ and ‘darndest.’ (The word ‘bitch’ is used appropriately for female dogs, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud anyway; I substituted ‘she-dog.’) There is a subtle theme of “survival of the fittest.” At a frightening part of the story, Danny is reassured by “faith in himself” and Red.
Their two older brothers love this book, so the two little boys chose it for their next read-aloud. I had never read it either, although we had all watched the Disney movie adaptation (bleh). Here are the boys’ enthusiastic reviews for Kjelgaard’s best-loved dog novel.
Third Brother (aged 9): (✩✩✩✩✩) This story is about Big Red the Irish setter. There is a big black bear called Old Majesty who kills other animals. He might kill your favorite dogs in the story. Danny also goes to a dog show.—You will have to find out where. The book is very funny when a new dog comes in!
Littlest Brother (aged 6): (✩✩✩✩✩) Mr. Haggin leaves a very special dog with Danny. I loved the end! You will have to find out who gets married. Spoiler! I didn’t like it when Red was bashed [by the bear]. End of Spoiler!
I love to read Howard Pyle aloud! A few pages in and the medieval English is rolling off my tongue. Who wouldn’t relish saying lines like, “I do soothly think that he and Sir James mean to befriend thee and hold thee privily in kind regard,” and “Go ye to Tom Fletcher, and buy of him good yew staves, such as one might break a head withal.” (That last was a favorite because so unexpected!) These chivalric adventures have so much scope for grand emotion, and I had a lot of fun being alternately brave, angry, glum, uncertain, fearful, astonished, romantic, and all else.
Thirteen-year old Myles Falworth is sent by his father—a blind and impoverished lord—to live at a castle and there learn the ways of chivalric knighthood. Only later does he learn the purpose of his careful training—the hope that he would one day challenge the king’s own champion, and restore the name and fortune of the house of Falworth. Myles is a complex character: he is noble and brave, but also stubborn and quick-tempered as a boy. The situation is also complex: his arch enemy is not portrayed as completely evil, but with his own valid purposes (as well as a good measure of unknightliness).
You cannot read Howard Pyle aloud without drawing an audience; I learned that years ago with Otto of the Silver Hand. Third Brother was my original audience this time, but he was soon joined by several brothers eager to know the outcome of Falworth’s boyhood crusade against the tyrannical bachelors. I really was surprised that my distractible eight-year old brother kept asking me to read more chapters. I thought the antiquated dialogue would be too challenging for him, but I stand corrected. This hundred-years old classic remains a favorite today.
At one point, Myles has several secret meetings with the earl’s daughter and ward. He is discovered and rebuked by the earl, and Myles afterwards abides by the earl’s boundaries in regards to the young ladies.
“This is the passover seder we shared to eat the feast that Mama made with the matza Papa brought home.” In the tradition of “the house that Jack built,” this cumulative rhyme describes the preparation and enjoyment of the Passover feast. The best part is the artwork which beautifully and realistically depicts the family seder—a little boy falling asleep during the long ceremony, grandfathers catching hungry grandsons sneaking a taste (with the grandfather’s eye never averted from the songbook), and children ransacking the house for the afikomen.
Other Books
These are the books that I revisited or did not read completely.
The Hills of Hingham. Dallas Lore Sharp. ✩✩
It wasn’t the book Mr. Sharp had intended to write. It was supposed to have been a Romantic eulogy to country-living; but after twenty years of caterpillars, moth-infested oaks, and long commutes, Mr. Sharp realized that what country-living needed was a defense.
My favorite was the titular essay (✩✩✩✩), in which Sharp weaves a number of themes into a view of life “far off and whole.” Faith is a big part of that life, and one that must be accepted in country-life. “[L]et no one try to fight several acres of caterpillars. When you see them coming, climb your stump and wait on the Lord. He is slow; and the caterpillars are horribly fast.” Waiting in faith is a difficult thing for each of us. “I would so like to help the Lord. Not to do my own share only; but to shoulder the Almighty’s too, saying—’If it were done when ‘t is done, then ‘t were well it were done quickly.’” Sharp argues in this essay for the slowness, introspection, and often uncomfortable (but grounding) realities of country life.
“The Ice Crop” describes the ice harvest and takes for its text the parable of the proud man who built big barns for a bumper crop. “Big barns are an abomination to the Lord... He who builds great barns for ice, builds a refrigerator for his soul.” Sometimes ambition does get away with us, though. In another essay, gardeners will recognize and laugh at Sharp’s huge ambition and idealism while perusing colorful “Seed Catalogues.” Other essays in this collection are “The Open Fire,” “The Dustless-Duster,” “Spring Ploughing,” “Mere Beans,” “A Pilgrim from Dubuque,” “The Honey Flow,” “A Pair of Pigs,” “Leafing,” “The Little Foxes,” “Our Calendar,” “The Fields of Fodder,” “Going Back to Town,” and “The Christmas Tree.”
Mr. Sharp has a strange doctrine of perfection, most apparent in his essay “The Dust-less Duster.” Here he heretically claims that we we have “neither a perfect Book, nor a perfect Creed, nor a perfect Salvation... for they would have posited a divine command to be perfect” and “there is no such divine command laid upon us; only such a divinely human need springing up within us.” Though a minister for some years, he apparently missed Matthew 5:48 and a few other choice texts.
Vibrant details from van Gogh’s paintings are paired with the artist’s own notes about the colors he loved. The evocative and vivid language with its occasional rhyme is a special delight to young children. Paintings include Sunflowers (“twelve flowers that are light on light”), The Bedroom at Arles (“two chairs the yellow of fresh butter”), and The Starry Night (“and in my head a starry night”).
Songs of Innocence. William Blake. Harold Jones. ✩✩
This is the second or third time I have borrowed this book from the library, hoping to discover the merit so lauded by Charlotte Mason and others. It eluded me again. Other than the well-known “Little lamb, who made thee...” and “The Echoing Green,” I did not find the poems particularly beautiful or skillful. Given it is a children’s book, a surprising number of them have to do with sorrow and death (especially loss of parents). There is one racist poem—”The Little Black Boy”—in which the black child is made like the white child in Heaven.
My two youngest brothers and I took turns reading this easy-reading biography of our current artist. It is full of interesting details; the boys were fascinated (and a little worried) by van Gogh’s practice of fastening candles to his straw hat in order to paint after dark. This is my favorite van Gogh biography for young children since it does not dwell on his mental illness and suicide. Lucas simply states that he was sick, and died because of his incurable illness.
Music
The Best is Yet to Come. Frank Sinatra. ✩✩✩✩
Littlest Sister was away for two weeks, so I got my fix of Frank Sinatra. (Littlest Sister hates Sinatra with a fury, so the treat is a rare one.) The song that stuck with me this time was the finger-snapping hit “The Best is Yet to Come.” You can listen to the original recording of the Voice at YouTube HERE. “The best is yet to come, and, babe, won’t it be fine. The best is yet to come, come the day you’re mine.”
Hebrides Overture (Fingal’s Cave). Felix Mendelssohn. ✩✩✩✩
Next Sister has just started a new composer study with the two littlest boys. Almost every afternoon they play music by Felix Mendelssohn, the “Happy One.” One piece that especially caught my attention (and that of Littlest Sister) was the Hebrides Overture, also known as Fingal’s Cave. It was written in 1830 while young Mendelssohn was touring the British Isles. In a letter to his sister Fannie, Felix sent her the opening phrase of the overture. “In order to make you understand how extraordinarily the Hebrides affected me, I send you the following, which came into my head there.” Originally called ‘The Lonely Island,’ this romantic concert overture is meant to depict the solitary beauty of Fingal’s Cave, and the power of the sea that surges round it. You can listen to the entire piece on YouTube HERE.
Friday, December 2, 2011