December 2011
I love reading aloud to my siblings, sharing my old favorites or discovering a new one with them. With so many siblings—each available at different times of the day—I have had to keep a rotation of books on the daily queue. This month it was Stuart Little (or The Twenty One Balloons or The Matchlock Gun) in the morning, The Children of the New Forest in the afternoon, and All Creatures Great and Small (with spontaneous editing) in the evening. In between, of course, I keep up a lively reading schedule for myself: mostly Sir Winston Churchill’s The Birth of Britain—the first of four volumes in his History of the English-Speaking Peoples. I was hoping to share that one with you this time, but it seems I’ll be carrying it into the new year. Still, I have The Daughter of Time and Lyra Heroica this month! Be sure to see those below.
Books Read This Month
These are books that I read entirely for the first time this month. The star-rating system expresses my personal (and fallible) opinion of the book, based on both the writing and illustration (content and quality). Specific reservations are distinguished by italics at the end of the review.
Pierre-Auguste Renoir puts on his favorite bowler hat, combs his white beard, and puts on his best navy-blue suit and favorite necktie. He is ready to spend a weekend with you—introducing you to his friends and family, taking you to his favorite places, and telling you about his life and his art. This fictional first-person-narrative is lavishly illustrated with Renoir’s paintings and drawings, as well as those of his contemporaries. An appendix tells us where we can see Renoir’s artwork, and another gives a basic timeline of his life. This book earns three and a half stars. There is a drawing of a nude women on one page (requiring two post-it “coverings”). There are three small nudes in a painting of an artist’s studio.
After completing Eileen Lucas’s little biography of Vincent van Gogh, my brothers and I returned to the Yellow House in Arles for a closer look at the fruitful but tumultuous months van Gogh spent there with fellow-artist Paul Gauguin. There were so many differences between these men.—Vincent was messy, talkative, and painted what he saw with quick, unsystematic brush-strokes. Paul was organized, quiet, and loved to paint slowly and carefully from his imagination. Although they disagreed about many things, including the right way to paint, both artists agreed that they could learn from each other. Eventually, however, their differences, financial problems, and a frightening outburst from Vincent destroyed Vincent’s hopes for a “Studio of the South.” This large book for children is overspread with bright illustrations that evoke the color and energy of Arles. These are accompanied by reproductions of paintings by both van Gogh and Gauguin. This book earns three and a half stars. I would have appreciated a little more variation in sentence structure. This book might disturb especially sensitive children: Vincent van Gogh cuts off part of his own ear in the story; and there is an illustration of him and Gauguin arguing.
In this fictional letter, Vincent van Gogh addresses his baby nephew and namesake. He shares the story of his struggles and triumphs, and talks warmly about his brother Theo and the artist friends who influenced his work. The text is amply illustrated with the paintings and drawings of van Gogh and his contemporaries. This book earns two and a half stars. Van Gogh concludes his letter with the hope that the “stars will help me find my own peace . . . For, believe me, art is magic.”
This is a cloying story about how a young girl and her grandfather rescue a caterpillar from a hungry jay, and raised it to beautiful adulthood in a decorated butterfly box. Even when the girl has grown up, the Painted Ladies visit her garden in unusual profusion. The relationship between the girl and her grandfather is sweet, but, on top of the rest of the sweetness, it seemed contrived. The text attempted lyricism and incorporated some suggested rhyme, but I think it was the illustrations—radiantly reminiscent of Thomas Kinkade—that clinched my distaste. (I had to rewrite this review several times to avoid sounding like a grump, but this book really sickened me.)
Who knew that a centuries-old case unraveled within the bounds of a hospital room could be so riveting? It had me up far past my bedtime! This fascinating 1951 novel sets the enduring Richard III mystery in the context of a modern detective story.
Grant is tired of looking at the hospital ceiling—doing geography and geometry with its minute cracks. He’s a police detective laid up after an accident and tortured by the “prickles of boredom.” An actress friend who knows Grant’s fascination with faces brings him a stack of historical portraits, each of a person connected with an unsolved case. Grant is strangely drawn to a portrait of the notorious Richard III (left). The Plantagenet king has been decried for centuries as the murderer of his two nephews, but Grant isn’t sure that Richard is the total villain history books would have him. With the help of a professional “looker-upper,” Grant uses his detective skills to unravel the facts of a centuries-old case. Was Richard III a murderous usurper or the victim of a Tudor smear campaign? This book earns four and a half stars.
This book includes some language (the worst is several instances of the word b*st*rd) and some mild s*xual references. There is one doubtful reference to the Bible (described as”misleading,” at the least in translations of botanical names).
Other Books
These are the books that I revisited or did not read completely.
Stuart Little is a quiet, thoughtful, good-looking young mouse born to human parents in New York. The episodic chapters tell us about the challenges and advantages of Stuart’s small size, his many adventures, and his search for Margalo. The “cliff-hanger” ending which the boys complain of below, is actually suited to its symbolic meaning; E. B. White said that Stuart Little was about every one’s search for his ideal. (Next Sister and I had a very interesting discussion, working out the symbolism.) Stuart Little runs away from home. Later, he goes on a date, and advises the young lady not to tell her parents (since they might object to his “somewhat” mouselike appearance). The word “darn” is used repeatedly.
Third Brother (aged 9): (✩✩✩✩✩) Stuart Little is trying to find his bird friend This book is ridiculously funny, because Stuart is born in a human family but looks like a mouse. I didn’t like the ending. It’s a horrible ending because it’s a cliff-hanger.
Littlest Brother (aged 6): (✩✩✩✩) It’s about a mouse that is born out of a human, and has our last name! I liked his little model car, and it actually runs with gas and can turn invisible. I didn’t like Snowbell [the cat] because he tried to eat a bird that I like. I didn’t like the ending because it was a cliff-hanger. There has to be a Stuart Little 2!
This book contains high-quality images of artwork by van Gogh. The boys and I used it to study and display the paintings during our study of the artist. I have not read the text of this book. There are five nude paintings/ drawings, easily covered by post-its.
The fulsome title was a little off-putting, but I admire Mr. Bloom’s vision for this collection—to give children intelligent literature from the masters. He writes in the introduction, “Anyone, of any age, reading this volume, will quickly see that I do not accept the category of ‘Children’s Literature,’ .... all too often a mask for the dumbing down that is destroying our literary culture.” Staples of great children’s literature will be found here: Aesop, Lewis Carroll, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Rudyard Kipling, and Christina Rossetti. There are also unconventional inclusions: G. K. Chesterton, Leo Tolstoy, H. G. Wells, and Stephen Crane. Don’t let the word “children” suggest simple or happy tales. I am glad of the advanced vocabulary and sentence structure (children don’t have to understand everything the first time; they enjoy uncovering the meaning over repeated readings); but I was surprised by the darkness of so many of the stories. They include ghosts, witchcraft, murder, adultery, madness, and harsh ironies. Yes, children need robust literature; but adult or ungodly themes should be kept from these intelligent but tender people.
Professor William Waterman Sherman retired from a teaching job in San Francisco, intending to enjoy a leisurely, year-long trip in a hot-air balloon; but balloons are nothing if not unpredictable. Professor Sherman floated away over the Pacific Ocean in one balloon, but only weeks later is found stranded in the Atlantic Ocean with the wreckage of twenty balloons. What happened between is a fantastic story he will reveal only at the Western American Explorers’ Club in San Francisco. This book is full of quirky humor, eccentric characters, incredible inventions, fabulous wealth, and a secret utopian society run under a Gourmet Government.
Doing “read-aloud literature” with my two youngest brothers is a thin disguise for re-reading the favorite children’s classics I wouldn’t “have time” for otherwise. This Newberry Award winner is a family favorite for its outlandish story and wonderful diagrams of fascinating inventions. (This is by the same author of The Alligator Case, a zany children’s mystery reviewed in May 2011.)
Third Brother (aged 9): (✩✩✩✩✩) A seagull makes Professor William Waterman Sherman’s balloon crash on the island of Krakatoa. I love The Twwnty-One Balloons!
Littlest Brother (aged 6): (✩✩✩✩) Professor William Waterman Sherman is found stranded in the Atlantic Ocean with twenty balloons. You will have to find out what had happened to him. I like this book because of his balloon house and the inventions.
This thick collection of essays by a Pulitzer prize winning poet was published as a housewife’s response to Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique. McGinley celebrates housekeeping as one of life’s most significant duties, an “occupation sufficient to fill a life, a heart.” The title refers to the English legend that a good housewife would “quite literally, stumble upon a fortune.” “By sixpence,” McGinley writes in her “Unapologetic Preface,” “I mean a reward. And it is the rewards as well as the challenges of creating a home which I discuss here. But the book is about other things as well—about women in general and their odd enthusiasms; about myths, manners, moralities; about husbands; about guests, books, friends, children, food, the paraphernalia of living.” McGinley has a warm, comfortable style that frequently sparkles with her gentle wit. The book is divided into three sections: the Wife, the House, and the Family.
When the king forgets to invite her to the christening, a wicked witch curses the baby princess with a lack of gravity. Not only does the princess float in air, her thoughts and words lack any weight. A royal prince seeks to woo the light-hearted princess, but how can she fall in love without gravity? It will take an ultimate sacrifice to bring the princess down to earth.
I loved the idea of the book, but was less impressed with its outworking. (I suppose that’s what happens when you read The Wise Woman first; everything else by MacDonald has paled in comparison.) I found the royal parents (all the grownups, actually) horribly ridiculous and childish; I couldn’t stand them!
Maurice Sendak’s detailed pen drawings illustrate the edition I read. There is an illustration of a naked baby; there is an illustration of the prince and princess in the lake, and it is unclear whether they are wearing anything.
Added to My Personal Library
I was so disappointed to be unwell in bed the day of the library sale; but I am grateful for two sisters who thought of me as they sorted through the stacks. I therefore have two beautiful hardback books added to my personal library—a hardback copy of Galileo’s Daughter, and an illustrated Reader’s Digest edition of The Master of Ballantrae. Both were in perfect or near-perfect condition, costing only two dollars each!
I haven’t read this book yet, but its place on an Ambleside reading list made it a sure buy. Flipping through this book seems to have confirmed its interest and worth, and I look forward to reading this sometime in the future. (Isn’t the cover beautiful, too?)
Scotland is torn by civil war, and many great families sent sons to both sides, hoping to preserve the family fortune whatever the conflict’s outcome. A flip of a coin begins a tragic, life-long feud between the two brothers of Ballantrae. Told in documentary style by the loyal and precise steward of the family, Ephraim McKellar, this story examines the evil effects of revenge, hatred, and bitterness. This is not a book for children, as it contains references to adultery and murder. (This is a review from April 2011.)
Poetry
Lyra Heroica: A Book of Verse for Boys. William Ernest Henley. ✩✩✩✩
I read about this book in a Parent’s Review article on poetry, and I was thrilled when I found our library carried it. Today, we don’t believe poetry and boys mix, but such was not the case when boys were brought up on the robust and heroic works of Shakespeare, Milton, Scott, Byron, Longfellow, and other masters.
In 1891, Henley compiled such verses as he felt “might be fitly addressed to such boys—and men for that matter—as are privileged to use our noble English tongue.” In his preface, he writes, “To set forth, as only art can, the beauty and the joy of living, and the blessedness of death, the glory of battle and adventure, the nobility of devotion—to a cause, an ideal, a passion even—the dignity of resistance, the sacred quality of patriotism, that is my ambition here.” This collection contains many heroic poems and ballads, opening with a compiled account by Shakespeare and Drayton of the Battle of Agincourt. Mythological themes and characters appear frequently in the poems.
The collection includes my favorite of Lovelace’s poems, ”Going to the Wars.”
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field,
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore:
I could not love thee, Dear, so much
Loved I not Honour more.
Friday, December 30, 2011