S.J.
If You Give a Mouse a CookieOne of my favorite books growing up was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff. As the story goes, a little boy gives a mouse a cookie. In doing so, it escalades into the mouse asking for so much more to go along with the cookie: glass of milk, straw, napkin, etc. which eventually leads back to the mouse wanting another cookie and the book ends clearly implying that the cycle continues. The mouse ends up never leaving while the boy becomes exhausted and trapped in a seemingly innocent cycle. Although the book never directly states that the boy is exhausted because of the mouse, the illustrations are clear with the mouse happy and asking for more while the boy is sitting collapsed on the floor.
I read this book incessantly as a little girl. It was a book my first grade teacher gave to me as a present and as I was very fond of her, this book became extra special. I found the illustrations to be adorable, especially the tiny mouse in his cute little blue overalls. At the time it made me want to have a pet to take care of --all the things the boy in the book got to do with the mouse. I was unconcerned with the fact that the mouse wore out the boy and left him with no time for anything else. At the time, I didn't have a lot of friends and so the idea of a pet as a companion was very appealing to me. I just wanted something that wasn't going to leave. I was tired of being the kid that everyone in class came to when they needed help, but mostly sat alone during lunch or had no one to play with during recess. Thinking about it now, maybe I was the little boy! Maybe it was a hint from my teacher.
In retrospect, I am a little embarrassed to have liked this book so much --after all the mouse just blindly and uncaringly took from the boy ñ just a pet, hardly the kind of companion I would want. Of course, there's a detail I had forgotten until I revisited the book of when the mouse asks for a broom to sweep up his hair clippings (after asking for scissors to cut his hair, after looking in the mirror to make sure he didn't have a milk mustache) and ends up cleaning the boy's entire house. This seems to be the only non-selfish thing the mouse does. However, the illustrations later show the boy having to clean up after the mouse's cleaning rampage anyway. Re-reading this book after all these years, I could not help but see it with a cynical perspective on life. Although the book was still cute and fun, and although the mouse possessed this endearing, innocent quality about him that made it difficult to dislike or refuse anything to him, I could not help but think that I have never really learned the lesson it was giving. The lesson being: to be careful how much or what you give someone because they will only keep asking for more and more. If you can't draw the line at one point and say "no" they will just continue to use you and you will be stuck in their trap.
I would still definitely recommend this book because even though I am cynical about it now, the book reveals a harsh reality in a cute and charmingly pleasant manner. I don't find the message to be too negative, either. It's simply warning to be careful with your generosity or else you will be left worn out and hurt. Although it is good to look out for others, you shouldn't neglect to look out for yourself.
T.L.
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein is a story about a little boy and an apple tree. The tree loved the little boy and it made her so happy when the boy would come to eat her apples, play in her branches, climb her trunk, and rest in her shade. But as the boy grew older he stopped visiting the tree as often and began to want other things out of life than to eat her apples and climb her trunk. First, the little boy wanted money, so the tree gave him all her apples to sell to make money, and the tree was happy. Then, he grew older and when he came back he wanted a house, so she let him cut off all her branches to build a house, and the tree was happy. The next time he came to the tree he had grown even older and wanted a boat in order to sail far away, so she let the boy cut down her trunk to build a boat, and the tree was happy. Finally, the boy returned one last time, but the tree was sad because she had nothing left to give him; however, the boy was now too old to play, too tired to climb, and his teeth were too weak to eat apples. But, this time all the boy wanted was a quiet place to sit and rest, and being that all that was left of the tree was a stump, it was a perfect place for the boy to sit and rest, and the tree was happy. The moral of this story is a great one, enlightening its readers of the gift of giving and the ability to love another thing. I would recommend this book to a friend with a child because it is a wonderful lesson of giving and the happiness that comes from helping others, which is a very important quality to instill in children at an early age, and The Giving Tree is a great example of this lesson.
When I thought back to my childhood, The Giving Tree was the first book to pop into my head. I remember making my parents read this story to me all the time. Just before bedtime we would all cuddle up on parents' king size bed and I would make my parents, usually my mother, read it over and over again until I fell asleep. Then, my dad would have to carry me to my room, where he would tuck me into bed. I would get so annoyed with my older brother because he had the story memorized, so he would recite the story as my parents tried to read it to me. Each time he interrupted to recite the next part of the story, I would make my parents start over from the very beginning; seems so "childish" now as I am thinking back on the way I would react to certain things. Listening to the story as a child, I loved that the tree talked and gave the little boy everything that he wanted, like her apples, branches, trunk. The Giving Tree always sent me off to sleep happy because the tree gave so generously to the boy, which in turn, always made the tree happy because of the unconditional love that she had for the little boy.
One of the reasons why I think that I enjoyed this book so much was that I could somewhat relate to it; growing up my family and I lived on a large property with at least one hundred avocado trees, and this was where my brother and I would always play. The little boy in the story would climb this one tree and eat its apples, and that was exactly what we did, except for we ate avocados. I had a great imagination as a child, so as my brother and I would play in our avocado trees, I would pretend that the trees would talk to me, and of course, being that I was a child, I would carry on a conversation with our avocado trees.
The language used is very simple and some of the phrases are repeated throughout the story. So, as a child, it made me better able to memorize portions of the story so that I could recite them when my parents got to those particular parts. I remember this made me feel so proud of myself, as if I were the one reading the story, considering that I did not quite know how to read on my own. Also, the story was easy to follow because it only had two characters, the tree and the little boy. And, there were a lot of pictures, and even though they were just black and white sketches, they really helped to illustrate every action throughout the story.
When I revisited The Giving Tree for the first time I had my mother read it to me over the telephone, since I did not have the book in my possession as of yet. Having my mother read me the story really took me back down memory lane because many times it was her that read to my brother and I before bedtime. However, this time hearing the story, my reaction to it was quite different. It actually made me sad and feel very sorry for the tree. As a child I thought the tree was so happy because every time she gave the boy something "the tree was happy", but this time reading the story I felt very sorry for the tree because she gave the boy everything she had until all that was left of her was a stump. Even though it made the tree very happy to give whatever she could to the boy, it made me realize how selfish the boy was to take everything from the tree, including her apples, branches, trunk. Although the friendship between the boy and the tree lasted until he was old and grey, the little boy basically used the tree to get all the things he wanted in life. When the little boy was a child he really liked the tree and loved to play with her, but as he grew older he only came to visit her when he needed/wanted something from her. And of course, being that she was a "giving tree", it made her very happy to give to, and help him. After revisiting this story from my childhood, I still believe that it is a very heart warming tale of the love between two things, and I feel, that as a young adult, I understand the true meaning behind the story, and the great moral that it portrays. And I would still highly recommend The Giving Tree to any person, young and old alike.
G.R.
Journal Exercise One
"The Truth About Stacey" by Ann M. MartinWhen I was nine years old, my mother and I made a trip to the used bookstore across the street from my dentist's office. Walking through the low door frame, I twirled around and immediately inhaled the scent of old books that floated around the tiny store. I ran as fast as I could to the "Young Adult" section in the back, filled with pride that I was finally a "young adult". My eyes scanned the shelves for the third book in a series I had just started reading, "The Truth About Stacey", from Ann M. Martin's "The Baby-Sitters Club". I stood on a step stool and pulled the sea green book off the shelf. Sitting on the stool with my eyes fixated on the image on the cover, a blonde girl in a candy store, I asked myself, "What is the truth about Stacey?"
Stacey was never my favourite baby-sitter of the series; that honour was reserved for Kristy, the spunky, bossy tomboy, of whom I was a spitting image as a child. I was always most intrigued, however, by the third book of the series, a tale chronicling Stacey's quest to understand the disease she has, diabetes, and her struggle against her parents and their obsession with taking her to every doctor on the East Coast in search of a cure. Stacey McGill, the protagonist of this particular episode, was raised in New York City on the Upper West Side, where she attended the best schools and had a life any child would envy. During her first year of middle school, Stacey has several fainting episodes during class, scaring her classmates and friends into thinking Stacey was deathly ill and contagious. After endless tests, Stacey learns that she has diabetes and must reorganize her life to prevent any further damage to her health. Like her parents, who tell no one that their daughter is sick, Stacey does not tell any of her friends about her medical condition, alienating herself from all her friends in the process. Stacey and her parents move to the town of Stoneybrook, Connecticut, a fictional town where the entire series takes place. Finding a solid group of friends she can trust in the Baby-sitters Club, Stacey joins Claudia, Kristy and Mary Anne, vowing to keep the club together in order to preserve the best group of friends she's ever had.
Stacey finds herself in the midst of two battles as the story takes off. She is a daughter fighting to make her parents understand that no doctor can rid her of her disease; she is a member of a club who is competing for the first time with a rival agency filled with older babysitters. Mr. and Mrs. McGill tell Stacey early on in the tale that they are pulling her out of school at the end of the month to visit a clinic in New York. Afraid that her constant absences from school will causes her fellow classmates to fear Stacey and her mysterious illness all over again, Stacey takes it upon herself to research this new doctor and prove to her parents once and for all that she is dealing with her illness and does not want to be shuffled around to every doctor ever to treat diabetes. The doctor, as it turns out, is nothing more than a faith healer who charges outlandish fees and orders unnecessary treatments and test to help a person handle the disease. Stacey enlists the help of a client she baby-sits for and gets an appointment with a prestigious doctor in New York to help her confirm to her parents that she is indeed okay. Stacey feels like she's really made a difference in helping her parents come to terms with her condition, but in the end, she is just a scared twelve- year old girl who needs to prove to herself, more so than her parents, that she is going to be okay.
Stacey must also deal with a new threat, the Baby-sitters Agency. A rival club, this group of girls is older, more assertive, and able to stay out as late as they want on the weekends. Stacey immediately feels that her circle of friends will be threatened if the Baby-sitters Agency effectively knocks the Baby-sitters Club out of competition. Trying to avoid the complete loss of friends she experienced at her New York school, Stacey gets to work advertising for her club and coming up with new strategies to beat the Agency, even resorting as low as wearing sandwich boards around school to recruit new baby-sitters. Stacey's only thoughts as she walks around school with a sandwich board over her back is that she hopes she does not see Pete Black, the boy she has a crush on. Stacey never stops to think that she can remain friends with these girls despite the club. In fact, Stacey never ponders whether or not the club is worth saving. Stacey's irrational fear that her friendships are all based in the club inspires her behaviour to defeat the rival agency. Of course, the story ends with the Baby-sitters Club proving to the parents of Stoneybrook that their group is filled with superior baby- sitters while the Agency falls apart and reforms as a makeover service, five dollars a session. Stacey not only feels that she conquers her parents, but she conquers her fear that the Agency will destroy her group of friends, feeling confident at the end of the story that everything will be alright.
As the oldest child of my family, the girls of the Baby-sitters Club were people that I could look up to as a nine-year old. My role as the oldest child forced me to develop an identity and personality without the guidance of siblings; reading the Baby-sitters Club books allowed me to learn from a group of seventh-graders who appeared mature, well-rounded and happy. I felt like a member of the club by proxy; I could immerse myself in any one of their adventures at any time and automatically be transported to the East Coast with the coolest girls I knew. The members of the club were people I wanted to have as my best friend, as my baby- sitter, as my older sister. Becoming attached to the books allowed me to have a small piece of their world when I felt small and lonely. The Baby- sitters Club was the best friend I could never find as a child. We were always best friends.
Looking back through the pages of "The Truth About Stacey", I finally absorbed how young the girls really are throughout the series. Ann M. Martin created four fictional girls who resemble the exact character I took on in middle school. Stacey often comments on Kristy and Mary Anne's immaturity, yet Stacey is a twelve year old girl who jabbers on about her "sort-of boyfriend" and her leggings. I would like to step into the books as an adult just to inform Stacey that leggings are not and will never be cool. While Stacey shows the promise of becoming a mature individual through her journey with diabetes, it is clear that she is no more than a child. The diction throughout the story is staged as a dialogue between Stacey and the reader, like all Baby-sitters club books. While this allowed me to connect with Stacey as a child, I now feel like I am being forced to sit and listen to my little sister after a long day at school, hearing every detail in extremely simplistic English. The roles have reversed for Stacey and me. Stacey is still the twelve-year old classy New Yorker with leggings, but I am no longer the nine-year old girl with braces and pigtails that fell in love with these characters. My rapid growth throughout high school made me realize that I was far from a suave, developed teenager in middle school and I cannot make Stacey grow up to match my changed levels of maturity. Revisiting the Baby-sitters Club only confirms my worst fears; I will never be a child again.
When I was ten years old, my godmother, a nurse on the transplant floor at the University of California hospital in San Francisco, brought me with her to "Take Your Daughter to Work Day". I followed my godmother around as she checked in with patients, filled out paper work and accomplish various tasks. It was my birthday that day and as such, all the nurses were showing me a good time, taking my blood pressure and temperature with their vast amount of gadgets. Walking down the hall to lunch, my godmother introduced me to a doctor, a pancreatic specialist who worked in the dialysis ward of the ninth floor. Attempting to explain to me what she did for a living, the doctor posed the innocent question, "Do you know what diabetes is?" I smiled and began to weave a tale of how diabetes is a condition in which a person cannot produce insulin. I talked incessantly for a good five minutes before the doctor, in complete shock that a ten year old girl had such a vast knowledge of diabetes, asked me where I had learned all this information. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "The Baby-sitters Club." Perhaps it is time to grow up and move away from my middle school persona and the lives of the Baby-sitters Club. Once my best friends, I now view these girls as figments from my past, never aging in a fictional world that I can no longer visit. I don't want to be best friends with the girls of the Baby- sitters Club any longer. Stepping back inside their twelve-year old minds only confirms my relief in no longer being a ditzy, underdeveloped girl. While I have lost the innocence that allowed me to fall in love with the Baby-sitters Club, I will always be grateful that I can talk about diabetes, sound incredibly smart, and know that I learned it all from a troubled teenage girl named Stacey McGill.
K. M.
If you Give a Mouse a CookieOne of my favorite books when I was growing up was called If you Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff. The few details of the plot that I can remember include the fact that a child offers a mouse a cookie, and the story basically describes the various things that a mouse asks for as a result of receiving a cookie. Each item is usually related to the previous item it obtained. For instance, the mouse wants a glass of milk to drink while he eats his cookie. After receiving the glass of milk, he requests a straw. His desire for other items or other activities continues until the mouse ultimately asks for a cookie, bringing the story back to the beginning and implying another series of requests.
An aspect of the book that was appealing to me as a child involved the simple language that was used to convey the story. Each page only contained one line of the story while the rest of the page portrayed a colorful illustration. These pictures made the book even more attractive because they were bright and provided visual depictions of what was happening in the story. I also enjoyed having few lines on each page because I was eager to turn the page and find out what the mouse asked for next. One of the most exciting features of the story for me was having the opportunity to guess what the mouse wanted. It was also amusing to imagine what I would ask for if I were in that situation.
I cannot remember having the book read aloud to me, but I know that I read the book to myself. I recall feeling pleased with myself because I understood how the things the mouse asked for could be connected with each other. The sequence of items or activities that the mouse desired was both entertaining and reasonable to me, especially since the plot described some of the activities that I enjoyed as a child. The mouse was able to eat cookies with milk, to take a nap, and to draw pictures like I often did, but it also did amusing things like look in the mirror for a milk mustache and trim its hair.
It was always fun reading the book on my own, but I found it even more enjoyable reading the book with my younger brother when we were in elementary school. It was interesting to observe my brotherís reactions to the story and to hear his ideas about the mouse. One of my favorite things about the book is that the story comes full circle with the mouse asking for a cookie. This allowed my brother and me to create our own story and to imagine all of the different things that mouse could ask for now that it has another cookie.
Reading the book again as a young adult was entertaining. After visiting the book again, I can see how its simplicity and illustrations appealed to me as a child. The plot was straightforward, but the situation also invites the reader to use their imagination. Having the colorful pictures on each page is another aspect that contributes to the overall enjoyment of the story because it encourages children not to become bored with the story. Although I no longer speculate about what item the mouse will request next, I appreciate how amusing the plot can be. I especially enjoyed how the mouse wanted a mirror to see if he had a milk mustache because I was reminded of the milk advertisements with celebrities posing with a glass of milk and a milk mustache.
I am not embarrassed about liking this book. It makes me smile because I am reminded of my youngest cousins who are just beginning to attend elementary school. I think that one of the reasons I still take pleasure in the book is because I am able to reminisce about when I was a child. I also look forward to sharing the story with my younger cousins and with children in general. Similar to when I used to read aloud to my brother, I enjoy seeing the reactions children have when they hear stories. I would definitely recommend the book to a friend or to another child because it is a simple book with interesting illustrations. Having pictures and a short phrase on each page can be beneficial for young children beginning to read on their own, and it can also be helpful since young children often have a short attention span. The story also allows the children to use their imaginations.
K. A.
Journal 1: "Goodnight Moon"
After considering all of the books I loved as a child, the book that stuck out in my mind was "Goodnight Moon", by Margaret Wise Brown. I can remember sitting in bed with my mom and sister and reading "Goodnight Moon", night after night. It really was the first book I remember memorizing because I was too young to actually read it myself. The book, from what I remember, is about a little rabbit that is going to bed in this green room, and the story tells of what is going on in this room before the little rabbit goes to bed, really describing the setting around the room. Then the little rabbit lists the different things he wants to say goodnight to such as the room, the moon, and the cow jumping over the moon. What I remember is the repetitive nature of the words, and the rhymes, such as "Goodnight room, goodnight moon", making it easy to memorize. I also vaguely remember the illustrations, the adorable rabbits and cats, and the colorful pictures. Each page had little themes inside of the original; you could watch the little bunny, or the cats playing on the floor, or the nanny bunny knitting in the corner, each character creating its own story of motion and antics throughout the book. However, the theme that I still love about this book is the little mouse that is in every picture of the little rabbits room, I can remember my sister and I searching the page to be the first to point out the mouse, even though we had read the book hundreds of times and knew every picture by heart. The story ends with the little bunny asleep in the last illustration, saying "goodnight noises everywhere"; I still remember that last line.After finding the book stashed away in the attic at home I read through it, slowly remembering each page. I now see the simplicity of the words; the first page showing a little rabbit in a large bed sitting in a "great green room", the text lists the objects in the room; the telephone, red balloon and the pictures on the wall. I think the simplicity of the text is what makes it so simple to read and memorize for little children. Something I didn't remember about this book was that every other page was colored, and the others were black and white. The black and white pictures show parts of the room such as the pictures on the wall or the mouse. But the illustrations of the room are very vibrant and colorful. Something I now remember after reading the book was the way the illustrations start to darken towards the end of the book telling the reader that it is now night time and the little bunny is slowly falling asleep.
Although I am now twenty when I am reading this book, my feelings towards it have not changed. It is such an adorable book with interesting pictures and little characters. I still looked at each page and spotted the mouse in every one. The plot is so simple, a little bunny saying goodnight to everything around him, every noise, every star, the air, and his mush, a theme so simple yet so entertaining and intriguing to little kids. My mom gave a copy to my Aunt when she was expecting her first child and he is now three and still reads it with his mom before going to bed, he too has memorized it well and will correct you if you skip a single word. He also points out the little mouse and kittens playing on the ground, as I did. It just shows the timeless quality of this children's book, I read it when I was little, my cousins have read it as well, and I'm sure my children will read it. There is just something about this book that draws readers in and entertains, even though for a short while seeing as the book is 16 pages long with very little text. It is a quality that is indescribable, children grow up and the books resonate and are remembered into adulthood, for me such books as "Madeline" or "The Runaway Bunny" or "Angelina Ballerina", but especially Goodnight Moon. They still bring a smile to my face when I find them in the bookcase at home or up in the attic. I would give this book to any child, because it is always loved and remembered. It is something that is attached to some of my childhood memories so I think I almost appreciate it more today than I did then because of those connections.
J.A.I first started "reading" A Friend for Keypers when I was four years old. The words on the pages flowed through my lips almost graciously and I never, not once, mispronounced a passage. Even as a young child, I knew how to keep the story going by fluctuating my tone of voice here or adjusting the speed of my narration there. Every night before bed, I'd ask my mother if she would read to me from this book and every night without fail, I would obnoxiously steal her thunder so to say, by interrupting her literary performances with those of my own. In my mind, I was a much better interpreter of this majestic tale. I remember one night in particular when Jenny, the neighbor girl who was only 2 years older than me came for a sleep-over. At nighttime, as usual, I pulled out my favorite white-bound book with the pictures of dinosaur/snail-like creatures on the front and began my nightly ritual. Jenny, who was six and just learning to read in school was amazed at my clarity and diction (or at least she would have been if she had know what those things were). Twenty minutes later she ran home crying, telling her mother that it wasn't fair that I could read and she couldn't. A few years later, when I finally figured out that I wasn't actually reading per say, but instead reciting memorized sentences, I felt a little guilty for making her feel that way.
In addition to the nature in which I used this book, I also remember tiny bits of information about its basic plot, characters, and genre. It was after all a children's book, but even more specifically, a "little girl's book." The illustrations themselves were brightly colored in all shades of pinks and purples, and on every page there were shiny and glimmering gemstones, hearts, lockets, butterflies, and cherries (odd combination, I know). The main characters, like I mentioned before, were odd dinosaur and snail-like creatures whose outer shells were also engraved with twinkling stars, diamonds, candies, and flowers. They were night creatures, things that snuck under children's beds while they slept and collected lost items ("keypers"). And so the story goes- Allison, the main character is upset at not being able to find something (I don't know what) and after looking under her bed, finds Sheldon (the snail thing) who has her item but apparently cannot find the key to his shell, where is safely secured. On and on and on... they eventually travel to a majestic land of wonderment, set out on many seemingly futile journeys, come across some nasty characters (a crow I think) and then eventually find the key and her treasured item, a locket.
Looking back on this story as an adult, I am still amazed with a few aspects of the book. The pictures for one (and I don't know if I'm still stuck in that whole "little girl...oooh shiny things are pretty" phase or it's just a good marketing ploy that has endured the test of time) are awesome. Everything is bright, busy, and beautiful. Also, as I read it through a second time, I realized how very much it reminds me of Disney's Alice in Wonderland. Some of the same aspects of that story (falling through a long mysterious tunnel with cupboards, keys, and other trinkets lining the way; her following a smaller, talking animal through a magic land; and a lack of time as a very important theme) are also present in A Friend for Keypers. Even more ironically, the girl's name is Allison which sounds a lot like Alice. I also noticed a very cliche plot wherein the main characters face a dilemma, have a time constraint, travel through enchanted lands, face at least three dead ends before finding the solution, and in the end, live happily ever after. It now seems very cheesy. Why then did I find it so fabulous as a child? I think one of the main reasons I loved it so much was because of the pictures. The entire book is very enchanted looking and there is a severe overdose of pink on every page. I love it And I guess I appreciated the moral as well, which seems to be something like "Good things come to those who help others." So, in that case, with the obvious appeal of this very froofy and sugar plum fairy type story, and the added bonus of a noteworthy moral at the end, I would definitely recommend it to friends who have children. I will no doubt keep this book for the rest of my life, re-reading it periodically and eventually sharing it with my children as well.
T.G.
It is said that the sense of smell is intimately tied to memory, and a specific odor can conjure up vivid recollections. In my case, recalling one of the books I read in my formative years brought back the sights and sounds, as well as the smells, associated with reading Robert Heinlein's "Podkayne of Mars." I must have read it in its entirety in the Josephine Louise Public Library in my hometown, as I could easily picture the inside of the library as it was over 25 years ago after thinking about that particular book. Prior to rereading the book, I could recall very little concerning the plot, and had only a vague idea of who the main character was, but the title brought back memories of the dark wood-slab table at which I sat, the faint smell of rubber or vinyl from the runner on the circular stairs leading to the second story, and the sticky sound of steps on the linoleum up there, which was not quite properly attached to the floor. The library was always very quiet, as a library should be, but for the creak of the wooden stairs and that odd ripping, sticking sound as someone browsed the stacks on the second floor. These sounds would not have distracted me from the story, however. At that time, much more so than now, I was able to become totally immersed in the adventure at hand.And Heinlein's series of juvenile novels were always full of adventure. "Podkayne..." was the first of these I read, and I quickly sought out and read everything else of his that I could find, some of which were certainly not intended for a young audience, but I enjoyed them anyway. These juveniles always seemed to have similar elements: the main characters were teenagers or younger; they were very smart, usually smarter than the adults around them; they always found themselves in dire straits, often of their own making; and they were able to save themselves and those around them using their high intelligence and advanced knowledge of mathematics and science. These intelligent and strong young characters appealed to me as an awkward preteen in need of role models with no professional sports affiliations. I soon discovered similar, though earthbound, characters and plots in Jay Williams' Danny Dunn series, followed by years of reading increasingly scientific science fiction. I cannot be certain which came first, my proclivity for science and engineering, and thus the reason why this type of literature kept me in thrall, or my consumption of these books, which then influenced the path of my professional life. In any case, I am certain that the two are intimately connected.
The little I could remember of the plot of "Podkayne..." was that the title character travels into space with her family, trouble ensues, and the young people save the day. Upon rereading the book, I found this vague recollection to be mostly correct. Podkayne Fries travels with her younger brother Clark and Uncle Tom from their home planet of Mars to Venus on the interplanetary spaceship Tricorn. The novel is written in the first person as her purported diary. Her dream is to become a spaceship captain herself, so the reader is treated to a number of mini-lectures on the difficulties of astrogation, ballistics, vector course corrections and the like. These are probably just the types of things that captured my attention long ago. Upon reaching Venus, Clark disappears; Podkayne attempts to rescue him and places them both in danger. After some close scrapes, everything comes out happily in the end.
There were some disappointing differences between the remembered and actual "Podkayne..." I had forgotten that Heinlein included numerous political rants in his work, which I probably ignored when I was younger. They are now more difficult to ignore, but add very little to the plot. There was also a lot of chauvinism in the book, even though it was written from a female point of view. It seems as if Heinlein is trying to create a strong female character, but when a dangerous situation develops, each gender reverts to stereotype. I was extremely disappointed when Poddy was rescued by her brat of a brother in the end. This served to undermine all of her positive traits and leaves the reader with the message that she had to be saved by a stronger male. When I was 11 or 12, I probably liked that little twist, but this time found it annoying. I plan to revisit some of the author's other works, such as "Friday," and see if this is an isolated case of gender prejudice.
While I enjoyed returning to my reading roots, and was thoroughly pleased with the majority of the book, I would hesitate to recommend it, only because of the negative stereotyping message at the end. If I had a young child, I would not want him or her to come away with the idea that girls are weak and cannot save themselves. I hope that when I reread "Starman Jones" or "Have Space Suit - Will Travel," the chauvinism will at least be less pronounced. I think I'll go stick my nose in a book and find out.
L.D.
A Look at The BFG by Roald DahlOne of the top ten books I adored as a child was The BFG by Roald Dahl. My second grade teacher Ms. Plumly first introduced it to me through an in class reading. She was a lovely lady and a wonderful storyteller. She could bring the pages alive with her tone fluctuations and facial expressions. For me her feigned gruff voice will always be that of the evil giants in The BFG. Her initial contributions are as much a part of the book for me as the characters themselves. I believe that it was much of her enthusiasm that initially peaked my interest in the book. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with it though and that following summer the little tom-boy child I was who ran around and never stuck her nose in books much, sat down and read the tale again.
Before rereading The BFG for this assignment I made an effort to write what I could remember of the plot and how the story had made me feel. The elements of the plot I could recall consisted more or less of the bare essentials of the story. I remembered that it involves a little girl who becomes friends with "the BFG" (Big Friendly Giant). The BFG is an interesting character who catches and anonymously gives beautiful dreams to people. He enjoys seeing people happy and in the land of giants amongst his evil peers he is the only one who doesn't eat human beings. Because of his honorable lifestyle though, he has to be subjected to eating the only other food available, the disgusting cucumber-type vegetables that grow in giant land. Stemming from this, his soft heart and kind nature the other bigger giants pick on him.
Another interesting characteristic that I remembered about the BFG was his tremendous hearing ability. I recall being struck by the fact that his gargantuan ears could hear ants chattering while they worked and flowers scream when they were picked. With this skill and his dreams the BFG and the girl work together to do away with the bad giants with the help of an ingenious plan. They give the Queen of England nightmares to show her the truth of the bad giants and their horrible man-eating ways, convincing her to take action. In the end the English army and the BFG capture the other giants and imprison them in a deep whole. As a final punishment the only food they are given is the same disgusting cucumbers the BFG had to endure in all his years of abstaining to eat people. Of course everything works out in the end with a classic "happily ever after".
More than just the plot I remember the content and secure feeling the book afforded me by acting as the launch pad for many imaginative travels in my head. I could take hold of its ideas and fly to many new places. I liked to daydream of having a kind giant friend of my own upon whose shoulder I could ride around on. I would think about all the places and things I could see. Along the same lines I also liked to think that my night-time dreams were from a good giant. In this manner I created ways in which I could relate to the story more directly making it all the more real for me.
In rereading The BFG I was first struck by many of those, "Ah, I remember that!" moments. Initially it was fun exploring a direct link to my childhood but it quickly became interesting on another level. Examining The BFG through the lens of an adult allowed me to see things I never came close to perceiving as a child. One area that I found to border almost on the line of being offensive was with the BFG's description of how different races taste different to man-eating giants, "`Greeks is all full of uckyslush. No giant is eating Greeks, everŠGreeks from Greece is all tasting greasy"(26). As a child I didn't make any outside connections with this, probably just because of my innocence to the world, and it is interesting to look back and realize something like this was in the text. While reading there were a few other passages that stood out to me for various reasons. The first of which was, "You is deaf as a dumpling compared with me!Š You is hearing only the thumping loud noises with those little earwigs of yours. But I am hearing all the secret whisperings of the world!'"(43). This comes from the BFG to Sophie the little girl. I just thought this was beautiful quote because to me it represents, and this is especially true with the last sentence, the book's ability get the mind to wonder and imagine about the mysteries the world holds.
Another quote that struck a chord for me was in a passage discussing the atrocities of giants eating people, "`But if all these people are disappearing every night, surely there's some sort of an outcry?' Sophie saidŠ `Do not forget,' the BFG said, `that human beans is disappearing everywhere all the time even without the giants guzzling them up. Human beans is killing each other much quicker than giants is doing it" (78). This is a very deep message for a children's book and I think Dahl's approach in describing it is effective. He is able to translate a grown- up issue into terms his young audience can understand by making associations between make-believe and real-life. I find this to be an interesting tactic.
I really enjoyed taking another look at The BFG. Aside from the reminiscing of childhood it facilitates it has adult messages clothed in writing for children. Going into this assignment I was a little worried that rereading The BFG through a different perspective would ruin its "magical" properties for me but I am relieved to say that it didn't. Quite the contrary, many of things I enjoyed as a kid I appreciated all the same this time, perhaps even more so being on a different level. I can easily see why I loved the book so much and will continue to do so. And after all, young or old, who doesn't enjoy a good "wizzpopping" now and then?
M.C.When I was about 7 or 8 years old, there was one author whose books I read more than any other's: Tomie de Paola. A grandfather-like figure who I had the opportunity to meet at the ecstatic age of 8, Tomie's wrote books that had a timeless quality I was mesmerized by as a kid. His stories were old-fashioned fables, usually involving well-meaning characters who make simple mistakes that result in sometimes catastrophic - though reversible - results. Tomie illustrated each book himself, and it is his drawings that have made a lasting impression on me. I can still remember some of the images - they had a timeless quality to them, as though they had been drawn hundreds of years ago. The characters were simple in design, and the colors had a faded, washed-out look to them that had my 8 year-old mind thinking I was reading something for the ages. I cherished this man's books.
One dePaola book that has stood out in my mind more so than the rest is 'Strega Nona.' From what I can remember, it is the story of a magical old woman living in a small Italian village. She takes on a well-meaning apprentice who accidentally wreaks havoc on the town. Strega Nona saves the day, of course, and all's well that ends well. I'm having trouble remembering specifics but I think the story also involved copious amounts of spaghetti. I remember being enthralled by the magical elements of the story, and wondering at the possibility of whether a woman like Strega Nona ever really existed. The clear, confident storytelling and simple, faded drawings gave the story an authenticity, or at least it did to a 7 year old.
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Having just read Strega Nona again, I have a greater appreciation and understanding of what I found so great about this book when I was a kid. The story is actually not really about Strega Nona at all, but rather about her assistant, Big Anthony. Strega Nona means 'Grandma Witch' in Italian, and this is indeed what Strega Nona was. Though talked about in whispers by the townspeople, she was respected and revered by all, and many people went to see her if they were ill or were having problems with love. Strega Nona was getting old, however, and she needed someone to assist her at her home, so she could focus fully on her magical duties. Big Anthony, "who didn't play attention," went to see her. He became her full-time assistant and helped her around the house and in the garden. Strega Nona gave him a nice place to sleep and great meals every day. But one night, Big Anthony caught Strega Nona singing a spell over a pasta pot. By singing certain lines, the old woman was able to make the pot produce endless amounts of spaghetti. By singing a different set of lines, she was able to stop the pasta. But Big Anthony had gotten so excited by the show that he did not see that Strega Nona blew 3 kisses to the pot after she had finished singing.
When she left town on an errand, Big Anthony realized it was his big chance to be famous and loved by the town. He invited the skeptical townspeople to come to Strega Nona's house, where he would provide them all with all the spaghetti they could eat! He sang the first song, which caused the spaghetti to form in the pot, and it was enough to feed everyone in the village. After everyone was full, he triumphantly sang the second song, and assumed that the pasta had stopped. Imagine his surprise when the pasta kept coming! Soon the pasta had nearly covered the entire town, and people were blaming Big Anthony for all of the misfortune he had brought upon them. But luckily, Strega Nona arrived just in time, sang the song, blew 3 kisses, and stopped the pasta. Some of the townspeople demanded he be hung, but Strega Nona said, "the punishment must fit the crime." She grabbed a fork from a nearby woman and told Big Anthony, "you wanted pasta from my magic pasta pot, and I want to sleep in my little bed tonight. So start eating." And that's just what Big Anthony did. He ate all of the pasta, all the way back to Strega Nona's little cottage.
This story is a wonderful tale for children, because it shows that even well-meaning people can make innocent mistakes, but that mistakes can have big consequences. Big Anthony wasn't a bad guy, but he wanted to be admired by the townspeople, and he took for granted what Strega Nona had already given him. I really understood this moral as a little kid, and I appreciated it. I remember thinking how I would have probably done the same thing as Big Anthony, and being glad that I was able to learn from the story so I wouldn't make the same mistake. More than anything, however, I remember being in awe of all that pasta! Spaghetti was one of my favorite meals as a little kid, and it still is to this day. I was so excited when my mom told me she was making her spaghetti, because I thought she made the best spaghetti in the entire world. When I read Tomie dePaola's book, Strega Nona's magical pot was like a dream come true. I thought about how I would eat pasta from it five times a day, and never get sick of it. I really wanted a magical pasta pot of my own. 'Strega Nona' is a timeless story for children, with a wonderful moral and a magical world that speaks to people of all ages. I will definitely read this story to my own children someday.