May 01, 2008
The books are currently not arranged or alphabetized. Do you have any idea how twitchy that makes me?
Anyway, both Nick and Nora like to be read to. They like book after book after book, although their threshold for books has no leeway - they're on your lap being read to, they're happy, they're happy, they're happy, STOP READING IMMEDIATELY. My children - already masters of what they tolerate and don't tolerate.
The thing you don't realize about children's books until you start reading them - this because your memories of your childhood books are wonderful treasured things coated with sticky strawberry jam and Pixie Stix dust - is just how fucked up some of these books really are.
No really.
Occasionally I'll be reading one of these and thinking: What the hell is this all about? And what profound psychological impacts will this have on the kids? To which the babies rubbish me and say "Seriously, Mom, you're way overthinking again. Now turn the page before I get screamy."
I'll give you some examples.
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I love aliens. I love underpants. It stands to reason that this book would be right up my alley, so I bought this one. It has cheerful, bright illustrations. The aliens are all friends. The aliens are all happy.
The aliens also come to Earth and steal our foundation garments. The bad news is grandmas are apparently stuck back in the 1920's, and their bloomers are considered big fun for those aliens with slightly transvestite preferences. The other bad news is apparently "Mummies wear pink frilly things", so I need to hide my period-time granny panties from the babies as they grow up, so as not to disabuse them of the notion that mummies spend their time prancing around in peachy underthings.
The aliens take our knickers off the washing line and prance around in them at night before hanging them back up on the line in the morning. Let's hope they don't leave skidmarks.
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Maybe they don't, but fish sure as shit are cannibals.
Those would be fish enjoying a little lox on their bagels while wearing the very same fishing hats they wore while reeling in their Cousin Bob.
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This one - sent by the lovely Aunties CTG and ZTZCheese, is a classic. Seriously. Sendak need not bow to anyone. But I do have a hard time reading this page and keeping a straight face:
It must be because I can't get past the milk jug on the kid's head.
Yeah, that's it.
I hope Nick doesn't get a complex from looking at this page and sizing up his own milk jug.
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Varmints is an amazing book. The illustrations are stunning, the message incredible, and I want absolutely every book that this author and the illustrator collaborate on. But I do wonder a bit if this book is aimed more for adults than kids.
Those two pages read: "It touched and warmed the hearts of those few who paused and cared to listen..../Then one day OTHERS came, and the sound of bees was lost."
The OTHERS? Ben, is that you?
Then you come to these pages:
Those white dots on the left hand page? Those would be the creepy faces of the OTHERS. I can see this is one book the babies may read when they're older, lest I have to bunk down on the floor with them and assure them that the OTHERS are not, in actuality, under the bed waiting for the babeis to fall asleep so they can steal their souls and trade them for some red crayolas.
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A classic. Absolute classic. A beautiful, tear-inducing book that makes me choke up every damn time I read it. I love it, it's a book about a mother who says the same poem again and again to her son as he grows up (and naturally I've plagiarized the poem and say it to my son).
What I don't love is this:
The mother takes a bus across town, lets herself into her adult son's house, and whispers the poem into his ear before leaving again.
What. The. Fuck.
"Hey, kids! We love having you, and when you grow up someday we'll stalk you to constantly remind you of how much we love you! Better not bring home the ladies and try for some action, m'kay? Wouldn't want to blow your dear old mom's ticker out, would we?"
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Finally, there's this one:
My folks brought it over as part of a lot of 75 Dr. Seuss books they won on Craigslist for me. I love all the books, and I especially love that the books are old and well-used, because to me that makes them more special. But I don't love this one. Why? Well, since it was written in 1959 it pretty much takes all the major political incorrect issues, urinates on them, sticks a funny hat on them, and buys them all a pint.
I give you the middle of the book:
Why yes, that does say "There are many Indiands here. One of the Indians looks after the plane." Presumably thie author intended the Indian to take care of the White Man's plane after the Indian was done hunting heap big buffalo and smoking peace pipe with Runs Like the Wind. Perhaps the author felt the need to call him an Indian and dress him up in the latest of Wild West schmaltz to make a point, although what that point is I cannot possibly imagine. I've been around a lot of Native Americans in my archaeology days, but not once were any of them dressed like that. I have however encountered a number of stupid white people who dressed like that in some nonsensical attempt to impersonate a Native American, so maybe the author meant to say "substitute Indian".
My real issue with Ann Can Fly though comes from the part where Ann squeals and hopes other girls can see her and maybe they'll be in an airplane someday, too! Isn't that exciting! People with vaginas are allowed up in the air! Ann can fly even though she's a girl! I mean, you couldn't have a book called Dan Can Fly because Dan is a Man. Man Dan can fly already. Man Dan uses his huge stonking penis to control the throttle, propping up his giant tree trunk man thighs on the dashboard while making jokes about the stock market and reading a map without having to land at a gas station and ask directions. But Ann, well, Ann's a little useless. Ann's just a girl. Flying is hard, Barbie.
If I read this one to the babies I'm going to explain that Ann's stupidity was due to her being dropped on her head as a baby and not due to her having two X chromosomes. Girl's can not only fly, but we'd never bump the plane while parking it.
-H.
PS-Lily, are you here? How do you pronounce that word "pech" that you and Clancy mentioned yesterday? That's my new word.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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