last night Alex was sick so we didn’t really read as normal, but his latest previous book selection was Fox in Socks, by Dr. Seuss.
Alex has picked this book about five times this month. Damn you, Dr. Seuss, you clever bastard, I still can’t read it through without screwing things up at least once. I think Alex enjoys daddy’s failure to read through the book without tripping over his tongue like Jack Box saying “chipolotole”. I know I would were I in his footie pajamas.
Small nitpicks: the fleas flying through the freezing cheese trees could stand an illustration, and I’ve drawn better roses than Dr. Seuss managed here. Other than that, an outstanding effort. Four and a half Pochaccos.
last night’s bedtime book: Thomas Breaks a Promise, of uncredited authorship, illustrated by Richard Courtney. Here at the house, we have Thomas and the Treasure, a DVD that we ripped off from the library; we have this book; and we have a few Thomas trains that grandma got for Alex. He really loves all this stuff, and I can see why; the addition of friendly faces to the convenient blank canvas of the front of a steam engine is an awesome merchandising idea. Alex digs trains in general, and trains with faces–watch out now!
Despite being one of Alex’s favourite books, this one is all the pablum you’d expect from a children’s book written by a branding committee. The most interesting aspect of the Thomas material that Alex has is front and center here, though, as Sir Topham Hatt elicits the promise that Thomas makes (possible spoiler: and then breaks in the book’s climax). If you aren’t familiar with the Thomas stories, from the stuff I’ve seen Hatt is The Man on the island of Sodor’s railways, keeping the trains in line and running on time. The thing about Hatt I find fascinating is that he appears to be a total dickhead. In his really difficult job of keeping things running on a small island with an amazing retinue of trains at his disposal, he curtly issues orders, happily passes out harsh words and punishments for infractions, and rarely has a kind word for anyone. Sometimes I wonder if the Hatt character (and others in children’s media that I’ve been exposed to, like Mister Websley from Leap Frog’s Letter Factory series) is written the way he is to program kids subconsciously to put up with this shit when they join the work force.
Anyway, Richard Courtney’s artwork here is superficially impressive, but keep an eye on the trains–things like noses and eyes wander in placement from one page to another. I think he knew he was slumming to take this job on.
Drawbacks aside, at least the book doesn’t hop the tracks into a total marketing meltdown with come-ons to buy the seventeenth engine in the Sodor line or something. It’s just an uninspiring, vanilla book, and we give those two Pochaccos around here.
last night’s bedtime book: Mary Engelbreit’s Mother Goose, by Mary Engelbreit. The subtitle of this book is “One Hundred Best-Loved Verses” but I’m pretty sure there aren’t 100 people worldwide who love some of these nursery rhymes; once you get past the old stand-bys like “Humpty Dumpty” nursery rhymes quickly degenerate into uselessness in my experience.
Nobody’s hiring Engelbreit for her taste in nursery rhymes, though–they want the pictures. You’ll find some neat work with patterns and textures among the gingerbread in this volume, but the most striking thing about Engelbreit’s work is her very shaky grasp of perspective and the vanishing point. For that, and the idea that a compendium of nursery rhymes was a necessary or desirable thing, I have one and a half Pochaccos.
last night’s bedtime book: Paddington at the Zoo, by Michael Bond. This book gets off to a rollicking start by having the zookeeper threaten to ban Paddington from entry because there are no pets allowed; R W Alley’s illustration of Paddington giving the fellow a hard stare is humorous. This entry in the Paddington series also features the most sophisticated two-sentence description of penguins I’ve ever read, and it is the only story in the series that has a villain–a cad who would steal a marmalade sandwich from a cute stuffed bear doesn’t deserve to live.
Of course, you don’t have to take such a hard line when you’re explaining the book to your kid. I’m going to wait until Alex is three before I give him that summary of the action.
Paddington at the Zoo has all the positives of Paddington at the Palace with none of the drawbacks. This is another solid children’s book in the Paddington canon (Alex has the Paddington Suitcase, which we got in China). I’ll read anything Alex chooses from his bookshelf so far, but I’m always secretly happy when Alex picks any of them.
last night’s bedtime book: The Monster at the End of This Book, by Jon Stone. I don’t know whether I had this book myself as a yout, or if I just ran across it as an older child in some younger kid’s book collection, but I was immediately familiar with it when Alex first chose it as his bedtime story though I don’t remember reading it before. Starring lovable, furry old Grover of Sesame Street fame and a mysterious monster at the end of the book, your kid will enjoy the Grover illustrations and you’ll enjoy some of the funnier-for-adults stuff that Grover says.
There’s not a lot of substance here, but still, it’s a solid choice. Three Pochaccos.