Honey for a Child's Heart

Every family has its own way of speaking. It’s partly the result of the community we live in, and our extended family. Families have their own language. Different parts of the country have habits of expression. It’s likely that you use some of the same phrases your mother or other family members used. One of my southern friends told me a story involving her sister and added at the end, “You know, she is great-with-child.” She spoke those last three words as one adjective describing her sister. I had to stop and figure out that the sister was pregnant!

We call the people who live in the upper peninsula of Michigan Yoopers, and they are often identified because they say “youse” as a plural you. Think of your own family and geographical location and come up with other examples. It might be fun to list them. One has to be careful, however. I heard a Yooper auctioneer ask the crowd to “quieten down.” That’s kind of a humorous, delicious expression, I thought. And then I looked it up in the dictionary and found it a legitimate word:

Quieten: to become quiet.

The more serious idiosyncrasies are usually grammatical—and these are the subject of this post. Grammar does matter. You can send a child into the world thinking that “him and me” are legitimate subjects of a sentence and never realize what a handicap you have given that child. Let a child say, “Her and I” will walk to school together? No. No. No. Thrice no. It’s like wearing a negative label each time such an utterance hits the sound waves. The strange thing is that university graduates talk like this, so it is not lack of education. It’s habit, and it’s thoughtless habit. You grew up hearing people talk this way, but it is jarring to the ear—and certainly puts a roadblock in the path to success.

Sentences have subjects (nouns or pronouns) usually followed by a verb which is followed by the direct object of the verb. Him, me, and her are direct objects of a verb. Your ear tells you. I is a pronoun, the subject of the sentence. You would never say Her go to school. But you can say I go to school. The trouble comes with combining a pronoun and an object as the subject of the sentence. It is she and I go to school, not her and I. When in doubt, try one subject-choice alone with the verb. Your ear will tell you.

The most common error (even among news commentators) is to make I the direct object of a verb. “He would not go with you and I.” Try it out. You would not say “He would not go with I.” No, it sounds ridiculous. Because I is not a direct object. Instead, say, “He would not go with you and me.” It is most often misused in sentences like this, “It is plain to you and I….” It doesn’t sound wrong at first, but what if you took out the words you and? You wouldn’t say “It is plain to I…” The correct sentence reads, “It is plain to you and me!”

You may be thinking, Who cares? Well, YOU care. It’s a matter of breaking the habit and being conscious of a dreadful habit of making direct objects into the subject of sentences. Gentle does it in correcting children. Usually they don’t repeat what they haven’t ever heard!

Years ago when we visited France for the first time, someone gave us tickets to see Marcel Marceau, the world-famous mime. It was a delight! Partly because we didn’t have to struggle with the language to get his message, and mostly because he was so good! We got the heart of the stories he told by his bodily expressions. In fact, it was an emotional evening.

It’s amazing what you can communicate without words. I remember one time my husband came into a room where I sat with an elderly Italian woman who couldn’t speak a word of English and, knowing I couldn’t speak more than a word of Italian, he was astonished to find me in tears. I quickly explained, “She is telling me about her husband’s death.” That confused him more than ever. “And you could understand?” he queried. Yes, somehow I did. I think I got it right, I think…

Yet for all of the adventure of guessing and interpreting, I want to spend the next few posts talking about the incredible gift of language and its responsibilities. Words are to be cherished. So many nuances of meaning come through language—both to build and to tear down lives. Language is a two-way street. We can ask questions to clarify; we can get more information as well as give it. I think, for example, that my Italian friend’s husband had been killed in World War II, but I am not certain of the circumstances. How long had they been married? How had they met? I only know part of her story, and I cannot really know her pain unless I know more of it.

A few posts ago I wrote about children books illustrator David Small and his wordless cartoon drawings about growing up in a dysfunctional family. (The book is called Stitches.) His drawings show his mother’s angry face, slamming cupboards doors, giving him disapproving looks. She didn’t reveal herself with language. She left him confused, and did untold damage to his life. Language is a responsibility. We have to learn how to use it to build other people.

I love words and what they do when they are well-crafted in sentences that make you think and feel and understand. I like to talk about what words do in stories to open up a child’s imagination and widen his world. The right word in the right place! Remember Mark Twain’s quip that the difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug.

But I also want to alert you to ways you influence your child’s future by your own use of language in family life.

In Ruth Krauss’ The Growing Story (1947) a small boy sees everything around him growing during the summer but worries that he can’t see any change in himself. His mother tells him he is getting bigger, but he scarcely believes her until he tries on last winter’s clothes. Krauss has a way of writing these wonderful simple stories about what children know and feel. In the re-issue of this book Helen Oxenbury’s wonderful full-color watercolors make the characters fairly jump off the page—as when the small boy somersaults across the final pages, shouting, “I’m growing, too! The illustrations in this book make the original edition seem pale and lifeless, even though it was retro-charming. Here’s a case of a reissue that is a winner.

The books of another favorite children’s writer, Charlotte Zolotov, are also being reissued. Her story A Father Like That (1971) has had a dramatic facelift. In the somewhat melancholy story, a little boy says in a matter-of-fact way, “I wish I had a father. But my father went away before I was born.” He tells his mother what his father would be like if he were around—that his father would bring him books when he was sick, would know all his friends’ names, and not make him wear his green shirt. His mother’s response, “I like the kind of father you’re talking about. And in case he never comes, just remember when you grow up, you can be a father like that yourself!” The two-color ink and wash illustrations in the original edition showed a middle-class suburban family with spreads of barbecues, a stay-at-home mother, Little League games, etc. The new edition has full-color painting by LeUyen Pham of an African-American family in an urban setting. Zolotov’s words fit both kinds of illustrations, but this edition will give the book new life.

Other works like those of Roger Duvoisin’ Donkey-donkey (1933) which has been reissued with his own original illustrations. It tells the story of a nice little donkey who is unhappy with his long ears. He tries to change his appearance by wearing his ears sticking out sideways like a sheep, forward like a pig, and down like a dog. He is rescued from this disaster by a sparrow who tells him just to be himself.

Nicolas, Where Have You Been? (1987) by Leo Lionni tells a story of tolerance that fits today’s world. Nicolas and his fellows are young mice who hate birds because they eat all the best berries and leave none for the mice. Then an accident lands Nicolas in a bird’s nest where he is treated with amazing kindness and he learns that “one bad bird doesn’t make a flock.” Nicolas plays the role of a hero in stopping the plan of an attack on the birds by the mice.

Many other golden oldies are in process of being reissued. We need to be glad for publishers who want to prolong the life of a good book by producing a new edition!

It’s sometimes like wandering into unknown territory if you’ve had favorite books in your own childhood and want to find those same books for your own children. A favorite old book goes out of print, and a generation or so later a publisher decides to re-issue this book—with results that are sometimes wonderful and sometimes so disappointing it makes a person want to cry. I’ve written about this before but the reaction of bookstore owner Terri Schmitz (The Children’s Book Shop, Brookline, Massachusetts) to what Houghton did to Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel (Virginia Lee Burton,1939) is worth noting because she is right on target when she writes the following in Horn Book Magazine, Nov-Dec. 2007:

“Whose idea was it to take one of the most beloved children’s books of all time, butcher the text and leave out a number of pictures? Poor Mike and Mary Anne. They’re no longer given credit for cutting through the mountains to clear the way for railroads, or smoothing the ground for airport runways. The crucial plot elements that they work faster and better when they have an audience is barely mentioned. And that most dastardly of villains, Selectman Henry B. Swap, never smiles in ‘a rather mean way’ as he plots to back out of paying Mike and Mary Anne for their work digging the cellar for the new town hall.…Where is the unbearable tension as the day wears on and the sun moves inexorably across the sky? What about the drama as Mike and Mary Anne cut each corner of the cellar hole? And why is the heroism of the little boy who rallies the townspeople to cheer on the man and his machine not celebrated? There is no reason to sigh in satisfaction when Mike and Mary Anne triumph in the end, because we haven’t been given the chance to worry that they might actually fail.”

Well, that certainly tells you about Schmitz’ disappointment with this reissue in no uncertain terms. She wonders what “evil genius” prompts publishers to produce board book versions out of popular picture books that should not be board books. Why? Because they eviscerate the original text and illustrations to fit the board book layout. In short, they take the heart out of a book. My question is why make a board book out of book aimed at ages 3-5 or 4-8? Board books are best when written as board books for very little children.

Schmitz makes a critical point when she complains that her strongest objection is that people who purchase this new version will never know what they’re missing, and won’t bother to read the original. And that is a crying shame. Other people won’t recognize the difference, see the title and exclaim, “O, this is a wonderful book!” Then they buy it and think they have the book they remember.

Book fans feel strongly about the sanctity of books—the text and often the original art. An internet check often reveals outraged fans venting their disappointment at edited plots and changes in illustrations because they consider the new edition a travesty. No matter how you feel about this issue, think kindly of such fans if you have not read the original. (However, in the case of Mike Mulligan, all the internet reviews I could find are rave comments about the original book, not the board book.)

Personally I feel a great sympathy for parents and readers who object, for I know that same sense of betrayal when I see someone has tampered with my favorite book. You may not be such a ‘purist,’ but do consider how foolish it is to throw away the past without good reason. Dollars are not good reasons.

Fortunately, wise editors who “mine the backlist” are putting some favorites of past years back in print, without any gimmicks. If you have never read the original or are not a purist, it may not matter to you anyway, but hardly anything tears at the “reading-heart” quite like finding a favorite book reprinted with some of the most delicious “memories” taken out.

Thankfully the reissue of Ruth Krauss’ The Backward Day (1950) is as charming as ever. In this story a little boy wakes up one morning and says to himself, ‘Today is backward day.’ He puts his clothes on in backward order and ends with socks on top of his shoes. Then he walks backward down the stairs, says goodnight to his family. The situation is silly, and illustrator Marc Simont makes the most of it with his bold colors, showing other family members going along with the idea. Backward Day is undone by walking backwards up the steps, climbing in bed, and starting the whole day over, announcing “Backward Day is Done!” Be glad that a new generation will enjoy the ridiculous elements of the story, told in the straight forward simplicity that marks all of Ruth Krauss’ wonderful children’s books.

Tico and the Golden Wings (1964) by Leo Lionni has been reissued in a more appealing format than the original. It’s the story of Tico being granted wings of pure gold by the “wishingbird,” only to have his friends turn against him, accusing him of thinking he is better than they are with his golden wings. Tico responds by giving golden feathers away, and each time he does this a black feather takes its place until he has turned all black again. The friends say, “Now you are like us!” but Tico knows this isn’t true. “We are all different. Each for his own memories, and his own invisible golden dreams.” It’s good to see Tico’s wings printed appropriately done in metallic gold in the new edition.

Don Freeman’s Quiet! There’s a Canary in the Library (1969) was republished almost two years ago. It’s the story of a little girl named Cary who loves to go to the library, and suggests what she would do if she were the librarian. “I would have a special day when only animals and birds would be allowed to come in and browse.” The book shows a parade of animals coming in the reading room where the trouble begins. A canary with a piercing voice comes to the rescue, resolving the bedlam in a delightful way. Freeman contrast drawings of the actual library with crayoned drawings from Cary’s imagination.

Sometimes the text gets changed when a book is reissued. Here’s an example.

In the original opening of Marshmallow by Clare Turlay Newberry (1942) the story begins: “Oliver was a cat of middle-age, gray with tabby markings. He was a bachelor without wife or kittens, and lived in an apartment in Manhattan.” The new edition reads “Oliver was a gray cat with tabby markings who lived in an apartment.” The heart of the story remains the same, but as you read it feels like someone has taken the spice out of it. This book still has the capacity to captivate children, even though it won’t help develop their vocabulary. The basic story line remains and the same drawings of cat, whose daily life is thrown into disarray at the arrival of a baby rabbit, are as winsome as ever.

There’s more…much more. Several of Roger Duvoisin’s books about Petunia have been reissued. I was glad to see a new edition of Veronica on Petunia’s Farm (1962). Syd Hoff’s I Can Read Books always give children a sense of pride as emergent readers. His books tell interesting stories with a minimum of words—like The Littlest Leaguer which begins: “Of all the players in the little league, Harold was the littlest” and then goes on to tell how bespectacled Harold saves the big game of the season. In addition, several out-of-print editions of Ingri and Edgar Parin d’Aulaire books are back in print.

It seems to me that for every reissue that is a winner there seems to be a “loser” that is hastily thrown together and seems a mistake. Discretion is advised. Look for original editions at book sales. Above all, publishers, don’t tamper with the text!