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On Thursday (April 23, 2015), Vince Shilling, writing at Indian Country Today, broke a news story that was quickly picked up by social media sites (like Gawker) and then news media, too (like CNN, and in the UK, the Guardian).

Shilling's story is about Native actors walking off the set of Adam Sandler's new movie, The Ridiculous Six, because of the ways the script denigrates Native women and mocks Native culture via the names created for Native characters and in the dialogue: Never Wears Bra (in an earlier version of the script, her name was Sits on Face), Strawberry Tits, Stiff In Pants.

People are outraged. I am, too.

Though not as crude as the ones in the script, I've seen that same sort of thing in children's books. Here's some examples:

In Russell Hoban's Soonchild, a couple is expecting their first child. The man's name is "Sixteen Face John" because he has sixteen different faces, all with their own names. They are described in the first chapter. His first face is his (p. 3):

Hi face, the one he said hello with. Face Two was What? Face Three was Really? Face Four was Well, Well. Face Five was Go On! Face Six was You Don't Mean It. Face Seven was You Mean it? Face Eight was That'll Be The Day. Face Nine was What Day Will That Be? Face Ten was It Can't Be That Bad. Face Eleven was Can It Be That Bad? Face Twelve was I Don't Believe It. Face Thirteen was I Believe It. Face Fourteen was This Is Serious. Face Fifteen was What I'm Seeing Is What It Is. Face Sixteen was What It's Seeing Is What I Am.

He's a shaman from a long line of shamans (p. 6):

His mother was Stay With It and his father was Go Anywhere. His mother's mother was Never Give Up and her father was Try Anything. His father's mother was Do It Now and his father's father was Whatever Works. His mother's grandmother was Where Is It? and his father's grandmother was Don't Miss Anything. His mother's grandfather was Everything Matters and his father's grandfather was Go All The Way. 

And... his wife's name is No Problem. Her mother's name is Take It Easy. Her friend is Way To Go. Soonchild was published in 2012 by Candlewick Press.

In Me Oh Maya, Jon Scieszka makes fun of Mayan names. His much-loved Time Warp Trio travels to the midst of a Mayan ball court where an "evil high priest" named Kakapupahed stands over them. They try not to laugh aloud at his name, which they hear as Cacapoopoohead. Me Oh Maya was published in 2003 by Viking.

None of this is new to children's literature. Some of you may recall titles from your childhood like Indian Two Feet and Little Indian and Little Runner of the Longhouse.  

I find these attempts to come up with Native names troubling and problematic in so many ways. Equally troubling are the ways they are described. Hoban's book, for example, got starred reviews from Publisher's Weekly who noted his use of "slapstick" in tackling "the big questions" about life. Booklist, meanwhile, called it profound and offhandedly glib.

Sandler has, thus far, issued no response to Native people regarding his script and reaction to it. The film Sandler is making is slated to air on Netflix. A spokesperson for Netflix did reply (as reported by Vulture) by saying:

"The movie has ridiculous in the title for a reason: because it is ridiculous. It is a broad satire of Western movies and the stereotypes they popularized, featuring a diverse cast that is not only part of — but in on — the joke."

In other words, they're telling the world that Native people are in on the joke. Rather than listen to Native voices, they defend what they're doing.


I contend that children's books are part of the problem. Things given to young people matter. Giving them books that poke fun of Native names pave the way for the creation and defense of what we see in Sandler's movie.

I'll be back with an update if Sandler or Netflix issue any statements, but carry this with you as you select--or weed--books in your library: Names matter. Nobody's names ought to be fodder for satire or humor, whether it is by Adam Sandler or Jon Sciezka.

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Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas

By Russell Hoban; pictures by Lillian Hoban

 

Maybe the only way you may remember this classic Christmas tale of animals that reflect the giving spirit of O’Henry’s short story, “The Gift of the Magi”, is through Jim Henson’s Muppet version. It too captured in word and song the husband/wife team of Russell and Lillian Hoban and their story of these endearing wintry animal inhabitants of Frogtown Hollow struggling to make ends meet before Christmas.

And for the fatherless Emmet and his mother who takes in wash that is soaped and cleaned in a wash tub, these are hard times indeed. Yet there is a sturdy hardiness and cheer about these animal folk who could teach us a thing or two about resilience in the face of deprivation.

If this picture book sounds like a downer, it’s anything BUT!! Emmet uncomplainingly rows in his little rowboat, in hat and scarf tied tight, up and down the river gathering laundry for his mother to wash. He hauls water, chops firewood, and goes out with his dad’s tool chest determined to find the odd job to help out at home. Emmet is the soul of tenacity when he hears that The Merchants’ Association is putting on a talent show with a $50 prize!

Gathering pals Wendell Coon, Harvey Muskrat and Charlie Beaver who individually can play a kazoo, blow on a jug and strum a cigar-box banjo, he’s full of hope. What’s missing is a WASH TUB bass! Guess who has the wash tub that Emmet borrows and puts a HOLE in for a chance to win the prize and gift mom with the piano he dreams of giving her? And mom has to sell Emmet’s tool box to give him..well, you get the picture. Mom is determined to give her Emmet the gleaming guitar with mother-of-pearl inlays he longs for in the store window.

Impossible? Success in life often involves sacrifice the Hoban’s tale tells us and our dreams may come true in very unexpected ways. The important thing this rich story imparts is the ageless truth that love, friendship and community are the real Christmas gifts. They are the glue that binds us together AND sustains us when the times and our lives become difficult. And never giving up on hope and the tenacity that fuels our dreams that make life bearable is another. I’d say if you can get that message across AND entertain in a picture book that lasts, it’s a classic!

Please share this classic picture book and its comfy message with your young ones this Christmas. We, and they, need to hear it again and again and again!!

Here’s the complete version of The Muppet 1977 made for TV movie.

In the words of Emmet’s mom, “Emmet, that’s about the nicest present anybody ever TRIED to give me.”

 

 

Watch Emmet Here! //www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeG499fHctw

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The Mouse and His Child by Russell Hoban is written in the best tradition of children’s stories about toys that are alive. But goodness, this is not a sweet story of stuffed rabbits or bears or nutcrackers.

The story begins as so many do. It is Christmas time and the store is decorated and lit up. The mouse and his child are wind-up toys. When wound up, the mouse, who is holding the hands of the child, walks in circles lifting the child up and down in play. They are on display before a gorgeous doll’s house with other toys and wind-ups. They get bought and go to a loving home and are cared for until an accident smashes them and they end up in the dump.

The dump is run by Manny Rat who has a wind-up work gang he sends out every night to scavenge for him. The mouse and is child are repaired and sent out with one of Manny Rat’s underlings to rob a bank. Along the way we meet Frog, a fraud fortune-teller who, for once, is possessed by something and tells a real fortune for the mouse and his child:

Low in the dark of summer, high in the winter light; a painful spring, a shattering fall, a scattering regathered. The enemy you flee at the beginning awaits you at the end.

So begins the long and perilous journey of the mouse and his child. They meet danger, they make friends, they see death and violence rather frequently, and through it all they are pursued by Manny Rat who wants to smash them for having the temerity to escape.

The mouse and his child are not on the run, however, they are on a quest. After witnessing a large battle and slaughter over territory between rival shrew factions, the mouse and his child realize what they are missing is territory of their own, a place they belong, a place worth fighting for. Their quest is to find their territory and to gather together their little wind-up family from the store — the elephant the child wants to be his mother, and the seal he wants to be his sister. They eventually succeed. In the process they create a bigger family and circle of friends than they had imagined. Through them, the excellent villain Manny Rat is redeemed. And, as if this weren’t enough, they receive the ultimate reward of self-winding.

Because the mouse and his child cannot wind themselves, this is a story about being used, long-suffering patience, faith, hope, creative thinking, never giving up, and getting by with a little help from your friends.

My favorite part of the story is when they find themselves at the bottom of a pond being lectured on deep thinking by C. Serpentina, a snapping turtle. They are left to contemplate what comes after the last visible dog on the Bonzo dog food label. The label shows a dog holding a platter of Bonzo dog food with a dog holding a platter of Bonzo dog food and on and on until they become too small to see. The child is the one facing the can and so it is his task to figure out the answer. They are underwater a very long time when the child finally realizes that what comes after the last visible dog is nothing. And what is on the other side of nothing? Why we are! Or rather “us” as in the mouse and his child. Which leads the child to the conclusion that nobody can get them off the bottom of the pond but themselves. It is a really wonderful part of the story about thinking and developing your argument and then coming eventually to a creative solution.

I borrowed two different editions of the book. One has the original illustrations by Lillian Hoban, Russell Hoban’s wife. The other is a more recent printing with illustrations by David Small. Small’s pictures are numerous and lovely black-and-white watercolor drawings. I like them quite a lot. However, I found the small, less numerous black-and-white pen and ink drawings by Lillian Hoban to fit the story a bit better. Thery are more stark and somehow less safe and at times more threatening than Small’s. Because, in spite of the happy ending, this is not safe and easy story. I was quite surprised by the violence and cruelty but I appreciate that Hoban didn’t soften it up. If I had read this as a kid I would have been terrified by Manny Rat and properly devastated by the nonchalant death of the rabbit during the Caws of Art riot.

The Mouse and His Child is a children’s book, but it isn’t. How many books for kids have an epigraph by W.H. Auden?

The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way of is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.

This is the first stanza of a poem by Auden called Leap Before You Look. Epigraphs tell you a lot about a story but the curious thing is you don’t know what they are saying until you get to the end. Indeed, throughout the sense of danger does not disappear. They way is both short and steep. And that last line, you can look all you want but eventually you will have to take that leap, just as the mouse and his child and several other characters in the book had to do. Auden’s poem is about taking chances, not accepting the status quo, living dangerously. And that too, is what The Mouse and His Child tells us to do.

Filed under: Books, Kid's/YA, Reviews Tagged: Russell Hoban

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Now this is really neat.  There’s a series called BOOKD through THINKR (apparently E’s are considered gauche these days) that will take a topic and really go into it with a panel of experts.  In this particular case the question is whether or not you should re-read Charlotte’s Web.  Author Bruce Coville and teacher/blogger/author Monica Edinger (amongst others) give their two cents.  Really nicely edited and shot, don’t you think?

In other news, I had no idea that the Royal Shakespeare Company had created a staged adaptation of The Mouse and His Child by Russell Hoban.  Hoban died just last year in 2012.  I feel a bit miffed that he didn’t get to see this.  Maybe he got a sneaky peak in some way.  At any rate, it look fantastic (love the ending on the second video).  I just wonder how they pulled off The Caws of Art.  I’ve two videos here for the same production.  Love them both for very different reasons.

Thanks to Stefan for the links!

Sometimes I like to step into an alternate universe where I grew up in the USSR and watched television like this version of The Hobbit.  Instead I grew up on the old Rankin & Bass version.  Which was better?  Um . . .

Thanks to Educating Alice for the link!

And kudos to The New York Times for this lovely Christoph Neimann illustrated video of an interview Sendak conducted with NPR.

 

When I die, let’s do that.  That would be fun.  Make a note of it.

And finally, for the off-topic part, gold gold goldy gold.  I don’t even know if you could label it “Off-Topic” since it involves a child reading.  Or rather, a three-year-old child “reading”.  I know it’s three minutes but I seriously sat down and watched the whole thing because it’s a fascinating case study in what words kids pick up on when they hear stories.  The “but then” particularly amuses.

Many thanks to Stephany Aulenback for sharing that.

 

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Ummm... Russell Hoban, author of some terrific picture books, wrote this on page 6 of Soonchild: 

John came from a long line of shamans. His mother was Stay With It and his father was Go Anywhere. His mother's mother was Never Give Up and her father was Try Anything. His father's mother was Do It Now and his father's father was Whatever Works. His mother's grandmother was Where Is It? and his father's grandmother was Don't Miss Anything. His mother's grandmother was Everything Matters and his father's grandfather was Go All The Way. 

John's full name, by the way, is Sixteen-Face John. His wife's name is No Problem.

Want some more excerpts from this novel based on Inuit stories? Did you say 'hell no'?! That's what I'm saying.

Calling it playful, challenging, profound, and glib, the reviewer at Booklist gave it a starred review and categorizes it as appropriate for grades 9-12.

The reviewer at VOYA says the Native names (really, Voya? You think those are "Native" names?!) give the story "unexpected depth" and recommends it for readers who are 11 to 14.

The Kirkus reviewer says it is "based on paternalistic and romanticized notions about Native peoples." Quoting from the book, the Kirkus reviewer demonstrates that Hoban is addressing non-Inuit readers:

"Maybe…there isn't any north where you are. Maybe it's warm….There aren't any Inuit or dogsleds, nothing like that."

Some (obviously) think Hoban is clever. I think he is ignorant and insensitive, and I wouldn't recommend his book for anyone at all!

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I am of the school that likes to read while eating. (Is that even a "school"? And of what — reading?) No, needs to read while eating. I know this is both very bad manners and apparently bad for the waistline, too: I have read that the dieter should eat without distraction, so as to [...]

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By Nicki Richesin, The Children’s Book Review
Published: June 8, 2012

We’re very pleased to share Caroline Grant’s Five Family Favorites with you. We’ve been reading her delightful food stories and recipes on her blog Learning to Eat for years. And we’re eagerly awaiting the forthcoming book based on it, The Cassoulet Saved Our Marriage: True Tales of Food, Family, and How We Learn to Eat. Caroline is editor-in- chief of Literary Mama, a fantastic magazine and resource for mothers to return to for inspiration. She’s also the editor of another fascinating anthology Mama, PhD. Thanks to Caroline and her family for sharing their favorite books with us. They have made us hungry for more! 

In the Night Kitchen

By Maurice Sendak

In the Night Kitchen is the book my sons and I comforted ourselves with when we heard the sad news of Maurice Sendak’s death last month. This quirky story, frequently banned because Mickey slips out of his pajamas and frolics naked in his dreams, is a terrific fantasy of independence and cake baking. We love the bold illustrations and the comic book look of the book, the inventiveness of buildings topped with egg beaters and juicers, and the subway train that looks like a loaf of bread, but most of all, we love that Mickey can stretch bread dough into an airplane and fly wherever he wants until, having fetched the baker’s milk, he slides gently back home and safely into bed.

Ages 3-6 | Publisher: HarperCollins | 1970 | Caldecott Honor, 1971

Pancakes, Pancakes!

By Eric Carle

Everyone knows Eric Carle’s wonderful The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but our very favorite Eric Carle book is Pancakes, Pancakes!, in which a boy named Jack asks his mother for pancakes. “I am busy and you will have to help me,” his mother says, a line that sets Jack off on a gentle adventure. One by one, his mother names the ingredients needed and Jack gathers them: he cuts and threshes wheat; grinds the wheat into flour; milks the cow and churns the milk into butter; feeds the hen so she’ll lay an egg; cuts wood for the fire; and finally, steps down into their cool cellar for some jam. I love that Jack’s mother doesn’t drop everything to cook for h

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#67 Bedtime for Frances by Russell Hoban, illustrated by Garth Williams (1960)
28 points

It doesn’t get better than this. Great pictures, good story, good “moral” (but not preachy). – Laurie Zaepfel

For every parent who has tried to get a child to sleep, and for every child who has tried to go to sleep. – DaNae Leu

Though some may forget, this turns out to be the very first Frances book Hoban and Williams collaborated on.  I’m also a little ashamed to say that I’ve never read it.  How have I missed it all these years?  No idea but expect me to make good soon.

The original description from Kirkus reads: “Frances is a lively, imaginative and appealing small badger. And bedtime for her is just as unappealing as it would be for any little girl. Tucked into her snug bed, with her toy companions, the wideawake Frances conjures up successive dangers, all of which are scotched by her matter-of-fact parents. Finally, of course, Frances succumbs to the sandman.”

If we dip once more into Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom (who was the editor of this particular book) we learn one or two interesting tidbits.  For example, the original working title of this book was Whose Afraid? Blech!  Good change for the better that.  The next thing we learn is that this was hardly an easy book to whittle into shape.  In her letter to Russell Hoban, Ms. Nordstom writes, “I do think it is better but I’m afraid it is going to need a lot more work, Russ.  You simply didn’t take any time to set the stage, get any characters, think about the situation . . . I know you can do it better but for heaven’s sake take a little time and care . . . I will say this: that I think your first ‘chapter’ can’t be called ‘The Tiger,’ and you can’t just say in two lines that this Frances was in bed and she couldn’t sleep and then bang go right into the act.”  It goes on and for authors who have dealt with picture book notes it’s somewhat satisfying to hear.  Most interesting of all is the moment she says, “I think it is sort of a good idea not to make her a human little girl but why a vole?  I sort of wish any other creature but a vole which looks like a mouse.  I think it is terribly difficult to draw ATTRACTIVE mice and I am speaking as the editor who tried eight artists for Stuart Little before Garth Williams finally came through for gold old Harper.”  No surprise that when he switched Frances into her current badger form, Ms. Nordstrom lost no time hiring Williams once again.  If the man could do cute mice just imagine what he could do with badgers!

Kirkus gave it a star also saying (somewhat oddly), “Garth Williams, popular illustrator, has a flair for conveying human qualities while still sustaining the animal nature of his characters, and Russell Hoban’s text is gently comical-while wholly recognizable in mood and situation. Steiff toys in Europe include badgers along with Teddy and kaola bears, and perhaps this will create a demand for them here. In any case, here’s a book that will be surely popular.”

And Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books called it, “An enchanting picture book with winsome illustrations and a text in which there is humor and a real sympathy for the maneuvering of the reluctantly retiring young.”

• You’ve just gotta love this play-by-play reading of the book.
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Why is a raven like a writing desk?*   More on topic, how is a bad query sent to an editor like a personal ad?  Last April The Rejectionist sought to answer this very question in Love is Like a Bottle of Query and I couldn’t help but figure that it would make a superb Valentine’s Day link for you all.

That seems insufficient fodder for today’s post, though.  So just for the heckuvit, here is a list of my favorite romantic picture books.  Howsoever you wish to interpret them.

The Duchess of Whimsy by Randall de Seve, illustrated by Peter de Seve – Not only was it written by a husband and wife team (an inherently romantic proposition) but it also features one of my favorite love stories.  You have a Duchess who is only interested in whimsical things and the practical fellow who loves her.  I’m a fan.  Plus it’s a real treat to the old eyeballs.

The Marzipan Pig by Russell Hoban – The saddest Valentine’s Day book on this list and long out of print.  Nevertheless I love that book, and I love the little film that was made of it long long ago.  You can catch a section of it here if you like:

The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear, illustrated by Stephane Jorisch – I understand that there are as many different picture book versions of this book as there are drops of water in the sea.  Everyone from Hilary Knight to James Marshall has adapted this poem at some point (probably because it’s the rare standalone poem that converts to the picture book format so easily).  My personal favorite amongst these versions, however, is Jorisch’s.  This isn’t just a story about two different species getting together.  No, in Jorisch’s world it’s two different lifestyles.  The owl is all buttoned up business suit and the cat this Greenwich Village, thick soled boot-wearing artist.  Yet impossibly they get together and wed.  How awesome is that?!

Henry in Love by Peter McCarty – A love story appropriate for the schoolyard set.  More of a crush really.  In this sweet tale a little cat has a crush on a rabbit in his class.  They reach a mutual understanding all thanks to a bright blue muffin.  Aside from making me hungry for muffins (particularly those of irregular colors) McCarty employs a really gorgeous pen to the illustrations in this book.  Little wonder it appeared on the 5 Comments on Happy Valentine’s Day!!, last added: 2/15/2011