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He Came with the Couch by David Slonim (Illustrator); Chronicle, 2005

Ages 4-8

We all want to be accepted, don't we? In this zany tale, Sophie's family has found the perfect couch, but it comes with something extra- a spike-haired, three-toed, yellow-nosed, blue creature. Getting rid of that extra something is impossible. Turns out, the creature suffers from upholsterosis, so on doctor's orders, Sophie's family gets him out more by taking the sofa and the newcomer on a cross-country journey. In the end, the creature helps Sophie and her family in a heart-warming way.

Visit David Slonim's website.

I knew when I signed up for Becky's Heart of a Child challenge, this book had to be on my list. I read 10 Kids, No Pets and it's sequel 11 Kids, One Summer, probably about 100 times over the course of my childhood and I was all too happy to have a reason to pick the book up again. It's a very simply story, but one that has always held my attention, not to mention made me wish I had a lot more siblings!

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1971. The First Four Years.

The stars hung luminous and low over the prairie.

The First Four Years was published several decades after the death of Laura Ingalls Wilder. It was published after the death of Laura and Almanzo's daughter, Rose Wilder Lane. It is based on three hand-written notebooks. The story is believed to have been written in the mid to late forties. It is also believed to have been shelved by Laura Ingalls Wilder after the death of Almanzo. She never went back to work on it again. She never polished it up. She never sent it to the publishers. It is what it is, a first draft.

It has a completely different feel than the other Little House books. It doesn't have chapters, for one thing. But more than that there is an emotional undertone of sadness and regret that makes it pointedly different than its predecessors. It is just very melancholy. Yes, it captures all the horrible things that happened next. Yes, it's probably accurate enough to assume that most if not all farmers experienced this many brutal hardships. The other Little House books often dealt with hard issues as well. But I suppose they felt more balanced. I think she injected enough hope and light to lift them up.

Personally, I'd rather have the "happily ever after" ending of These Happy Golden Years than the brutal hardships of The First Four Years. Not that I'm promoting the unrealistic fairy-tale ending where marriage is problem-free. But to read of all the hardships with the farm, the land, the money problems, the debt, the worries, the health problems, the weather/environment problems, etc. It's just so hard, so brutal, so depressing.

134 pages.

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1941. Little Town on the Prairie.

I'm not sure how other fans feel. I've never sat down to have deep philosophical discussions on which books from the series are their personal favorites and bests. But Little Town on the Prairie gets my pick for being an unsung hero. I always, always forget about it when naming my favorites. It gets overshadowed by The Long Winter and These Happy Golden Years. But I would imagine that each and every time I sit down to actually read it, I find myself delighted and surprised.

The book opens almost where Long Winter left off. The Ingalls family have moved back to their homestead. They are living in their claim shanty. They are busy, busy, busy. It seems each book finds them always hard at work, always diligent, always thinking ahead and planning. What is on their minds in this book is getting enough money saved to send Mary to college. Her school for the blind. At the heart of this is Laura's determination to earn money to contribute to the family's savings. At first this is through her work in town helping the seamstress. But it is also in her quiet, steady determination to study hard so that she can earn her teacher's certificate when she is sixteen.

What is so delightful about Little Town on the Prairie is the quiet, peaceful winter spent in town. Here we see Laura attending school on a regular basis. Here we see her making friends. Here we see a return of Nellie Oleson. No longer the "city girl" or the "town girl." Nellie is now the shabbier, poorer neighbor. She's as mean as ever. Or so Laura would have us belief. A nice Nelly? Unthinkable! But above all, Little Town on the Prairie is delightful because of Almanzo Wilder.

"Name Cards" is one of my favorite chapters. It starts out with Nellie being horrid, and ends with a rather subtly romantic first ride for Laura behind Almanzo's oh-so-admired horses. (Laura has been eying those horses for quite a while now.) Almanzo sees her hurrying along to school--worried she might be late--and so he offers to give her a ride. She didn't know he knew she existed. Anyway, pure delight.

Of equal delight is "Schooltime Begins Again" where Almanzo Wilder asks Laura Ingalls if he can walk her home after the revival. The revival lasts all week, and each night he is there by her side waiting to ask to see her home. Around this time, though not quite in this chapter, he asks if she would like to go for sleigh rides in January when his new cutter is finished.

Small beginnings that won't come to bloom until These Happy Golden Years. But beginnings that make you smile and are satisfying in their own way.

First sentence: One evening at supper, Pa asked, "How would you like to work in town, Laura?" Laura could not say a word. Neither could any of the others.

Pages: 307

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1940. The Long Winter.

The mowing machine's whirring sounded cheerfully from the old buffalo wallow south of the claim shanty, where bluestem grass stood thick and tall and Pa was cutting it for hay.

This first chapter is called "Make Hay While the Sun Shines" and if it's found within a book called THE LONG WINTER, the reader knows what to expect even if the characters don't. The book opens with Ma and Pa and family getting ready for harvest and winter. Laura is helping out Pa. Mary and Carrie are helping out Ma. Laura is especially pleased that she's old enough (around 14 now) to help Pa and do outdoor chores.

The Ingalls family is living in their claim shanty. This would be the first fall/winter they've been there. And they know it will be tough, but when the first blizzard comes in October, they know that it wouldn't only be tough to survive but impossible to survive if they were to try to stay on their homestead. Fortunately, Pa owns property in town. A place where they can be nice and warm and cozy for the winter. Or so they think.

What no one could know is just how hard, how long, how tough this winter was going to be. Some folks are prepared--the Wilder boys for instance--but most are not. Most are relying on the train making regular stops in town. The trains are essential for stocking the stores of supplies. But when almost every day brings a blizzard--with clear days coming only one at a time and never on a predictable schedule--it soon becomes clear that the trains will not be saving the day. Not til spring. The town's survival, the Ingalls' family survival, is a big if at this point.

Cold. Hunger. Starvation. No supplies. What's not to love?

The Long Winter has always been one of my favorites of the Little House series. I'll admit it tends to make you cold and hungry. But that's not a bad thing, right? I didn't think so. Only two books can trick my mind and body--okay maybe three--into thinking it's cold and hungry. One, of course, is The Long Winter. The other two are by Susan Beth Pfeffer. I think one of the reasons I love The Long Winter is that it introduces Almanzo Wilder onto the scene. True, there was Farmer Boy if you didn't skip it like I have done. But this Almanzo is a man--a young man it's true--19 years of age. And he's acting "manly" alright when it's time to save the day. I love every scene Almanzo is in. Laura first meets him when she's lost and trying to find her Pa in the slough of hay. Here is the description: "His blue eyes twinkled down at her as if he had known her a long time." Anyway, I love this book.

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1937. On the Banks of Plum Creek.

The dim wagon track went no farther on the prairie, and Pa stopped the horses. When the wagon wheels stopped turning, Jack dropped down in the shade between them. His belly sank on the grass and his front legs stretched out. His nose fitted in the furry hollow. All of him rested, except his ears.

On The Bank of Plum Creek opens when the Ingalls family arrives at their new home. They have bought a place, and their first new "home" is a dugout. They are buying it from a Norwegian man, Mr. Hanson, who is moving further west I presume. This is just temporary. Charles (or "Pa" as he's referred to so often it's hard not to join in) has promised to build them a real house, a real home just as soon as he can. The book opens with promises and hopes and dreams. But most of the book will see those hopes and dreams delayed. What Pa needs--what they all need--are good crops, good wheat crops. What Pa gets is grasshoppers. The Ingalls family does struggle a bit in On The Banks of Plum Creek. But they do settle in and get comfortable. Mary and Laura, for instance, start school. It is the first time for them to ever attend school. And they do meet up with some town folks like Nellie Oleson.

Overall, this is a more than enjoyable read. Some of my favorite chapters are "Nellie Oleson," "Town Party," "Country Party," "Going to Church," and "Surprise."

It is 339 pages.

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1935. Little House On the Prairie.

A long time ago, when all the grandfathers and grandmothers of today were little boys and little girls or very small babies, or perhaps not even born, Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura and Baby Carrie left their little house in the Big Woods of Wisconsin. They drove away and left it lonely and empty in the clearing among the big trees, and they never saw that little house again. They were going to the Indian country.

Thus begins Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It was written in 1935. (Farmer Boy, a book about her husband's childhood was published in 1933. I do plan on reading and reviewing Farmer Boy. I just have a little different reading order I follow.) It's funny--okay, not really ha ha funny--but this is one of those opening paragraphs that I had practically memorized from childhood. It's not that I think it is particularly "awesome" or anything. But something about it struck me as a child. Of course, this opening like the opening to Little House in the Big Woods loses its "trueness" with the flow of time.

By 1935, all of my grandparents had been born--two were even teens or preteens by that point--but this story would have been targeted for them. It was this generation that would have been the first readers. This introduction would have been about getting them to think about their grandparents. It's mind-boggling as a child to think about your grandparents having grandparents. I think age, time, history is so complex that it's hard to wrap your mind around as a child. To think that your grandparents were ever anything but "old" to think of them as being children, of being good and naughty, of going to school, of getting in trouble, of having fears, of having friends and playmates, etc.

Perhaps Little House is one of the reasons I've always loved stories and storytelling. Perhaps not. Perhaps I come from a family of storytellers. My mom can tell stories--and they're such great stories--about her childhood, about her parents, about her grandparents, about her cousins, and most especially about her naughty siblings. To hear my mom talk about her grandparents, it's a wonderful thing. To hear my great-aunt and my grandma talk about their childhoods, their parents, their grandparents, is a wonderful thing. I love family history. I love family stories.

Maybe I'm the only child that read this opening and thought of how deep and mind-boggling it was to trace the generations back and learn and explore and connect. Maybe not.

This book--like Little House in the Big Woods--is so poignant to me. Maybe I'm not using the right word. What I mean is that each chapter, each event, is so much a part of my memory, so familiar, so resonating that it remains sharp and clear even after a dozen years since the last reading. I think the Garth Williams illustrations are part of the reason why. The book is like a collection of snapshots not only of Laura's story but of my own childhood. The Little House books are part of my reading DNA.

The story, very briefly, is about Laura and her family as they travel by covered wagon into new territory. Once they arrive, they try to make this land their new home. There is the house to build, the barn to build, the well to dig, the neighbors to meet, the fields to explore, etc.

The book isn't without faults. I mentioned this very briefly with Little House in the Big Woods. The book has through the past decade or so been challenged in some districts. I'm not sure of the specifics of whether it was school libraries, class curriculum, or public libraries. But it has been challenged enough that it is part of a long list of books that some (perhaps erroneously) refer to as banned books. [In my opinion, a book isn't banned if it is still available to sell. A "banned" book may not appear in one town's library, but if it's still widely available in most libraries across the nation. Still available to buy in stores and online. It's not really "banned."]

As I said, I'm not too sure on the specifics. But if I had to take a guess, I would say that while talk may come and go on this one it's still widely available in school and public libraries. And that it hasn't really ever been out of print as far as I can tell and isn't really in any danger of disappearing. HarperCollins (perhaps foolishly) has just released new editions in 2007. I say foolishly because they have been stripped of the illustrations by Garth Williams. So the real danger is if this trend continues and the illustrations become hard-to-find.

The issue with Little House on the Prairie is that because it is about the conflict between "white settlers" and "Indians" it is more than a little offensive. Ma Ingalls fears that the Indians would massacre them and their neighbors. Her repeated notions (and it's at least a dozen times) that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. It's easy to see how this one might be in danger of being purged "for the good of children everywhere" by the politically correct camp. But Ma's views aren't the only views presented. Laura is more curious than scared. Pa is more cautious and friendly than gung-ho to make an enemy. Pa more often than not voices logic and reason and peace and goodwill to Ma's rants. Pa may be accused of wanting the Indian's land so he could have a nice place to live and raise his family. But Pa wasn't wanting the Indians to be killed.

A few random points.

1) Does Little House on the Prairie say things that out of context could be taken offensively? Yes.
2) However, it is more than important it is essential to always use context when reading.
3) Does Laura Ingalls Wilder authentically represent the majority opinion of the mid-to-late nineteenth century? Yes. Most white settlers felt it was their "right" to settle wherever they wanted.
4) Does Laura Ingalls Wilder authentically and accurately represent the American Indians or Native Americans? No. Her portrayal of the Indian tribes living in the region are generic. They're stereotypical. They're the white man's phony image of what an "Indian" is and says and does. The details about their lives, their appearance, their customs and traditions, not accurate, not authentic.
5) At the time when Laura Ingalls Wilder was writing the series--the 30s--was this stereotype present and alive? Yes. In books. In movies. In tv shows. And most likely in radio shows. The stereotypical "Indian" had many many many reincarnations. This "stereotype" was prevalent and abundant.

Slightly turning topics

1. It seems we have several different options. We can purge the past and pretend that the current notions, ideas, concepts, values have always been the ONLY ones we've ever had. We can try to erase our history completely and pretend that as a nation, a country, we've never had a racist thought, a racist act, a racist law. Or we can examine the past critically and discuss it.
2. Discussion is good. Explanations are good. Bouncing ideas back and forth. Learning from the past. Learning about ourselves. Thinking critically. Being challenged to think at all. Being challenged to question history, question the past. It's all good and much preferable than the alternative: being told, being programmed what to think, how to feel, how to act.
3. It is unfair and ridiculous to hold those living in the past to our twenty-first century values. Our ideas of right and wrong, just and unjust aren't static. They evolve, they change over time. To stand in judgment over the past. To pass judgment. To want to rewrite history. It's not really the brightest idea.
4. When evaluating literature--classics whether for adults or children--we should always be evaluating in terms of context--time and place and culture. If it is historical fiction, it is a snapshot of both the events chronicled (when the story takes places) and a snapshot of when it was written (when the story was written and published.)

Is Little House on the Prairie suitable and appropriate for modern readers? I think that is something parents will have to decide for themselves. Would reading a book--could reading a book--make you a racist? I'd say it's debatable. I think your home life--your parents, your education--that would play a larger role in socialization. But I think discussion will become more and more important through the years. I think--to borrow from a song--that you have to be taught to hate. And I personally don't think Laura Ingalls Wilder is trying to teach anyone to hate.

This is in some ways under the topic umbrella of "does a book make you..." For example, does reading a book about a murderer or rapist, make you as a reader want to go out and commit those crimes? Does reading a book about teenage pregnancy, make you as a teen reader want to go out and get pregnant. Does reading a book about teens doing drugs and drinking and partying make teens want to go out and do the same? I think it's a pointless argument. I don't really think books "make" anyone "do" anything.

One more quick point about book challenges and "banning." I think most people tend to label would-be book banners in one way or another. They forget that they come in all shapes, sizes, religions, cultures and ethnicities, and political affiliations. They forget that they are just as likely to be liberal as conservative, atheist as Christian, etc. These kinds of groups aren't one-size-fits-all-crazy. They're always more complex than that.

Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1932. Little House in the Big Woods.

Once upon a time, sixty years ago, a little girl lived in the Big Woods of Wisconsin, in a little gray house made of logs.

Of course it has now been much longer than sixty years. Longer than sixty years since Laura Ingalls Wilder fictionalized her childhood years and began writing her now famous series. Longer than sixty years since Laura Ingalls was a child growing up in what now seems quite an unfamiliar world. Her accounts of her childhood--her observations about family and life and friendship--seem so simple in some ways. In the first chapter alone, the reader learns the joys of smoking venison and playing with a pigs' bladder not to mention the how-to's of making head cheese. Each episode, each observation offers the reader a window into the past. Some things have changed--and changed a lot--other things have remained the same. One of the things that resonates in this book--in this series is the love and joy of family life. Pa. Ma. Mary. Laura. Carrie. Each are part of the family. Each are important, valued, loved. The relationship of Laura with her parents and Laura with her sisters and Laura with her beloved dog, Jack, are timeless.

I grew up with these books. I'm sure at least a few of them were read aloud to me. But I'm even more sure that I read them all on my own at least a dozen times. Being able to read these to myself was more than enough motivation to stick with the phonics of the school system. Laura Ingalls Wilder. E.B. White. Beverly Cleary. These were the REASONS why reading was important to learn, to master.

What more can I say about Laura Ingalls Wilder? I wanted to be her growing up. I loved the books. I practically had them memorized. The sequences of events. The illustrations that accompanied each of those events. The memories--the lovely lazy memories of cozying up reading these books--are ones I'll always have. I really can't say much more about such an old friend.

One thing I can say, however, is that you really MUST make a point of listening to these books on audio. Cherry Jones does such a wonderful, fabulous job narrating the books. The books are incredible on their own. And I love them. I do. But it's magical to hear these beloved books come to life on audio. Trust me.

What seems completely sad to me--though I don't think the book is in any real danger of going out of print--is that in some places it is being challenged. There are people wanting schools and libraries to remove it from the shelves because "promotes racial epithets and is fueling the fire of racism." Personally, I don't see it. I will discuss this issue more when I review Little House on the Prairie.

Last night I reread one of my favorite books of all time. A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh. I can't begin to count how many times I've read--either on my own or read aloud--this brilliant book. The characters? Christopher Robin. Winnie ther Pooh. Piglet. Rabbit. Owl. Kanga and Roo. And of course the ever-sullen Eeyore. They're so wonderful. So lovable. So perfect. The language? So beloved. So familiar. So right. I really couldn't imagine a world without Pooh. Pooh captures everything that is so right with the world. The innocence. The charm. The love. The kindness. There's just something so good, so pure about Christopher Robin and his chums.

Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh.
When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, "But I thought he was a boy?"
"So did I," said Christopher Robin.
"Then you can't call him Winnie?"
"I don't."
"But you said--"
"He's Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don't you know what 'ther' means?"
"Ah, yes, now I do," I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get. (1-2)

Christopher Robin and his stuffed bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, love to be told stories. (I think everyone likes to be told stories.) Pooh especially likes to be told stories about himself because as Christopher Robin says, "he's that sort of Bear."

The first story about Winnie-the-Pooh starts off like this, "Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders."

I just love that beginning. Don't you? It's silly; it's fun; it's just right. Once upon a time . . . about last Friday. Genius.

The stories themselves are very interactive. The narrator speaks to the child directly. I really think Pooh is the kind of story that is meant to be read aloud. And read aloud often. It bears much repeating. It only grows better each time it is experienced.

According to the 80th Anniversary edition of the book Winnie the Pooh has been translated into thirty-one different languages! Which makes him perfect for this Wednesday's edition of Travel the World.

I'm hosting this one at the request of another blogger who is unable to host at this time. The rules--if you can call them rules--are my own, however.

Heart of a Child Challenge

How many? Read 3 to 6 books
When? from February 1, 2008 to July 14, 2008
What? Books and authors that you discovered, loved, or adored as a child. How am I defining "child"--I'll be generous. Anything and everything that you read through the age of 18 would qualify.
Why? Because sometimes it's fun to reread books and see if they still hold the same "magic."

To sign up, simply leave a comment on this post.

Further rules:

You DO NOT have to have a list.
You may overlap books with other challenges. I'd actually encourage you to overlap books with other challenges.
You may use audio books for this challenge.
You DO NOT have to have a blog in order to participate.
You will be expected to comment occasionally on your progress. I'll be posting update posts once a month or once every six weeks between February 1rst and July 14th.
Comments are meant to be friendly and chatty. Just be yourself. This is nothing to stress about.
All books must be rereads.
It is your choice entirely if you want to focus on picture books, chapter books, or longer novels. If you read adult books as a teen, then those books would qualify as well.
This challenge is all about YOU discovering how much you've changed, and how much you're still the same.

What will I be reading? Primarily, I hope to read the Ramona books by Beverly Cleary; The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder; The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis; The Anne books by L.M. Montgomery. Christy by Catherine Marshall might prove fun. And Mandy by Julie Edwards. And I would love, love, love to revisit the Sunfire Romance series. And maybe just maybe Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell. I doubt I'll read all of them by July 14th. I KNOW I can't read them all by July 14th. But these books are all books I'd like to read throughout the whole year.

Participants so far:

Sharon G. (NovelChallenge Group)