Collected Miscellany

Laura Miller had a problem.  When she was young she was absolutely captivated and enthralled with the Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis.  Given a copy of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe by a school teacher she dove in an entered a new world.  Things would never be the same.

But eventually she grew older and began to find out things about Lewis and Narnia that changed her relationship with the series: the Christian underpinnings of the story, Lewis’s world view and political opinions, etc.  But as she pursued a career as a literary critic she decided to return to these books and she found there was still much about them that she loved.

The road that had once seemed to lead to free and open country had in reality doubled back to church.  Now I was trying to explain why my damning adolescent assessment of Chronicles wasn’t entirely sufficient, either.  As an adult, I’d discovered that I could follow Lewis pretty far without feeling obliged to return to Christianity, and that the old sensations of freedom, of wilderness in Narnia, remained.

She sets out to make sense of this journey.  The Magician’s Book: A Skeptic’s Adventures in Narnia is her answer in book form.

I guess you would have to put Magician’s Book into the category of creative non-fiction.  Good thing too, because otherwise it would be hard to categorize.  Part memoir, literary criticism, biography, and current events reporting it frequently slides between childhood memories, academic criticism, Freudian analysis, personal opinion, and interviews with other authors.

Sometimes this manages to flow and hold together in a coherent way and at others the transitions are a little rough.  I found the sections dealing with Lewis’s faith and politics were the least convincing – but perhaps that is my bias – but the book as a whole remains an insightful and engaging look at Lewis and Narnia.

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***I mentioned last week that I was thinking of a new series based on books I like to read my kids.  Tonight I was inspired enough to kick the series off.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy reading these books to my kids.***

What to do when your finances don’t allow for endless book buying?  Well, the library of course!  But in the case of books for children I don’t mean that in quite the way you might think.  One of the nicer neighborhoods near where we live has a nice library of course.  But they also have a wonderful children’s book section in their Friends of the Library book sale area.

I particularly enjoy older children’s books (older in terms of  publishing date not age of the children).  And so love hunting through the kids section looking for hidden gems.  That way I can surprise my kids with a new story to read and it only costs me a dollar or two.  I have found quite a few great books this way.

Which brings us to the subject of this post.  I found this great edition of Oscar Wilde’s children’s story The Selfish Giant.  It has wonderful watercolor illustrations by Lisbeth Zwerger (I frequently look for books with nice or unique illustrations as my wife is an artist and loves these books as much as the kids).

I was not familiar with the story prior to bringing it home.  Having read it a few times now, it has moved into my favorites list. It is a wonderfully simple fairy tale about the dangers of cutting your self off from the world.  And it ends with, for me, a moving reminder of the power of the Christian faith.

But no matter what your faith background, or lack thereof, it really is a gem of a story about the soul killing nature of isolation, the magic of  children, the wonders of spring, and the powers of love. The happy tale ends on a deeply sad note but carries with it either the cycle of life or the promise of redemption depending on your perspective. (I will admit holding back tears on occasion.)

The story is widely available online in its entirety (here for example) so if you aren’t familiar with it read it – you will be glad you did.  Of course, to truly enjoy it, IMO, you need the wonderful illustrations offered by this particular edition. The delicate water colors match the tone and feel of the story perfectly in my mind.  We have also read Hans Christian Anderson’s The Swineherd with her illustrations and they are equally well done. She really is an incredible artist.

For our family a book like this is a wonderful edition to the library.  Not just because of the joy it provides as a bed time story, but because it is a both a parable for young and old – and a message we all need to hear – and a work of art.  And sharing that art together makes it all the more special.

Do you have books like this in your family?  Did you read this story when you were younger? I would love to hear your thoughts.

I stumbled upon this interesting little book, Little Mook & Dwarf Longnose (part of the Pocket Paragon Book series), at a library sale.  Given my interest in fairy tales and young adult fiction I thought it would be worth the quick read.  This past weekend I pulled it out and read one afternoon.  It was worth it just for the introduction by one of the translators Thomas S. Hansen.

William Hauff’s life was cut short- from overwork and exhaustion no less – at the age of twenty-five but he still managed to leave a legacy behind.  And among German speaking children his fairy tales are second only to the famous Brothers Grimm.  The two stories in this collection are meant as an introduction to his work.

Booklist does a great job of capturing the slim volume:

This petite double feature celebrates nineteenth-century German fantasist Hauff, an unsung contemporary of the Brothers Grimm. Like others in the publisher’s Pocket Paragon series, the book is a pleasure to hold and behold, featuring rich, glossy stock, decorative embellishments, and beautifully reproduced artwork. Though the story “Little Mook” gets top billing, “Dwarf Longnose” is probably better known due to earlier versions illustrated by both Maurice Sendak and Lizbeth Zwerger. The two stories, though, have much in common, each chronicling the adventures of a small, physically odd character who carves his place in the world by dint of cleverness, good-heartedness, and fairy-tale magic. It’s a theme that holds allure for many children, although the high ratio of text to visuals (Russian illustrator Pak’s striking tempera paintings appear only once every five or so pages) makes it most suitable for sharing with middle-graders. The cogent preface by co-translator Thomas S. Hansen will enlighten college-level students of comparative lit, who will enjoy encountering this elegant volume in their libraries as much as Hauff’s intended audience.

The Little Mook involves a poor dwarf forced to make his way in the world alone and penniless.  He finds work with a bizarre cat lady and then stumbles upon a magic staff and slippers. These magic tools help him to find work in a kings court only to have the jealousy of those around him form his undoing.

The second story tells the tale of how a once beautiful young boy is kidnapped and turned into a long nosed dwarf by a witch.  He escapes but no one recognizes him in his deformed state.  He finds work as a chef for a duke only to have his life threatened by a neighboring prince.  With the help of princess who had been turned into a goose he finds his old form and escapes and returns to his family.

The stories themselves, while entertaining, are probably more interesting as part of the history of fairy tales and German folklore than as bedtime stories for your kids (not that they wouldn’t serve that purpose).  But for me the useful intro and the art work, when added to the stories, made it easily worth the two dollars I paid for it.

An odd, yet educational, little find.

Cover of The Old Country

At a recent trip to Half-Price Books I picked up The Old Country by Mordicai Gerstein.  It fit right into my interests of late: myths and fables, young adult fiction, etc.  When contemplating writing a review, I thought one way to look at this interesting book is through what you might call dueling reviews.

School Library Journal:

Framed as an elderly immigrant’s story, this overly ambitious tale transpires in a war-torn Balkanesque country in which various factions fight for possession of the land while everyone wishes to oust the Crags. When her brother is conscripted and goes off to war, young Gisella is left to hunt for and kill a chicken-stealing fox that has terrorized her family. However, a trial is held among the forest animals and the fox is exonerated for her “crimes.” In spite of her lifelong warnings, Gisella looks too long into its eyes and she and the fox trade shapes. War separates the humans from the now fox-girl and her animal companions, but they arereunited in prison. A shape-shifting woodland sprite and an enigmatic “owl person” appear to explain the human ravages on the magical world at a “crossroads,” where animals can communicate with humans. Through them, Gerstein explores whether evil is inherent in the world, the costs of war, and the existence of magic. Elements of fantasy and traditional literature are threaded through the realistic and semi-historical horrors of war. This pastiche of theme and genre, tone and voice confuses readers’ expectations and ultimately dilutes the story’s power. Humor follows horror. Buffoonish royalty is overthrown by covetous generals, Gisella’s blinded brother recovers his sight via some gruesome magic and leads the fight for a Crag homeland, and the baffling outcome of the fox/girl body swap may put off readers as well. This is a challenging burgoo of a novel and a rambling character-ridden tale that may have a difficult time finding and holding an audience.

Versus

Publishers Weekly

Gerstein (The Man Who Walked Between the Towers) skillfully shapes a story by turns disturbing and comforting. His hybrid of fantasy and fable explores such themes as human nature, war, magic and music. The tale within a tale opens as Gisella visits her great granddaughter, gives her a present and shares a story of her childhood in the Old Country, where, she says, “I was a little girl and where I was a fox.” Gisella builds on this note of intrigue, as she describes her wise great-aunt warning her that in the woods “things may not be what they seem. Things change; now it’s this, then it’s that. Look closely, be careful, and never look too long into the eyes of a fox.” Indeed, danger befalls the young Gisella when her brother is drafted into the army, and it’s up to her to kill the fox who’s been stealing the family’s chickens. Deep in the woods, strange things occur-talking animals and “small people.” The girl finds herself gazing intently into the fox’s eyes, and the two mysteriously exchange bodies. Meanwhile, war breaks out (“Air that had been full of springtime now had a new odor, bitter and jagged. It was the smell of pain, and it was everywhere”), sending Gisella on a labyrinthine journey with a forest sprite as her guide. Gerstein brilliantly ties the war’s escalation with the dwindling of magic, and caps off this vividly descriptive narrative with an unexpected ending.

My thoughts on the above reviews below.

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