For the first time in a long time,
I’m not reading much. Or as much, I guess. I still read a little each day, usually at
night, right before bed. I curl up with
my glass of wine and my dog in my favorite smooshy chair and disappear for a
while between pages. But all of a
sudden, I have a Hobby.
I am not a person who has Hobbies. Other than reading, of course. I don’t scrapbook, or play on any teams, or
collect anything. And I’ve never thought
of myself as very creative…I’m too type-A/neat-freak/anal-retentive/what-have-you
for that. I spent a lot of years
practicing violin and being a musician, and even though I loved music at the
time, I realize now that I gave up a lot of other potential interests in order
to pursue it. (Music, if you want to be
good at it, takes up most of your time.)
I don’t play much anymore, and I honestly don’t miss it – which seems
sad, or unbelievable, since music was such an enormous part of my life for so
many years – because now I have the freedom and the time to enjoy other
things. But back to my Hobby. This past Christmas, Santa brought Eloise, my
oldest, a sewing machine – and I. Can’t. Stop. Sewing. No one is more shocked than me at this turn
of events, I assure you. I thought that
this sewing machine purchase would be one of those “good mom” things I would
force myself to do, as in, “Okay, honey, let’s make a pillowcase or a doll
dress, and then that’s all for today,”
check it off the list, QUALITY LEARNING TIME ACCOMPLISHED BLAMMO, but instead,
I don’t want to do anything else right now.
I find myself beginning sentences with the phrase, “So if I had a
serger…” and spending all my disposable income on swatches. At night when I sit down, I read a chapter of
my book and then find my mind wandering to seam allowances, and fabric combinations,
and interfacing weight conundrums…and I’m really not used to this. This is uncharted territory, people. I’m finding it hard to concentrate on
anything else.
But one thing remains, even though
I’ve slowed down on my own reading for the moment (and I’m sure this is a phase
and my reading life will return to normal soon, at least once I finish those
dresses for the girls, and the pajama pants for Owen, and the teacher gifts,
and, and, and…). But I digress. We read to the kids every night. I know all of you do, too, this is nothing
especially unique. But I’ve always loved
children’s books, and have had a collection of them since college. Here are my favorites. I’m sure I’m forgetting tons of them; these
are just the ones I could remember offhand and want to recommend to you for
your library. Let me know the ones I’ve
missed! We’re always looking for the
next fabulous addition.
(A note: Originally, children’s literature was going
to be a single post, but now I realize that there is so much to talk about that
I need to divide this entry into two – picture books today and chapter books
next time. That’s the plan at this
point, at least.)
Baby Faces
I give this book to every
expectant mother I know. It was all
three of my kids’ first “favorite” book – the one Eloise asked for over and
over again: “Mo! Mo!” (translation: “More!
More!”), the one Iris toddled over to bring to me, clutched tightly in
her chubby fingers. They loved the
bright photographs and the simple language, and probably identified in their
baby-way with the faces: they recognized
themselves in the pictures. Or, one
would assume. Anyway, this simple book
is a must-have.
Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown
The Very Hungry
Caterpillar by Eric Carle
This goes without saying, doesn’t
it? If you have children and don’t have
these books already, please rush to the store immediately to buy them.
Make haste. And tell no one that
you didn’t own them previously. (But
skip that horrendous Where the Wild
Things Are movie with that revolting feral child. It is stab-yourself-in-the-eye terrible.)
The Olivia books by Ian Falconer
I love Olivia. I love the simple drawings and muted color palette,
I love her precocious personality. I
love the clever references to high culture:
Maria Callas, Jackson Pollack, Eleanor Roosevelt. I love how the parents are as relatable to me
as Olivia must be to my kids – Ian Falconer writes as much for the adults
reading aloud as he does for the children listening. (Thank you, you thoughtful man.) They are funny, and so smart.
Animalia by Graeme Base
This isn’t a perfectly written
book; I’d say the writing is just serviceable.
What’s superb about this one is the artwork. The detail on the pages is simply staggering
– pictures within pictures, optical illusions, puzzles, and tricks for the eye,
everywhere you look. It’s an alphabet
book, each page devoted to one letter…meaning that every single item drawn on each page begins with the appointed
letter. It’s simply incredible. I’ve owned this book for about fifteen years
and read it to the kids frequently, yet still, every time I open it, I notice
something new.
The Frances books by Russell Hoban
I still have my copies of these
books from when I was a child, and they are just as relevant today. Frances is a normal kid (though a hedgehog,
yes) learning lessons about how to live.
Her parents are paragons of virtue, supremely patient and always
kind. These are “warm fuzzy” stories, calling
for a mug of cocoa and a cozy snuggle under a quilt while reading. I love Frances’s quirky imperfections, her
silly songs, and how she jealously eats the bubble gum she buys for her
sister’s birthday present (though she apologizes later, sweet girl). A fun bonus is that you can tell that Hoban
must love food. Frances’s lunches always
sound fabulous: lobster-salad
sandwiches! Whole fresh tomatoes! Ice-cold root beer packed in ice! And always a
tiny little cardboard salt-and-pepper shaker set, for seasoning.
Anything by Mo Willems
Mo Willems, he of Knuffle Bunny fame. Again, exquisite artwork – in the Knuffle
Bunny stories, Willems juxtaposes cartoonish, drawn characters atop
black-and-white photographs of New York City street scenes. The overall look of these books is quite
mature, yet kids love them. Plus, he’s hilarious. Willems also writes the Elephant and Piggy
series and the Pigeon stories, but my favorite is probably Edwina: The Dinosaur Who Didn’t Know She Was Extinct, because
within its pages we are introduced to the best-named character of all time,
wait for it...Reginald Von Hoobie-Doobie. LOVE.
The Max and Ruby series by
Rosemary Wells
These always make me laugh,
because Max is such a mess. (Possibly
because his parents are chronically absent and he’s being raised by his
eight-year-old big sister, but whatevs.)
Wells somehow manages to construct Max’s character as what I would
describe as charmingly amoral. He does what he wants, when he wants, and
rarely speaks (“Dragon shirt! Dragon
shirt!” being one of his few utterances in the entire series), but he never
annoys me, perhaps because sweet Ruby is always so tolerant of him. Another great one by Wells is Morris’s Disappearing Bag, in which a
little boy receives a mysterious and magical Christmas gift – a bag into which
one can climb and completely disappear.
(And this was thought up years
before Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak, y’all.) I remember reading this one as a child and
imagining the possibilities for hours.
Sylvester and the Magic
Pebble by
William Steig
Steig is perhaps more known for
writing Shrek (another example of how
the best movies are usually great books first), but I love Sylvester even more. I
recently read a quote from Ian Falconer naming Sylvester and the Magic Pebble as his favorite children’s book of
all time. But just in case that’s not
enough of a recommendation, here’s mine.
It is wonderful. Sylvester, a
donkey, finds a magic pebble that grants wishes. (Who doesn’t love dreaming about that?) But Sylvester’s wish leads to dire
consequences, and it is ultimately a story about family and love and healing. It even manages sweetness without being
saccharine – ultimately a tough task, especially in children’s literature.
The Paper Bag Princess by Robert N. Munsch
Thank God for this one. It is the feminist answer to the alarming
glut of princess literature. (Unfortunately,
it might be the only one. If anyone
knows of others, please let me know.) In
it, Princess Elizabeth uses her brains and courage to outwit a fearsome dragon
and ultimately save her betrothed, Prince Ronald. Regrettably for Ronald, he is a douchebag (in
the book, the word “bum” is used, of course), and insults Elizabeth upon being
saved. So, Elizabeth decides not to
marry him after all. The End. Enough said.
Perfect.
The Charlie and Lola series by
Lauren Child
Like Max and Ruby, Charlie and
Lola seem to raise themselves. The
parents are always off-scene, and Charlie is a very tender caretaker of his
little sister. I like these books
because of their essential English-ness.
The language Child uses is just slightly different from American
English, and it’s refreshing and a tiny bit foreign, and simply
entertaining. It is almost impossible to
read these aloud without affecting a British accent, really. Plus the illustrations are lovely and teeming
with graphic interest; all in all, they are some of the most enjoyable stories
we own.
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
Again, this is one I remember
fondly from childhood. This is not a book
for the very young child – it is long, and it is serious – specifically, its
plot relates to death and the afterlife.
I’m sure you’ve read it, but if you haven’t, get ready to cry. (I won’t say more, because spoiling this tale
for those who haven’t read it would be frankly criminal.) Such a beautiful story, and one that would be
helpful in teaching children about loss, when such a lesson is required.
The Hallo-Weiner by Dav Pilkey
I’ve read this book to my kids
approximately one million times. It is one
of those stories to which each, in turn, became addicted and requested nightly
(if not more often). But it’s a funny
little read, so I don’t mind. In it, a
daschund named Oscar dresses for Halloween night in the costume his mother has
lovingly made for him. Embarrassingly
for Oscar, the costume is a hot dog bun, complete with mustard. His friends laugh at him and leave him behind
(it’s hard for poor, dear Oscar to walk in the constricting costume), but not
for long: there’s an exciting ending, and Oscar ends up saving the day. (Sorry for the spoiler, sometimes it can’t be
helped.) The book is full of silly
wordplay that makes the kids laugh, but more importantly, it is a story about
sacrifice and friendship.
Anything by Kevin Henkes
Kevin Henkes is a master
storyteller and his books are relatable, both to kids and to adults. His stories follow a predictable pattern
(introduction, conflict, solution), but the pattern is always flawlessly
executed. Henkes’ topic usually deals
with growing up, and the things the characters learn in each book are taught
with gentleness and humor. My favorite
one is probably Owen (though I might
be partial to it because of the title alone), in which the parents endeavor to
break Owen of his blanket attachment before the school year begins, but they
are all charming books filled with important lessons.
The Jesus Storybook Bible – Sally Lloyd-Jones
If you’re looking for a great
beginner bible, this is the one for you.
My son recently told me that this was his most favorite book. (No small thing, coming from a five-year-old
boy who is more interested in Legos and Star Wars than anything else at the moment.) The stories are short and engaging and the
illustrations beautiful, and in each story, Lloyd-Jones manages to explain how
the tale relates directly to Jesus and his life, death, and resurrection. I like it when an author is able to make a
complicated subject understandable (especially this subject), and when she can do this for children, I’m even more
impressed. It is a wonderful and useful volume.
I’m interested to know what’s in
your library. What do you love to read
to your little ones?
