A brutal war between a cat and a fish. The cat intrudes on the ordinary world--a rainy day, too wet for running around, too cold for a game of catch. Two children sit and stare at the rain; their mother has inexplicably abandoned them for the day. (These were simpler times.) The cat in the hat generally wants to be excitable and annoying; he balances rakes and cakes and fans on his various appendages while bouncing on a ball. (The cat might represent a child's id. Also, Seuss is working with a twist on the language of primers. Dull learn-to-read books might say, "Pat the cat." But Seuss says: "I can work with monosyllabic words and *still* make a gripping story. I'm going to put the cat in a fucking hat." As far as I know, there is one main two-syllable word in the duration of the "The Cat in the Hat." That word is "Mother.")
The fish--the superego--does not really like this cat. (My sympathies are with the fish.) The abusive cat dangles the fish precariously from the top of a tall tower, and here is what the fish says:
I don't like your little games.
Don't like your tilted stage.
The role you made me play.
Of the fool.
No, I don't like you.
I don't like your perfect crime.
How you laugh when you lie.
You said the gun was mine.
Isn't cool.
No, I don't like you.
Indeed, how can we fail to sympathize with the fish? He is made to be a killjoy, when all he's asking is that everyone respect Mother's property. Also, the cat actually endangers the fish's life; at one point, the fish is hurled from a bowl--down, down, through the air--and he just happens to land in a pot. But he could just as easily bash his head against a brick. As far as I know, the cat never apologizes for this madness.
The cat--undeterred--then introduces Thing One and Thing Two. (This is where Seuss really goes wild with language. It seems to me that small children can decide to love or to hate language. Give them enough dull primers, and they might become permanently inarticulate thugs. But Seuss is saying: "What is a Thing? What do those letters mean? A Thing could be a crazy little imp/man running through your house! Also, fans and kites and rakes and gowns do not need to behave the way we expect them to behave. You can do almost anything you want when you're sitting at a desk with a pencil and paper." Of course this story was a major gift to America--and not just to America's children.) Thing One and Thing Two fuck up the house some more with their kites; there are bumps and crashes, and one thinks of Little Max in "Where the Wild Things Are," clawing and kicking and making a mess. Finally, the fish has a point. Mother is pulling into the driveway. The children take a stand; they side with the superego, and they get the two Things into a net. (This is the first action the children have taken in the course of the story.) A bizarrely sad moment follows: The cat understands that he is unwanted, and he leaves; no one tries to console him or pretend the situation is something that it isn't.
But! The cat redeems himself. He has a huge red vacuum cleaner item, and it magically puts all items back in their proper places right before Mom comes home. The cat disappears, and the kids and the fish are right back where they belong. Perhaps they are half-troubled, half-inspired by what has just occurred. Perhaps they have had some "fun that is funny." Perhaps they are also relieved that the afternoon is over. Life often unfolds that way: Fun is rarely, purely, *fun*.
Is there a moral? Is Seuss making a schematic point about a child's moral development? I prefer to think not. I think he's saying, simply: "Hang in there. This is life. There are dull patches, and then there are sometimes insane cats with rakes. There's something to enjoy in many varying scenarios. At least I think so." And that's what I get from Dr. Seuss. That's what I get from "The Cat in the Hat." A compelling, odd story--told with a vocabulary of around 200 words. An inspiration for anyone trying to make worlds with a pen.
The fish--the superego--does not really like this cat. (My sympathies are with the fish.) The abusive cat dangles the fish precariously from the top of a tall tower, and here is what the fish says:
I don't like your little games.
Don't like your tilted stage.
The role you made me play.
Of the fool.
No, I don't like you.
I don't like your perfect crime.
How you laugh when you lie.
You said the gun was mine.
Isn't cool.
No, I don't like you.
Indeed, how can we fail to sympathize with the fish? He is made to be a killjoy, when all he's asking is that everyone respect Mother's property. Also, the cat actually endangers the fish's life; at one point, the fish is hurled from a bowl--down, down, through the air--and he just happens to land in a pot. But he could just as easily bash his head against a brick. As far as I know, the cat never apologizes for this madness.
The cat--undeterred--then introduces Thing One and Thing Two. (This is where Seuss really goes wild with language. It seems to me that small children can decide to love or to hate language. Give them enough dull primers, and they might become permanently inarticulate thugs. But Seuss is saying: "What is a Thing? What do those letters mean? A Thing could be a crazy little imp/man running through your house! Also, fans and kites and rakes and gowns do not need to behave the way we expect them to behave. You can do almost anything you want when you're sitting at a desk with a pencil and paper." Of course this story was a major gift to America--and not just to America's children.) Thing One and Thing Two fuck up the house some more with their kites; there are bumps and crashes, and one thinks of Little Max in "Where the Wild Things Are," clawing and kicking and making a mess. Finally, the fish has a point. Mother is pulling into the driveway. The children take a stand; they side with the superego, and they get the two Things into a net. (This is the first action the children have taken in the course of the story.) A bizarrely sad moment follows: The cat understands that he is unwanted, and he leaves; no one tries to console him or pretend the situation is something that it isn't.
But! The cat redeems himself. He has a huge red vacuum cleaner item, and it magically puts all items back in their proper places right before Mom comes home. The cat disappears, and the kids and the fish are right back where they belong. Perhaps they are half-troubled, half-inspired by what has just occurred. Perhaps they have had some "fun that is funny." Perhaps they are also relieved that the afternoon is over. Life often unfolds that way: Fun is rarely, purely, *fun*.
Is there a moral? Is Seuss making a schematic point about a child's moral development? I prefer to think not. I think he's saying, simply: "Hang in there. This is life. There are dull patches, and then there are sometimes insane cats with rakes. There's something to enjoy in many varying scenarios. At least I think so." And that's what I get from Dr. Seuss. That's what I get from "The Cat in the Hat." A compelling, odd story--told with a vocabulary of around 200 words. An inspiration for anyone trying to make worlds with a pen.
Comments
Post a Comment