Three Little Pigs

You can see why "The Three Little Pigs" would interest James Marshall, toward the end of his career. It has a famous cat-and-mouse game, and this was a favorite game of Marshall's.

"The French Lesson" has cat-and-mouse: George thinks he is in control, but in fact he is not. "The Box" again has cat-and-mouse: Here, it's Martha who mistakenly believes she is the cat. But Martha is the mouse.

Cat-and-mouse requires subtext and disguise: To manipulate your fellow player, you have to say what you don't mean.

So, in "The Three Little Pigs," when the Wolf says, "Let's get turnips," he doesn't mean that. He actually means: "Come outside so I can eat you."

You can sense Marshall's imagination coming to life in the Wolf/Pig exchange. Toward the end of the game, the Smart Pig, having fun, says, "I'd love to go to the market with you! Would three o'clock suit you?" (That jaunty language! When we all know the Pig is thinking, Go f**** yourself.)

The Wolf responds: "Colossal!" (When in fact he is thinking, Do my bidding or plan to be tortured....)

The gap between speech and thought is very funny here, and it's really James Marshall's invention. It continues a tradition--the half-concealed motive, the game of charades--that Marshall had already explored in his "hippo tales."

P.S. I made an error in my "Goldilocks" reading. Marshall actually didn't invent the porridge exchange toward the start of the tale; that's there even in the 1800s. But--as far as I can tell--Marshall *did* invent Baby Bear's response to the scalding of his tongue. "I'm dying!" My favorite line in the story.

Comments

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog