Skip to main content

New in Publishing


 "Lilly and Friends" is out, and it's glorious. I'm not a Henkes expert, so there are big gaps in my knowledge. The new omnibus taught me a few things, right away: (1) The major mice books are often spaced apart by a few years. (2) There hasn't been a landmark Henkes mouse book in several years. (3) Lilly has a significant role in many books, not just the books with "Lilly" in the title.

Take "Chester's Way," where two fastidious mice--Chester and Wilson--have a solid friendship. They enjoy certain predictable activities: daily jam-and-toast, raking leaves, adamantly refusing to pelt one another with snowballs, using hand signals while biking. Then Lilly arrives.

Flamboyant Lilly strays from the norm. She enjoys disguises, and she always carries a water gun. She cuts her sandwiches into stars and bells; she doesn't just cut on the diagonal. She exclaims, "I LOVE EVERYTHING!" And she sometimes has fruit for breakfast--not bread and jam.

Chester and Wilson avoid Lilly and her loudness, and the tension grows. But, one day, older mice approach, and they make "impolite personal remarks." Lilly--dressed as a cat--jumps from the bushes and pulls out her water gun. The older mice run away.

Newly entranced by Lilly, Chester and Wilson begin to change their ways. They add Lilly to their group. The three friends learn from one another. One might become more conservative, in certain ways; another might find himself trying bell-shaped sandwiches at lunchtime. The three share an umbrella. The three pass around sunscreen in the summer. You wouldn't be alone if you thought (incorrectly), "It was ever thus."

The use of the four seasons makes me think of Henkes's later book, "Waiting," and the splashy entrance of Lilly makes me think of Ramona Quimby--how she appeared on the sidelines in "Henry Huggins," then eventually took over her own series. (I'm not the first to compare Henkes to Cleary.)

You may have some extra "Lilly" posts in your future.....
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more