Skip to main content

Kids' Books on Saturday




 I have a special fondness for "woodland creature" stories: "Goodnight Moon" (with its bunny protagonist), "Rufus the Bat," the "Frances Badger" series, the birds (and other inventions) of Leo Lionni, the mice tales of Kevin Henkes, the squirrel-centered "Good Day," the close-knit family in "Fantastic Mr. Fox," the Rosemary Wells raccoons.




These animals are slightly exotic to children--but they are still "within reach." They are animals that kids can see (and think about) on a daily, or almost daily, basis.

Also, a mouse seems so humble, so easily overlooked; there is something beautifully counterintuitive about "centering" the (fictional) concerns of a mouse.

This brings me to "Anatole." Eve Titus, the writer, scored a hit with "Basil of Baker Street," which yielded the "Great Mouse Detective" (possibly the best of all Disney animated films). In "Anatole," Titus has the shrewd idea of allowing a mouse to overhear a human complaint. ("Mice in my kitchen! Eating all the cheese! Useless pests!")

Heroic Anatole, the mouse in question, chooses not to become defensive. He responds to the human complaint by devising a "cheese critique" system; he rates the cheeses at the local dairy plant, so that the cheesemaker can maximize his profits.

The cheesemaker--moved by Anatole's generosity--tries to pursue a friendship. But he respects A's wish for anonymity. He offers free French pastries--and the symbiotic relationship persists (on and on, ad infinitum).

This is an elegant love story; not a word is wasted.

Five stars.

Comments

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...

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...

My Anniversary

 What do gay men give each other, after seven years of marriage? Tickets: Bernadette Peters, in concert. Stephen Sondheim identified BP's "Sunday in the Park" performance as one of the three or four great achievements he himself had witnessed, in musical theater history. Other actors speak of Bernadette as a teacher. Andrew Rannells has described a wish to see BP in "Follies," alone, just on a quiet afternoon, when "BP might break my heart." Victoria Clark has written about studying BP--collecting insights--in the same way the novelist Jami Attenberg has borrowed extensively from "Olive Kitteridge," by Elizabeth Strout. No one is better at seeming wounded. BP has such extraordinary access to personal pain, you feel you're overhearing a private confession. I have loved her work from my high-school years onward. My spouse allowed me to screen a clip from "A Little Night Music"; he watched from start to finish, without fidgeting or...