Skip to main content

A Great Picture Book

 "Hazel's Amazing Mother" is centered on a raccoon, Hazel, who is like a new version of Little Red Ridinghood. She has cash from her mom; her goal is to find goodies for an upcoming picnic. She sets out with her doll, Eleanor, but she keeps getting waylaid.


In a dark wood, Hazel encounters a nasty chipmunk--Doris, an agent of chaos. Without explanation, Doris and her minions assault the doll Eleanor. The carriage-toy gets disemboweled. Eleanor is dropped in a puddle.

Through the power of filial love, Hazel is able to summon her mother. A great gust of wind carries Mom's picnic blanket-cum-airplane--carries this item way, way, way across the countryside. In the dark wood, Mom rescues Hazel. She puts Doris through a "natural-consequence" workout. ("Fix the doll. Fix the carriage.") And the picnic occurs--just as envisioned.

I like Rosemary Wells's sense of freedom. She does not have to "explain" the root cause of Doris's nastiness. She does not need to confine herself to the laws of nature--if a magic thunderstorm is required, then a magic thunderstorm can occur. Also, there isn't anything overly syrupy in the book; Hazel has a rough time and finds her way through the rain, and there isn't a need for a full, booming orchestra or a sermon about learning and growing. This is just a simple fairy tale.

Wells's light touch is a master class for other writers. For example, she is a favorite of Judy Blume's.




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...

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...

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...