Liars and Saints

  A book I love is "A Place to Land," which is the history of MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech. The book seems to be targeted at middle-school students--students who certainly know what it's like to be unable to complete a writing assignment. We begin with MLK fighting to draft words for the March on Washington (1963). It's not difficult to *start* a draft, but it's difficult to end. "You're circling above the trees, and you're searching, searching for a place to land." MLK gathers many advisors, and he listens--"one mark of a great person is the ability to listen"--and some ideas pop out.  Talk about jobs. Talk about how we have been handed a bad check; America has given us a bad check. Talk about economic justice . The book shows how MLK looked for alliteration and for rhyming *within* words--these grace notes made simple sentences memorable. But the big surprise is this. MLK stood before the Lincoln Monument, and he actual...

 The genius Jerry Pinkney is the subject a retrospective exhibit at the Montclair Art Museum; we're headed over today. One of Pinkney's gifts was his infectious love for the natural world; he had great respect for animals, and he wouldn't alter reality to try to make it conform to his stories. For example, when someone said, "Why don't you adapt The Nightingale to a generic African setting?" ....Pinkney said, "I can't just plop these creatures down on a random patch of grassland. I need to find a part of Africa where nightingales actually make their home." Additionally, to make "The Tortoise and the Hare," Pinkney thought about where these critters might be found (the Southwest), and about what cast-mates might plausibly surround the critters. (Then: How do you use varied colors in the arid Southwestern landscape?) A favorite work of mine is Pinkney's "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," with the brave mongoose, the cunning snake, and the ...

  "Three Little Kittens" was not the sole "cat-work" that Pinkney undertook. Pinkney was also known for "Puss in Boots," "The Lion and the Mouse" (with a prominent lion, a big cat), and "The Ugly Duckling" (featuring a memorably smug, self-certain cat). The NY Times observed that Pinkney was more "at home" making animals than making humans--and the proof is "Little Red Ridinghood." You see a fabulous wolf next to a sort-of-uninspired sketch of a little girl. Pinkney's most-celebrated cat--the "lion," from Aesop's tales--actually takes up a full cover, with no words on the cover. This is very rare in picture-book history. The bold move worked; the book went on to win the Caldecott Medal, and that's Pinkney's *one and only* Caldecott Medal.

  Jerry Pinkney died this week; Pinkney was among the "genius American artists" in children's literature (along with Robert McCloskey, Ezra Jack Keats, Paul Zelinsky, Garth Williams). Pinkney was not the world's greatest writer. His books don't show much evidence of a sense of humor, and excessive wordiness (in "Ugly Duckling," "Nightingale," etc.) is an issue. But Pinkney worked wonders with color and light. His pictures are alive. A favorite of mine is "Puss in Boots," with a bright, plucky cat scheming in rural France, in autumn, sometime around the "Bridgerton" era. My family also loves the "Three Little Kittens," tumbling in leaves. Pinkney thought a great deal about mercy; his famous lion (from the Caldecott winner, "Lion and the Mouse") briefly struggles to show graciousness to a whiny rodent. (Struggles, but succeeds.) The Ant Queen is kind and forgiving to the Grasshopper. The billy goats are gen...

  A favorite character of mine is Puss in Boots. This cat belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, who basically has nothing else to go with his name. Some might feel despair, but Puss in Boots uses his brain. He begins catching rabbits and presenting them to the King, and he claims the rabbits are gifts from the Marquis. Then the cat's ambitions grow. You can't get anywhere without a good suit. Puss has the Marquis take a few laps in a nearby pond. Then he, Puss, assails the King: "My lord has gone swimming, and someone has stolen his fabulous clothing!" The King--recalling the rabbit-gifts--provides the Marquis with a new set of duds. It's these duds that allow the Marquis to feel emboldened; soon, the Marquis is speaking casually with a Princess. Meanwhile, Puss runs off to  a nearby palace, discovers the owner is a shape-shifting ogre, tricks the ogre into becoming a mouse, and eats the mouse. Now, the Marquis has a home for his Princess, and for himself. This is a ...

  Jerry Pinkney likes to make flawed characters "sympathetic" -- where possible. The troll learns from his mistakes -- in "Billy Goats Gruff." The once-arrogant hare ("Tortoise and Hare") accepts defeat at the hands of the tortoise -- and the hare's actions even seem graceful. But another part of Pinkney really enjoys a villain, a monster who cannot be redeemed. I'm ranking my three favorites from Pinkney's work: (3) The cobra, Nag, from "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi": open mouth, flared hood, thick and whip-like tail. (2) The wolf, "Little Red." I love that the wolf seems so lifelike; this makes the old-lady wardrobe seem even more jarring. Once again, a mouth wide open -- a sign of hunger, greed. A dripping tongue; yellow eyes behind eyeglasses. I also enjoy the side-eye shiftiness. (1) Sea-Witch, "Little Mermaid." The witch steals the show. Part-Octopus, part-Medusa, part-alien, with fangs. Once again, we have an open mouth...

 I've written before that Jerry Pinkney seems especially drawn to tales of compassion and mercy. Pinkney finally won his Caldecott Medal for "The Lion and the Mouse"; he said that the thought of the lion freeing the mouse (wielding power for good) was a thought that especially moved him. Soon after, Pinkney wrote a "companion piece," another Aesop adaptation--"The Grasshopper and the Ants." In Pinkney's re-telling, the ending is reimagined so that the Queen Ant welcomes the undisciplined Grasshopper for tea. (Like the lion, the ant shows mercy.) An additional companion volume--a re-telling of the Norwegian fairy-tale "Three Billy Goats Gruff"--again looks at power and kindness. After the ogre is defeated, many writers suggest that he just goes away or dies. But, in a wordless scene, Pinkney presents an alternate ending. He shows the ogre building a house--building, not destroying--and he shows a now-powerful billy goat providing assistanc...

 At times, parenting feels like a competitive sport. We talked with a nice couple yesterday who have their eighteen-month-old learning Mandarin and Spanish, in addition to English. ("They sit in instructional circles at the Goddard School. Our daughter comes home saying MA, and she does not mean MOTHER. She means MAS, as in MAS COMIDA, POR FAVOR.") The subject switched to dental care. "It's good to have your child see the dentist before he is two, just to get the routine started. Basically, the dentist will give your kid a sticker and tell him he has nice teeth. We have a name we can give you. Great guy. He has your child sit with a therapy dog throughout the visit." These parents also had a detailed plan for filling three hours of a toddler's in-flight experience. Decals, sensory activities, pre-boarding calisthenics. That's my life, for now.

 Jerry Pinkney removes the romance from "The Little Mermaid," and he doesn't really land the ending. (The mermaid gets separated from her terrestrial friend forever, which seems problematic.) But, anyway, I'm including some images here from Pinkney's book, because they're so stunning. The mermaid breaks the surface of the water--surrounded by flying fish, living exclamation points. A taskmaster turtle leads a reluctant girl to her chores. The sun seems to set the waves on fire. An undersea kingdom peaks out from behind a mess of bright coral and fish. "God is in the details"--and Pinkney clearly takes such care to invent all of the wrinkles on his weary turtle's neck. "Let form match content": The yellows surrounding the mermaid seem to suggest an explosion, when the mermaid pushes out of the water, up toward land. I still recommend this book, even if there are some choices I--as "storyteller"--wouldn't make.

 It's clear to me that Jerry Pinkney often thinks about mercy. Pinkney's great triumph--"The Lion and the Mouse"--has a powerful lion showing mercy to a tiny irritant. The lion could crush the mouse, but instead sets the mouse free. (Pinkney suggests that it's this act--as least as much as the mouse's later craftiness--that inspired him, and moved him to complete a re-telling.) In a later volume, a sort of companion piece, Pinkney re-tells the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants. My understanding is that some versions of this piece have a sour ending. The ants have toiled all year, and the grasshopper has goofed off. In winter, the ants will not make room for the grasshopper in a warm den. Let the grasshopper reap what he has sewn! Pinkney rejects this ending and has the queen ant invite the nervous grasshopper for tea. It's an extraordinary moment, because the ant doesn't explicitly state that she is saving the grasshopper's life. And she doesn...

 Most people know the bare bones of "The Ugly Duckling": a baby looks different and is mocked, but eventually the baby grows to be a magnificent swan. Don't make easy assumptions about difference! Difference can be good. Jerry Pinkney tells the full story, and it's more harrowing than I would have thought. Like Joseph, the ugly duckling becomes separated from his siblings. He spends many months on an odyssey. Hunters almost shoot him; dogs almost eat him. He tries to dwell in a farmhouse, with a nasty cat, but he misses the water too much. By this point, he has encountered so much cruelty, he isn't sure he deserves to live. He assumes strangers have ill will (though they're sometimes actually friendly). By luck, our hero makes it through the winter and finds "his people." He rejoices. He says he is grateful to have lived through all the pain he encountered--because, now, he can *really* appreciate happiness. Jerry Pinkney has won many awards--most no...

Our son is shifting from formula to whole milk. This entails several adventures; for example, we're now meant to be "brushing J's teeth" on a regular basis. J's pediatrician can say this with a straight face. She can also say: "Just pin him to the ground with your two knees; kneel over him. Then, while he is restrained, swipe a wet washcloth at his gums. That's all. Just get him in the habit." An awkward silence follows. "Yes," I say slowly. "Yes, I'll definitely do that." When the topic comes up again, a few weeks later, I say that the teeth-brushing has been a triumph, and then I quickly change the subject. Whole milk means occasional constipation. Joshua's face will get bright red, and he'll cry, in distress, as he tries to squeeze something out. My husband will become Florence Nightingale, showing deep empathy, recalling his own struggles with a "clogged system." ("Josh, I have BEEN THERE, man.......

 Jerry Pinkney worked on a collection of Aesop's Fables--years ago--and, after that, he found himself returning again and again (in his thoughts) to "The Lion and the Mouse."   This is a standard tale of two unlikely friends assisting each other. (It took an aquatic form in William Steig's "Amos and Boris.") A mouse flees an owl and plunges into the fur of a majestic lion. The lion ponders this situation. He could have a mouse for a snack. But he is magnanimous; he releases the mouse. Later, his kindness is repaid. Poachers ensnare the lion. But the mouse--recalling earlier generosity--runs to the lion and chews through various knots. The lion is freed.   Pinkney says--as a child--he mainly admired the mouse. That clever guy--asserting some power over a lion! But, in adulthood, Pinkney recognizes that the lion is just as enchanting as the mouse. To have great brute force, and to choose *not* to use that force in a punitive way: That's a sign of nobility....

 Driving to Rosh Hashanah dinner, my husband became reflective. "I think you can say this was a genuinely awful year for our country," he remarked. "Regardless of your political beliefs." He said, "There is a Jewish tradition that if you die on Rosh Hashanah, it means God really loved you. God had such a hard time subtracting you from the Earth.....He waited until the very last moment, the very end of the year. So people are saying that about Ruth Bader Ginsburg." Marc's irreverence: "Of course if you die right AFTER Rosh Hashanah....right at the START of the new year....it means God didn't care about you very much......JK!" My own year has been a blur. It would have been a blur regardless of Covid. It's a great deal of baby time. The other day, I passed by the Irish Pub in our neighborhood, and I saw a sign: WE'RE HALFWAY TO ST. PAT'S DAY 2021! And this told me that lockdown has lasted for a half-year; we were already in lock...

 Today, I tip my hat to “The Little Red Hen,” by Jerry Pinkney. This is a simple fable. A hen finds some seeds. Will her friends help her to make bread? The dog is a good digger; he could help with planting. The rat has a reliable tail; this could assist with threshing. The goat carries things all day; he could certainly carry materials to the miller. And the pig loves the kitchen; he could help with baking. Each animal--at least mildly self-obsessed--says, “No, I won’t help.” So, when the bread arrives, the hen makes a natural choice. It’s bread for her babies; it’s not going to the goat, the dog, the rat, the pig. As always, Pinkney distinguishes himself with his love for detail and his attention to the natural world. Each flower has a very tiny face; the sun studies the hen with intelligent eyes; in the background, a frog shoots its tongue at a fly. Costuming tells us about character; only the fastidious hen, of all the animals, wears a hat as protection against the sun. Scale i...

I borrowed Jerry Pinkney's "Noah's Ark" from the library and really loved it. (Full disclosure: Joshua has the Hebrew name "Noah," because his dads are obsessed with animals and various zoos.) Noah's Ark is a terrifying and somewhat ghastly tale, and when it's used as a heartwarming interlude (say, in Christian Bible Camp, or in a session of Tot Shabbat), I'm a bit stunned. This is a tale of a homicidal father. God is so irritated with his bratty humans, he decides to abdicate his parenting duties. He'll just destroy most of terrestrial life, except for one favored son, Noah, and except for the animals Noah's family can herd onto an ark. I do like how sudden and horrifying and irrational all of this is; it does seem to "gel" with actual experience. But Joshua and I skip over the implications. There is the iconic moment when the animals march onto the ark, and the genius Jerry Pinkney milks this for all it is worth. L...