Babar the elephant enjoys the beach, in youth; he digs in sand, with a little shell. The shell rests in a fold that he has created with his trunk. After the brutal murder of his mother, Babar retreats to Paris, where he briefly becomes distracted by an elevator in a department store. The kind intervention of an elderly Parisienne ensures that Babar will find his way: He learns about deportment, analytical thought, etc. The king of the jungle dies; Babar must return to his ancestral lands. Here, he rules with grace; he loses his temper only once. That's not to say that life is placid. Awaiting the birth of one of his offspring, Babar can't focus; he must take a brisk walk, in an effort to cope with his nervousness. Also, foreign invaders rear their heads, at times. And Babar's hot-air balloon blows off course; there are moments of hunger, there is the temptation of despair. A great fan of these stories, Maurice Sendak, has written eloquently about the subtext: The precious...