Liars and Saints

 Children can be brutal, and you miss this if you're watching "Daniel Tiger." But Russell Hoban knew the truth. He didn't mince words. In "Best Friends for Frances," Frances wants to play ball. Her sister, Gloria, asks to play, and Frances bluntly says, "You're too little." As Gloria cries, Frances sings a song: "Sisters that are much too small are really not much good at all -- except for crying." And Frances is our heroine! Children can be brutal, but also, children can be resilient. For Gloria, a setback is merely a setback. Gloria knows how to catch frogs -- and this is a kind of social capital. Gloria will exchange her knowledge for a game of baseball.  It seems to me that Frances doesn't deserve Gloria. But Russell Hoban knows some things about karma, and it's quite satisfying when thoughtless Frances is coolly dismissed by her "friend" Albert. (Gloria rubs a little salt in a wound. "Wow," she says to...

  Russell Hoban wrote one dark and cynical masterpiece--like something from Patricia Highsmith. The book is "A Bargain for Frances," and it stars two warring friends. Little Frances wants a china tea seat. But her acquaintance, Thelma, says that that particular set is no longer on the market; Thelma says it's better just to accept a plastic tea set. Thelma then uses cash from the sale to buy her own china set; the china set has never really been off the market. The story gets crazier, and it ends with a famous exchange. "I'll need to be careful around you," says Thelma. And Frances asks: "Do you want to be  careful ? Or do you want to be  friends ?" Living, breathing, bizarre personalities--there on the page. And Hoban does his work with a light touch, with very few words.

 Like James Marshall, Russell Hoban was amazingly consistent; the last of the Frances Badger books is just as popular as the first one. Like Marshall, Hoban uses a slightly ridiculous protagonist who struggles with certain aspects of daily life: eating, maintaining a friendship, managing anxiety, coping with envy. Maybe the greatest Frances book--"Bread and Jam for Frances"--has Frances rejecting a well-balanced diet. She will eat only bread and jam. The story has inevitable twists; peer pressure plays a role, and also, when Mother Badger stops fighting Frances, then the bread-and-jam diet seems less sensational, and less interesting. Frances finally demands spaghetti with meatballs. To me, the thing that makes this book so special is the set of songs Frances writes about food. For example, a note to an egg: I do not like the way you slide, I do not like your soft inside, I do not like you lots of ways, And I could do for many days  Without eggs. And a song for meat: What do ...

 A tour-de-force picture book looks easy--but of course the task isn't easy. Russell Hoban wrote "Bedtime for Frances" and landed a "win," and so, superstitiously, he gave "B" titles to several subsequent books: "Bread and Jam for Frances," "Baby Sister for Frances," "Bargain for Frances." Frances is a great character; she isn't a brat, and she isn't perfect. She doesn't want to go to bed. Her parents send her off--and the emotions drummed up by bedtime lead Frances to feel confused. "Did you kiss me, Mother?" Frances asks. The question is a stalling tactic, but it's also a real question: Frances is living through an inner storm, and she doesn't actually recall whether she has been kissed. Next, Frances invents reasons to be awake. The cloak near the bed is a monster. The wind on the glass is a monster. The crack in the ceiling holds a monster. Frances never seems really horrified; instead, sh...

 So many things I couldn't anticipate about having a toddler. For example, Josh (18 months today) tends to believe that the behavior he observes is the exact behavior that he should replicate. So, if I feed him, he in turn tries to feed me. I hand him a carrot, he slurps the hummus off the carrot, and then he deposits the chewed-up carrot back in my hand (a gift). Josh also constantly feels my hands in his hair -- so, in turn, he climbs behind the couch and surprises me by restyling my own "coiffure." I like to rub my forehead against Josh's -- not for any special reason -- but I believe Josh now thinks this is a universal form of greeting. When I hand him a doll, he very slowly bows his head to the doll, then administers an Eskimo kiss (while quietly squealing with delight). That's all for this week. Our books: *"Birthday for Frances." Hoban's dry observations about his head badger's lunacy -- Chef's Kiss! *"The Snowy Day." Obvious...