Those of us who love books usually love words, too. Individual words have meaning both through connotation and denotation. We love the imagery, the sound, the weight, the origins, the related words, the words that sound alike, that mean alike. We love words strung together like beads on a necklace, and when we string them together we create pictures and ideas, we create rhythm and rhyme, music. They are both visual and auditory, sometimes even textural, reminding us of scents and flavors from our past, feeding all our senses.
For most of us who love books, who love words, we developed that love when we were quite small, being read to, and later reading to ourselves. Some of us had homes full of books, while others did not. Though my family made liberal use of the public and school libraries, I don’t remember many books owned by us when I was little. When I was older and our family finances improved, there are many more books in my memory of our home. Still, I don’t recall a time when I couldn’t read to myself, as if I were a born reader, so there must have been books living in my home.
One I remember best was a library unto itself, full of rhyme, rhythm and the imagery of words, as well as beautiful illustrations. The Illustrated Treasury of Children’s Literature, edited by Margaret E. Martignoni and published by Grosset & Dunlap, is an anthology of children’s poems and stories. Though its original copyright was 1955, I purchased a 1988 reprinting when my own son was an infant. That 1988 edition boasts more than one million copies of the collection in print.
This lovely anthology includes hundreds of complete poems, fables, and folk tales, as well as excerpts from longer stories. With varied illustrations on almost every page, for me it was a jewel box tumbling its precious stones into this young girl’s mind.
Poetry includes familiar nursery rhymes like Little Boy Blue, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and Jack Sprat, as well as one I recited loudly while swinging my son when he was a baby:
|
Georgie Porgie,
Pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls
And made them cry,
When the boys
Came out to play,
Georgie Porgie ran away. |
Another favorite of mine, with which you may not be familiar, is
The Goops by Gelett Burgess:
The Goops they lick their fingers,
And the Goops they lick their knives;
They spill their broth on the tablecloth –
Oh, they lead disgusting lives!
The Goops they talk while eating,
And loud and fast they chew;
And that is why I’m glad that I
Am not a Goop – are you?
Besides the simple and the silly, some of the poetry is more complex and profound. The second stanza of The Barefoot Boy resonates with today’s climate:
(speaking first of the barefoot boy)
Prince thou art, -- the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye, --
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Fairy tales, folk tales, and fables from all over the world crowd the volume. Much loved entries include The Princess and the Pea, Puss in Boots, and The Little Match Girl. In The Little Match Girl, the poor child, suffering in the bitter cold, peeked in windows to the warm shining rooms beyond her reach. She finally decided to light one match from her inventory, and then another.
She struck up a new one. It burnt, it blazed up, and where the light fell upon the wall, it became transparent like gauze, and she could see right through it into the room. The table was spread with a snowy cloth and pretty china. A roast goose stuffed with apples and prunes was steaming on it. And what was even better, the goose hopped from the dish with the carving knife sticking in his back and waddled across the floor. It came right up to the poor child, and then – the match went out, and there was nothing to be seen but the thick black wall.
The fullness of the imagery in a children’s story is remarkable to me.
Besides the complete short stories, more sophisticated tales are included by excerpt, such as segments from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Treasure Island, and The Wizard of Oz. Little Women, which I didn’t read in whole until I was in college, provided a passage of “Playing Pilgrims.” Describing the sisters, the text moves to Jo:
Fifteen year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way…
Who wouldn’t love Jo, ordinary, awkward, and almost homely, just like most of us felt at one time or another?
At more than 500 pages, this Illustrated Treasury is that, a store of stories and word song, one of my first, best introductions to the riches available through the written word.
Do you have a favorite children's volume from your own childhood or more recently?