Subversive Favorites: The Worst Person in the World at Crab Beach by James Stevenson

While it is generally understood that bad behavior in children is not tolerable, bad behavior in the elderly seems to be more acceptable. I am generalizing, of course, but allowances are made for age, and the older you are, the more people let you get away with being a curmudgeon. This is certainly the case with The Worst, the eponymous anti-hero of the "Worst Person in the World" series. He is a cantankerous codger who is surrounded by kindly, patient neighbors who humor his foul moods while they wait for him to come round to their way of thinking.

The Worst is not only bad tempered and unreasonable, but he is at his happiest when a situation is at its worst. If he's not making life miserable for someone else, he's more then willing to make life unpleasant for himself. When he goes on vacation in The Worst Person in the World at Crab Beach, he chooses a hotel based on how many mosquitoes they have (in this case, many,) how awful the food is, and, when given the choice of room, he chooses a room in the cellar with a hard bed and "no view whatsoever."  However, The Worst meets his match in caustic Miriam and her odious son, Cranston. And that's what makes this, for me, the best of The Worst.

Miriam is considerably younger than The Worst, so there is no justifying her surliness. Described as "shrill and screechy," she is liberal with her use of insults and would be a nightmare to meet in person. And yet, she has her softer side. In an unparalleled display of maternal love, she flings The Worst's lunch into the ocean when he kicks over her son's sand castle. '"Lunch is over," she said. "Why don't you shove off?"' When The Worst declares that he is leaving, Cranston, not to be out done by his mother, quips, '"Not fast enough."' You just can't get dialog like that in a children's book anymore! At least, not without a moral.

So why do I recommend this book about grown-ups behaving badly? Well, it's funny. And other than enjoying The Worst and Miriam fling Three Stooges-style zingers at each other, I am always in favor of books that show that grumpiness is an option. I don't believe that a book has to be an edifying experience every time a child picks one up; it's okay for them to laugh at foibles for the sake of them. But since an entire book can not be sustained by one joke, author/illustrator Stevenson slips in an almost unrecognizable dose of warm-fuzzy into his Worst books. In this case The Worst, Miriam, and Cranston clearly recognize kindred spirits and become friends. For them, friendship means sitting around drinking prune juice, watching poison-ivy grow, and chasing away would be visitors. It works for them (and Klingons, but that's a tangent we don't need to visit right now.)

An argument could be made that The Worst is simply lonely, and his behavior is a way to shield that. Like someone who practices false modesty to fish for a compliment, The Worst always manages to surround himself with people, despite the "Go Away" signs in his yard. I'm not totally convinced; I simply think The Worst is crusty, difficult and unrepentant. By crossing paths with Miriam and Cranston, The Worst is actually challenged by behavior as bad as his own. Fortunately, for all of us, it only makes him.....worse.

Subversive Favorites: It's a Book by Lane Smith

This post was originally prompted by an on-line discussion I've been following--and contributed to--about whether or not this picture book should be shelved as a picture book, fiction or in the children's room at all. You might have heard about It's a Book on NPR,  or read a review of it (there are many, and they are favorable.) You might have even read it yourself (please do!) What prompted the discussion was the use of a single word--and here I am going to give away the punchline of the book, so if you don't want the wicked wit revealed.....SPOILER!


The conversation was prompted by Lane Smith's use of the word, "jackass." He uses the word twice: at the very beginning, when he is introducing the characters in the book, one of which is, indeed, a jackass. He uses it again, with much more dramatic effect at the very end, when Jackass is addressed by name. However, by the end of the book the reader has realized that Jackass is not just a donkey, but a fool as well, hence the comedic brilliance of that utterance.

So first and foremost, thank you Lane Smith for reclaiming the word for legitimate use in children's literature! After all, 'jackass' is not an intrinsically bad word, one which has simply been commandeered for nefarious purposes (can anyone say, 'bitch'?) Actually, to be more accurate, I think it suffers from its association with a certain part of the human body (can anyone say, 'Uranus'?) But I digress. Children may snicker at the word. Or, perhaps if we give them a little credit, they might actually get the point. Adults reading this book certainly should. And if, after tucking their kids into bed for the night, they pick up their Kindles and iPads with a twinge of guilt, well....that's not such a bad thing. Books work precisely because the technology is simple. The only interface necessary involves picking it up and giving in to its pull. Talk about subversive!

To be honest, the books of Lane Smith beg the question--is sarcasm wasted on young readers? Perhaps 'sarcasm' is the wrong word for what I am trying to describe, which is closer to sophisticated, sly, sharp humor. If you revisit The Happy Hocky Family Moves to the Country (a personal favorite) or Glasses, Who Needs 'em? or even the much lauded John, Paul, George and Ben, there is a bite to these stories which rises above situational humor or visual jokes. Do young readers, 'get it'? Of course, as with any book, it depends on the reader. But in my opinion, why not test a child's wit? I've witnessed my own daughter, who at nine still laughs at burps, fling a zinger out every now and then. It's like she's using humor to test deeper intellectual waters. And in the end, isn't that what all great books do--challenge us intellectually?

Subversive favorites: Imogene's Antlers by David Small

I've decided to start a new, periodic feature on this blog that highlights some of my favorite picture books (possibly branching out into Easy Readers and Chapter Books if inspiration strikes) which I think are....well.....subversive. And we'll start with Imogene's Antlers, written and illustrated by David Small. This gem of a book, which was featured on Reading Rainbow, tells the simple story of a little girl, named Imogene, who wakes up one morning and, as the title suggests, discovers that she has sprouted a pair of antlers. Clearly a happy-go-lucky sort of kid, Imogene takes to her new appendages without so much as a tear. In fact, she discovers that antlers are handy--she sits in the kitchen with the maid, who uses the antlers as a towel rack; she go out to feed the birds with antlers full of doughnuts, as placed there by the cook; when she practices the piano she fills her antlers with candles, Liberache style. Imogene adapts and has a good time doing it.

Her mother, on the other hand, swoons. She calls the doctor--nothing to be done. She calls the school principal--he can only stare menacingly at the unperturbed Imogene. She calls the milliner in an attempt to disguise the antlers with a custom-made hat. You'll have to read the book to see how that turns out. The next morning when Imogene comes down to the breakfast table, sans antlers, the mother greets her with open arms, so glad to "see her back to normal........" That pregnant pause is part of the text, by the way, because Imogene has another surprise in store for her family, tucked behind her and out of sight.

No explanation is ever given as to why Imogene wakes up with antlers. However, we know something very important about her family by the fact that in her household there is a kitchen maid, a cook, and a milliner on speed-dial--they are old money! And what does old money hate? A scandal! And what has Imogene brought upon the family, just by being herself--scandal! A scandal so bad, they've resorted to a ridiculous hat in the attempt to keep it under wraps.

So here comes the subversion: Imogene doesn't care. It's clear from following the story that Imogene is quite enjoying her antlers, and has even found ways to utilize them. At the end of the day, when she's tucked away in bed, she sighs, "remembering the long, eventful day." The illustration shows that it was no tired sigh which escaped her lips, but one of satisfaction, in which ''long, eventful" translates to "an awful lot of fun". And when she comes downstairs to show her family what she's got in store for them now, there is no denying the impish delight on her face. Imogene will never be the same again, and she's embraced the change, scandal be damned.

That's my kind of girl!