At the beginning of Spring term, when my pre-med friend informed me that she had spent her break tackling "Anna Karenina" and "Othello," I began to question my qualifications for writing this column on books. I'll admit it even though I'm planning on majoring in English I've never read Tolstoy and my knowledge of Shakespeare is severely limited.
Despite my shortcomings in the area of high-brow literature, however, I do believe that I can claim expertise in one genre that, I would argue, should be appreciated just as much as the traditional canon and cherished even more children's literature.
Children's books conjure some of the most vivid fantasy worlds you will ever encounter. From Oz to Wonderland, these "other" worlds are filled with characters that are both crazy and complex villains every bit as frightening as murder-mystery antagonists and heroes just as thoughtful as the main characters of Penguin classics. Deceptively simple, children's books can transport you with ease to unfamiliar territory and challenge your preconceptions of what constitutes reality. Lewis Carroll's "Through the Looking Glass," for example, famously toys with the notion of time. At one point, the Red Queen informs Alice that "it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
More often than not, these stories are also didactic, probing such fundamental themes as what it means to be a good person and what we would risk to save the ones we love. In the "Chronicles of Narnia," for example, Aslan (a not-so-subtle Christ figure) imparts moral lessons to the Pevensie children, urging them to fight together for the common good. Similarly, J.K. Rowling's Dumbledore continuously doles out pearls of wisdom that address the eternal struggle between good and evil.
But unless you grew up living under a rock, you've already read the Narnia series and the Harry Potter books. These works are indeed foundational (and wonderful), but in the realm of children's literature there is so much more to be explored bizarre fantasies and frightening trilogies and charming, puzzle-filled fictions.
So where should you start your journey into this seemingly infinite genre?
Well that, to quote the ever-erudite Cheshire Cat, "depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
If you think Dorothy's slippers are ruby-colored, I suggest you begin by reading "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz," a tale even more magical than the one told in the Hollywood musical version. L. Frank Baum's Oz series is comprised of a whopping 14 books, and such installments as "Ozma of Oz" and "Tik-Tok of Oz" my personal favorites introduce characters even more lovable than the Cowardly Lion and more terrifying than the Wicked Witch of the West.
For exciting magical adventures like Oz, I would suggest taking a look at 1974's "The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles," written by Julie Andrews Edwards, or anything by Edward Eager or Eva Ibbotson.
"New Yorker" cartoonist and short-story author James Thurber's "The Thirteen Clocks" a phenomenal and lyrical story about a prince who rescues a young women from an evil duke is also a must-read.
For a more recent release, try "The Mysterious Benedict Society" (2007) by Trenton Lee Stewart an adventure story about a quartet of child geniuses on a mission to save the planet before everyone is brainwashed by covert messages transmitted through television broadcasts.
If you're looking for something similarly zany but a little on the creepy side, I'd recommend two of Roald Dahl's lesser known works: "George's Marvelous Medicine" and "The Witches." Also, if you haven't already read Dahl's "Matilda," you should probably go do that. Now.
I could continue for pages, but I'll wrap up my suggestions by listing a few more titles not to be missed: "Over Sea, Under Stone," "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane," "Bloomability," "The Egypt Game," "The Book of Three," "Ballet Shoes" and "Little Men."
Now at this point you may be wondering how it's possible to read these books without feeling super-sketchy, like that one rogue middle-aged-man sitting by himself in the movie theater during a new Disney release.
The solution is simple: children.
I lucked out in this regard I have a 10-year-old sister who doesn't like to read. "Bettering" a non-reading younger sibling by reading to her is quite simply the best excuse out there to dive into the realm of children's literature. You get major points from the parents (though generally not the sibling), and you also get to feel completely legit rereading "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" for the umpteenth time.
If you're short in the sibling department, however, never fear. Just hang out in the children's section of the Howe Library you will find children. And what's more, these library-lurking kids may even want to read.
If you're uncomfortable holding random kids hostage, that's cool too. Pick up a copy of "Boys and Girls Forever: Children's Classics from Cinderella to Harry Potter" or "Don't Tell the Grown-Ups: Subversive Children's Literature" two works of literary criticism by Cornell University professor emerita Alison Lurie to legitimize your choice of reading material.
Or you could simply justify your reading list with the words of a beloved children's book character, Winnie the Pooh: "I am a bear of very little brain, and long words bother me."
