It is undeniable that Shel Silverstein's poetry was a hallmark of most grade-school reading lists. I remember thoughtfully penning a language arts essay about the importance of gratitude and "The Giving Tree," proudly drawing my own "Boa Constrictor" in art class and coyly reciting "I Cannot Go To School Today" to my mother to try to escape a particularly terrifying second-grade swim test.
Now 20 years old and faced with the obligatory anxiety over the end of childhood and what I want to do with the rest of my life, I could not help but let out a brief squeal of excitement when I discovered that HarperCollins recently released a new book of never-before-seen Shel Silverstein poems.
The new book, titled "Every Thing On It" which is also the title of a poem in the book about a hot dog with "everything on it," including a wrench, parrot and bonnet contains 195 pages of poems and drawings by the bestselling author. The poems were compiled from his archives and the collection was published posthumously Silverstein died in 1999 in September.
From the moment I picked up "Every Thing On It," with its cover displaying the familiar pen ink style drawing and simple black text, I knew that I would once again be charmed into Silverstein's hilariously imaginative world.
Relishing the chance to spend a couple hours immersed in my grade-school psyche, my excitement was only reinforced when I read the inscription on the first page the words "For you" were printed above a drawing of a girl in pigtails playing the piano, a childhood pastime, and hairstyle, of mine.
As expected, many of the poems were wonderfully silly. I might have an even more childish sense of humor now than I did as a kid, and so I couldn't help but innocently giggle at a few of the rhymes. Among my favorite funny poems were "Lizard," which began, "A lizard in a blizzard / Got a snowflake in his gizzard" and the poem "Bottle Opener," which read "Openin' bottles with my teeth / They all called me funny / Openin' bottles with my teeth / Now they call me gummy." Tee-hee.
Despite the joy I derived from indulging in my goofy side, "Every Thing On It" also reminded me of the surprising profundity of some of Silverstein's poems. As in his other works, this new collection contains keen observations about human nature. "Masks" deals with the issue of romantic compatibility: "She had blue skin / And so did he / He kept it hid / And so did she. / They searched for blue / Their whole life through, / Then passed right by / And never knew." Another poem, "Underface," is concerned with the concept of true identity: "Underneath my outside face / There's a face that none can see. / A little less smiley, / A little less sure, / But a whole lot more like me." Although I savored the ridiculous rhymes and funny pictures in the rest of the book, I was most struck by moments like these short, insightful poems tucked away within the pages.
The two poems in "Every Thing On It" that most resonated with my sentimental self were the first and the last poem in the book. The first, "Years From Now," reflected a haunting message about the lasting nature of the written word: "Although I cannot see your face / As you flip these poems awhile, / Somewhere from some far-off place / I hear you laughing and I smile." As an aspiring writer, I was similarly moved by the last poem, "When I Am Gone." The poem reads: "When I am gone what will you do? / Who will write and draw for you? / Someone smarter someone new? / Someone better maybe YOU!" Although in another context such sentiments could be read as trite messages about literature and legacy, in "Every Thing On It," these poems read as challenges from Silverstein himself, urging his aging audience not only to laugh and enjoy his poems, but also to engage in their own artistic pursuits.
Wacky or deep, pun-filled or profound, with each poem, I experienced pure joy as I perched on my couch to read it this past week. As I closed the back cover and stretched my arms above my head, I mused at how Silverstein even after his death was still able to give me and my generational peers one more glimpse into his wacky but brilliant mind. Like the Giving Tree, Silverstein still had much to share. And although I, like the little boy, am no longer swinging from branches or playing hide and go seek in the shade, I did get to read more works by one of my favorite childhood poets. And I was happy.
