No More Books About Toy Rabbits
Okay, children’s book writers out there, I’m giving you fair warning: If you’re planning to write about a stuffed toy that learns to love a child, you’re going to need to make it a bear, or an otter, or a hedgehog or something. My husband has declared a permanent moratorium on stuffed bunny books in our house. And, after wiping the tears last night from the faces of my children, myself, and (almost) one or two from Dave, I have agreed. No more bunnies.
The Velveteen Rabbit has long been known as the go-to book for sick, evil kids who want to watch their parents cry. (You know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen their eyes when you get to those last chapters. They’re watching you try to hold it together, not paying a bit of attention to the story. Little sadists.) Anyway, last night I read the last seven chapters of Kate DiCamillo’s book, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane (the rabbit in question), to my kids. We’ve been reading a couple of chapters a night, a very Norman Rockwell-ish thing to do, if I say so myself. It was all going very well until the formerly beloved authoress, Ms. DiCamillo, who gave us that lovely little mouse Despereaux, and her new, gloriously magical The Magician’s Elephant — Winn Dixie for crying out loud! — turned on us… and killed off a precious little four-year old character, a wonderful, flaxen-haired girl (there’s illustrations, yanno) who loved the rabbit, and her brother, and Jesus, and apple pie, and ponies (you get the picture) so much. The little girl we all fell in love with, just a little. Until she died. Gone. Kaput. Dead as a wedge. Buried. Worm food.
The tears started then. I kept reading, thinking surely this must have a happier ending. Surely, Kate wouldn’t do this to us! My children kept sobbing, my six-year old asking “Why, Mommy” Why did she die? Can’t she come back alive?” — and I never wanted more than to race down to my computer and revise a book — and I kept reading to find the happy ending, realizing as the pages left to read grew fewer and fewer, down to three, two, one… that it was not coming.
And then — no I’m not going to tell you what happened — a small, joyful burst of “happy tears”at the end, but too little. Too late.
An hour and a half of crying, four lullabies, and a couple of stiff drinks later, we were all able to move past it. (Um, don’t worry, The drinks were for the grown-ups.)
Do I recommend this one? Sure. If you want to weep yourself senseless. Just don’t make it your bedtime read-aloud. The writing was, as usual, glorious, so beautiful that at times I wanted to re-read it just to hear the words again. (Sound of Nikki tamping down jealousy here.)
So, Kate is a master at her craft, but she’s really, really mean, too.
I hope someday I can be just as mean. Now, it’s back to my own manuscript,where no one dies (well, not yet), and my MC has just performed inadvertent CPR on a dying man who was choking on a fishing lure.
12/02/2009 at 11:49 pm
Nikki, you are too kind. I am, however, secure enough in my masculinity to come clean in public and admit that I was having a fully-fledged Roxaboxen breakdown during last night’s reading.
12/03/2009 at 1:10 am
Oh no! I mean, I love a good cry, but 🙁
12/03/2009 at 12:51 pm
Definitely put this on your “when your tear ducts need cleaning out” list.
12/03/2009 at 3:35 am
Nikki,
My son’s 2nd grade teacher is reading them this very book. Good thing she does that “share your feelings circle-time” so they can all grieve together. Even though your post is about a sad story, you still make me laugh. No pressure to keep on being hilarious, but I do think I got to meet you at Backspace just so I’d have your humor to brighten the wintry days. 🙂
12/03/2009 at 12:54 pm
Hi, Lori! I’m glad you see the humor in it. Honestly, I was sort of laughing at the whole situation (in an appalled way) while it was going on. I mean, it was like Charlotte’s Web ending on steroids… and without the happy. I wouldn’t ever read this one to a class of 2nd graders, without a group therapist close at hand. Children? Can you say “closure”?
Glad I brighten your day — you do mine, as well!
12/03/2009 at 2:30 pm
LOL. I love your husband’s honesty and the picture of your family crying over the book is funny (bc of the way you told it) in an apalling sort of way. I’m definitely not going near that book while I’m hormonal. I tear up at sweet things in books. I’d ball if there wasn’t happy closure! I have the feeling your brighten many people’s day. I count myself one of those lucky folks.
12/03/2009 at 5:12 pm
Oh, the sweetness of you! Love ya, L.
01/03/2010 at 12:41 am
Kate DiCamillo is a brilliant writer. To be able to show what real love is through an inanimate object is something that I imagine most writer’s are incapable of. I didn’t read it to my grandchildren. I read it for myself to see what all the fuss was about; this, “Kate DiCamillo”, business. I was blown away. (Picture a sixty-year old Marine Vietnam veteran being blown away by words instead of a land mine).
My grandson is nine and I think he will enjoy it when I give my copy to him.
Kate DiCamillo, when asked if she considered herself a children’s book writer, said that, (paraphrasing here) she was a story teller and it really didn’t matter what the age level was that connected to her work.
Hope to read your blog again later. Don’t mean to snippy but I love Kate.
01/03/2010 at 4:26 am
Hi, Pat! Thanks for commenting. You didn’t seem snippy at all… I hope you don’t feel like you needed to defend Kate DiC to me, though — or to anyone! She’s a genius, one of my favorite authors. Maybe my humorous intent in this blog post wasn’t as obvious as I thought.
Have you read The Magician’s Elephant? Glorious, like reading a Garcia Marquez book for little people. I got a signed copy;-)
Happy New Year!