tell me a story about me
If you know Else Minarik’s Little Bear (the original series of four linked illustrated stories for small children, not the sequels) you probably think of it as a cute, warm story– certainly that’s what I expected when Jessie brought it home for Nathan, and that’s right as far as it goes. But when I realized that reading it all the way through, to Nathan, made me cry more than once, my interpretive organ got to work: what’s so profound, or so sad, or so happy, about it? Why does it feel as profound as (less mysteriously) The Giving Tree, a book that really is sad (so much so that I think it’s not really for kids), whereas Little Bear is consoling, and happy at last?
If you don’t know Little Bear, this won’t make any sense. If you do, try these hypotheses: in the world of Little Bear and Mother Bear, you can only become what you are: the best coat is your fur, the best planet to visit (the only planet you can visit) the Earth you know. Moreover– as Little Bear learns when he can’t sleep– the only wish that is ever granted to us is the wish for stories; and the only stories we end up hearing, the only stories we understand or want to hear, are stories about ourselves.
Nathan, by the way, loves it: he paid me the great compliment, tonight, of calling me Father Bear.
May 16th, 2009 at 10:05 am
As a fellow Father Bear, teacher and Harvardian who also grew up in D.C., I wanted to let you know about a flawed link to your excellent essay in praise of William Carlos Williams on the poetryfoundation.org’s “Reader’s Guide” main page. Instead of your perspective on “To a Poor Old Woman,” one is clicked through to your upstairs neighbor in the alphabetic column of critiques by name of poet: Craig Teicher’s thoughts on “The Red Wheelbarrow.”
‘Twas serendipity said heads-up led me to your blog. Though my own son now calls me with his very present wishes, the great and unanticipated pleasure of my mid-day Saturday stroll through categories of shared interest deserves a written post of gratitude.
As a busy polymath, I do not bookmark lightly. Few blogs get tagged “must return” and “highly enjoyable”. I look forward to the next time a free moment prompts me to type “hi… enj…” in the Firefox 3.0 Awesome Bar.
Thanks,
Dan
June 21st, 2009 at 4:24 am
Dan, you’ve stumbled upon one of our lesser-known but irreplaceable natural resources: Jessie Bennett, cultural maven extraordinaire.
As for me, I am heartened that someone a few years younger (won’t go into that, here) was touched as deeply and in the same way as I was by the extraordinary Little Bear. That was one of my favorite childhood books, pored over as much for Sendak’s heartbreakingly felt drawings as for the story.
And, I love your hypothesis. It rings true.
As for the Giving Tree, my read on that has always been that people mistake it for a heartfelt, touching story about selfless love and how a mother nurtures her child. I read it as a deeply sarcastic condemnation of the culture of Jewish guilt and martydom that encourages unhealthy sacrifice on the part of the mother and thoughtless, selfish use by the son. But hey, that’s just me.