What is it about gorgeous black horses that draw men in, set their imaginations on fire, and steal a bit of their hearts? As a child, I knew that horses were regal creatures. Because they are gorgeous, capable of intelligence, posses affection, and have a certain nobility, I was always smitten with horses. Nearly all horses have something to recommend them, even Seabiscuit with his knobby knees, too-big head, and short legs was a hero. Black Arabians, however, are the stuff that dreams are made of.
I grew up watching Ben-Hur and thinking that Judah’s white horses were a disappointment. In both the book and the movie, they are described as being near goddesses. And yet, their imperfectly white coats and grey-peach colored noses always seemed a bit unimpressive to me. Instead, I dreamed of gorgeous dark colored Arabians. Tall, strong, fast, and midnight-colored coats seemed, to me, to be God’s perfect expression of the horse. The standard by which all other horses would be judged.
Strangely, my childhood was devoid of horse books. I knew that Black Beauty existed, but I never read it. I think that we had an abridged copy in my family library, but I didn’t know that authors could describe horses well enough to rival the beauty that movies could show. My love of horses came from movies, I think. T.V. series’ and movies like “Ivanhoe,” “How the West Was Won,” “The Irish R.M.,” and “Horse Masters” had me dreaming of falling in love with my own magnificent steed.
The Black Stallion by Walter Farley has to be one of the most famous horse books ever written. And yet, this bibliophile, had never read it until a month ago. I can say with all honesty, that I was missing out. I am sad that I did not have this beautiful book in my vernacular and imagination many, many years ago. Thanks to my book club, I am catching up on all of the worthy books I missed out on. We are chasing our own classics education, one book at a time.
The Black Stallion is a triumphant and marvelous story. A young boy, Alec, is on a transatlantic steamer preparing for his return journey from visiting his uncle in India. His parents are waiting for him in New York and he is making this journey alone. As he contemplates the journey, he studies a beautiful pocket knife that his uncle gave to him before he left. Young readers, boys especially, will find it hard not to be intrigued immediately. Well-read readers will quickly guess that that pocket knife will not only prove to be essential but also representative of some central theme.
In case the prospect of following a boy through an independent sea voyage from exotic India isn’t enough to arrest the attention of the reader, Farley invades the scene with a tempestuous and exquisite black stallion who is being put aboard the boat. Fierce and powerful, this force of nature is not coming willingly. His mighty legs kick while his head thrashes and he destroys nearly everything in his path. Clearly this beast was captured from the wild and he has no intention of “settling into” captivity. All on board give the horse wide berth. All, that is, except Alec. Alec is enchanted by The Black. Without much than a hint of success, Alec tries to tempt The Black into friendship with sugar cubes. The horse is not friendly, but he is not too opposed to Alec’s presence near his stall.
In the first chapter, we have a fairly perfect opening to what promises to become a story about a boy and his horse. All of that is put into question in chapter two, however, when a storm causes the ship to wreck. Lost at sea, Alec feels the whip of a rope and grabs hold of what is, in fact, part of the horse’s bridle. Together, the pair swim all night until the horse scents land and drags Alec onto the shore of a deserted island.
Reminiscent of Kipling’s romantic and alluring style, Farley delights us with several chapters of survivalist and boy-tames-the-wild-beast narrative. The writing is poetic and musical. The details are fascinating and imaginative. A little bit Swiss Family Robinson and a little Ralph Moody, these chapters detail twenty days of creative survival.
When Alec and The Black are rescued, they make the long sea voyage to New York via Rio de Janeiro. Along the way, we watch the friendship between Alec and this untamed wild horse grow. Despite their growing love for each other, The Black remains terrifyingly wild when interacting with anyone or anything else. Alec must call on all of his own intelligence, courage, and patience to whittle away at The Black’s skittishness and break the horse’s wildness.
When Alec and The Black disembark in New York, we meet Alec’s parents. Farley does a beautiful job sketching these characters. He does not give us much detail about them, but what he does draw feels quite authentic and renders them noble in their own way. They love this son whom they thought that they had lost. They want to support him. They are anxious about the wildness of The Black. They are deeply respectful of the experience their son has survived and they seek to honor his crisis-honed maturity.
Once Alec is resettled into “normal” life and The Black has moved into the stables of a neighbor, the story shifts gears and becomes something akin to Come On, Seabiscuit. I won’t give any details but, suffice to say, Farley built The Black to be a great race horse.
All of my children loved this book. My youngest (6) wants to be a cowboy when he grows up and he could not get enough of The Black. My middle child (7) loves good writing and enjoyed the adventure of it all. My oldest (9) is all boy and loved everything about Alec. As a parent, I loved that Alec is worth emulating. He loves and respects his parents. He is resourceful, courageous, and loyal. He is a willing student in the hands of an excellent old mentor. And, Alec is principled.
The copy we have is illustrated by Keith Ward and it is magical. The audible narration is expertly done. The movie… well, let’s not talk about that disaster except to say that it is not The Black Stallion, it is something else with the same name and a few of the same characters.
This is a book which more than delivers on its reputation. And, delightfully, this is the first book of a series! I haven’t read the others and suspect that they aren’t quite as good, but Farley has earned my respect and I think that any book he wrote probably has some merit.
I have been packing around a paperback copy of Charlie the Lonesome Cougar for almost 50 years now. The title is from a Disney movie that came out in 1967. I may have watched the movie on a Sunday evening “Wonderful World of Disney.” Perhaps at a drive-in theater! In 1968, Scholastic Books published a book based on the screenplay. I loved getting those Scholastic book orders every month or so, and I loved books about animals. The book is only 78 pages long. I probably paid a precious quarter for it.
When the book came to mind recently, I wondered if I should risk ruining it for myself by reading it again. My desire to know whether it is good stuff or junk was stronger than my wish to let the book and movie remain pleasant memories. My conclusion about the book is that it’s sweet and wholesome. The story is light with plenty of humor. Animal-loving children can enjoy imagining having a cougar for a pet. Adults will be aware that that can come to no good, but will fall in love with Charlie anyway.
Jess is a young man who works for a lumber company in the Pacific Northwest. One day, while out marking trees in the woods, he discovers a tiny cougar kitten that has somehow been abandoned outside the den. The baby’s eyes aren’t even open yet. Who could leave the helpless kitty there to starve?
Mark Van Cleefe, the author who converted the screenplay to book form, writes some endearing descriptions of the kitten learning about his world. Everything is new to Charlie, the cougar. A blowing leaf crumbles under his paw, a fuzzy dandelion makes him sneeze. If he hadn’t tumbled down the hill when coming face-to-face with a growling badger, that encounter could have ended badly. When he starts a game of tag with a squirrel, he gets himself stuck in a tree and Jess has to rescue him. Van Cleefe also periodically reports on Charlie’s age and growth so we get a picture of how quickly he grows into a huge cat. At two years old he is 7 feet long and weighs over 160 pounds. Charlie is no longer a housecat.
The best parts of the story are when Charlie roams in the wild. Charlie’s interactions with the lumber men have more of a feel of set-ups for short, funny, or heart-racing scenes that build toward the inevitable parting of the man and the wild animal. When Charlie accidentally wanders off into the wilderness, we see him face the challenge of surviving on his own. He has to become a wild cougar rather than a pet that takes his daily food for granted. We see how much of the life of a wild animal is taken up with self-defense and finding food. For children who may not yet be interested in studying animals, I think his encounters with other creatures could open a door of investigation. With great interest, Charlie watches as a bear catches fish. He doesn’t learn how to fish for himself, but he becomes adept at stealing fish from the bear. Then the bear moves on and Charlie is on his own again.
The lumber company Jess works for floats logs down the river to the mill. A floating bunkhouse and kitchen raft follow. Charlie accidentally sets the kitchen raft free of its mooring with Jess asleep inside. The raft drifts into a log jam where the men have just lit a fuse for the dynamite set to break up the jam. Charlie rides a log down the river, disembarks onto the log jam, and picks up the dynamite, attracted to it by the long “string” attached. Will he respond in time to Jess’s hollering for him to drop it? Of course he will. It’s Disney. Everything is going to be fine. But chaos and much damage will ensue.
It is the company manager who finally tells Jess that he will have to stop bringing Charlie to work. So, Jess has to cage his cat. One night Charlie scents another cat, a female. He escapes, goes for a romp, can’t find his way home, and spends the winter learning to fend for himself in the wild. When he finds his way back to the lumber camp the next spring, there is more chaos in the camp and everyone thinks Charlie has gone bad. Jess shows up just as the manager is about to shoot the cornered cat. I remember this scene being very intense when I was a child, but it isn’t drawn out too long, and it is very satisfying when Charlie remembers Jess and lets himself be led out of danger.
The next day, Jess takes Charlie to a wildlife refuge where he sets the cat free to live happily ever after. Charlie meets up with his girlfriend and they amble off into the sunset. The scenario will sound familiar to lovers of such stories as Gentle Ben and Rascal. Though the pet will be missed for a long time, the wild animal really will be happier in the wild.
I was concerned that the movie I loved as a child would seem silly now; a string of slapstick situations with a giant cat living out of his natural element. It was not. The scenes of confrontation between cat and man’s world might seem a bit contrived to movie-savvy adults, but it turns out that most of the time is spent showing Charlie in the wild. The thin plot almost seems more of an excuse to follow a cougar around with a camera than a real attempt to show what life would be like with a gigantic housecat. Animal experts may find plenty of diversions from the realm of possibility, but I find the nature scenes wholesome and lovely.
There is an extended scene near the beginning where Charlie has wandered off to survey his neighborhood. He encounters a raccoon cub, a fox kit, and a young pine marten. Then he plays with a bear cub until the sow has to rescue Charlie and her cub from a male bear. Mama wins the fight with the male when Charlie and the cub break the tree branch from which they’ve been watching the battle and land on the male bear’s head. It’s a bit silly, but mostly fun, and the scene with Charlie and the cub napping together in a hollow log is darling.
Charlie’s foray into the wild after becoming lost in the wilderness is a large chunk of the movie. It is more like one of Disney’s nature films than a regular movie. Charlie and the female cougar romp and slide in the snow. Charlie roams through some stunning scenery. As Charlie has never had to hunt for food, he has to learn by watching other animals. When the female cougar catches a rabbit, he expects her to share. She does not. The rabbit killing is done off scene, as is the killing of a deer later, once Charlie becomes an accomplished hunter.
My dad and his dad were loggers in Oregon, so I enjoyed watching the lumber company prepare for the spring log drive down the river. They are shown breaking up log jams, the narrator explains how the cookhouse raft and bunkhouse raft (wanigans) follow the lumberjacks, and there is a short birling competition which Charlie joins. When Charlie is chased by a bounty hunter with his dogs, Charlie escapes by doing a log-riding trick from his kittenhood, this time down a flume.
I am quite pleased that I can recommend this book and the movie for children of any age.
“He looked at his armor, then back at the door. This was a morning that needed a knight.”
I love this book. Really, truly, and sincerely love Henry and the Chalk Dragon. In fact, I am practically jumping out of my skin with excitement as I try to gather my thoughts and explain why Jennifer Trafton’s books is one of the absolute best read-aloud stories we have ever read.
Let’s dispense with any illusion that I’m going to be “professional” in this review. I can’t be. Like Henry’s chalk dragon, my passion is taking on a life of its own and wants to be let loose in the world.
I love this book because it is delightful. It is funny. It is tender. It is oh so wholesome. It is really real. It is wildly imaginative. It is deeply empowering. It is tragically necessary for our times.
Lest you think that any of those expressions are clichés, let me respond by saying that maybe that is totally appropriate to this book. You see, this book has a very old soul. This story is telling truths that are old and considered cliché by our culture, but those which are still absolutely true. Tragically, these truths are stuffed down deep inside of us and we have been trained to scorn them.
“But it was like squishing the white fluffy explosion of popcorn back into the kernel again. The Art was out, and it would not go back in.”
Henry and his classmates are elementary school students in a modern progressive common core type school. Sadly, they are all being trained to value tests, tests, tests, and more tests. Henry, however, is an artistic soul who struggles to keep his imagination “on a leash.” His best friend Oscar is a brainiac scientist and Henry believes that the “new girl” in their class is either a government spy or an alien. Actually, Jade is “anything (she) wants to be except a cliche.” Their classmates are just like the classmates you had as an elementary school student, each character is unique and full of potential. Their teacher, Miss Pimpernel, is a superhero – she just doesn’t remember it. Their principal is an archvillain, except that he isn’t. And all of these characters are coming together to celebrate National Vegetable Week with an Art Show. Except that their “Art” is just a bunch of tidy, uniform, government approved, vegetable displays. La Muncha Elementary School is just an ordinary school with ordinary modern problems… that is until the Chalk Dragon gets loose.
“A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.” – CS Lewis
This story speaks beautifully to all of us. Adults, children, science geeks, poets, chefs, teachers, and painters alike. Henry’s chalk dragon helps all of the characters in the book, and the readers as well, realize that whatever unique passion and gifting God has given to them, it matters. Every soul has an artistic dimension and, with our cooperation, that art becomes a gift that God gives to the world. If we, through our free will, allow our art to break free and run wild in the world, we too can become knights and heroes. And this is a truth we rarely hear today.
“TELL THE TRUTH. Henry was so tired of those orange words. His chivalry was wearing thin.”
Like knights of old, Henry’s experience beautifully illustrates that our passion can be used for good or for ill. It is up to us to use our gifts for that which is just, right, beautiful, merciful, true, and chivalrous. Henry wears a tinfoil rain coat “suit of armor” to school on the day this story takes place. Inside that raincoat Henry has scrawled every knightly principle he has ever heard or read. And, like Henry, we need to regularly consult the code of chivalry. Like Henry, we must have a clearly defined set of principles. Like Henry, we must put on the armor of God and reflect on that which is true every time we have to make a challenging decision.
I said that this is one of the best read alouds we have ever read. I am not exaggerating.
“The dragon stared back at him – up and down, from his sneakers to his shiny helmet. It did not look afraid of Henry. It spread its wings proudly. It stretched its scaly neck as high as it would go. Its mouth widened slowly into a dragonish grin.
How long had Henry been waiting for this moment? Here he was, in his shiny suit of armor, with a sword in his hand. And here was a real live dragon – a dragon who could knock the house down with a few clicks of its tail, who could eat his mother for breakfast, who could send a ball of fire bouncing down the street. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He jabbed his sword into the dragon’s scaly stomach. ‘Take that, you beast! I am Sir Henry Penwhistle, and I will slay you!’”
I follow Jennifer Trafton on Instagram and I have purchased a number of prints from her Etsy shop. She has a very gifted hand, and her art is so vibrant that it fills me hope and joy. But I think that her true genius is in her ability to turn a phrase. Not only does Trafton have beautiful things to say, but she writes them in such a way that they roll off the tongue with maximum impact. A bit like the opera singer who can hit all of the high notes without fail, Trafton’s writing has the listening audience laughing, crying, gasping, and shuddering all in the same chapter. Her stories are meant to be read aloud. They delight and entertain while they teach and nurture the reader.
“Trumpets. Golden trumpets. There they were again, thrilling him to the fingertips. The day was still a story. The knight was still a hero.”
I said that this book has a very old soul. It does. Trafton is unashamed of her love for good and great old books. Her characters are her own, but they are modeled after some of the best characters in some of the best children’s books ever written. And just in case you don’t catch all of the literary references, Trafton has included a page at the back of the book that inventories “Henry’s Book Chest.”
What speaks of her old soul (and that of the book) is that Trafton did not steal these characters from other books and insert them into her story. No. It is obvious that she loved these characters – major and minor ones alike. Literary heroes like Eustace Scrubb, Ralph and his motorcycle, Sir Percy Blakeney, Harold and his purple crayon, and many others must have become part of her own story. And these brilliant characters take on a new and noble life in Henry’s story. What is particularly impressive is how insightful Trafton is about her audience and the characters that she created who would speak to every kind of reader. With seeming effortlessness, even the video game kid is given a literary hero worthy of the story. It would seem that Trafton is capable of seeing the genius in any child, because she has seen it in so many inspired characters throughout literature.
I said that this book is for all of us. It is. I am convinced that every reader will find himself in this story somewhere. And, because of Trafton’s loving touch, none of us will be ashamed to see our literary alter ego grapple with our real insecurities, hopes, and dreams.
“He and the world had a deal: he would keep away from its silly chatter and its honking horns, its math equations and its shopping malls, its confusing rules and its laughing faces. And in return, the world would keep out of his bedroom. For in this room, behind this door, lay a deeper magic and a wilder story than the world had ever seen. Or ever would see – as long as the door stayed shut.”
Henry is an artist. He doesn’t think he has any great gift, but he does. He loves to draw, paint, and color. Henry struggles to keep all of the wildly imaginative shapes inside of him from coming out. We all know that kid. The kid whose math test has few correct answers but margins full of doodles. The kid who thinks that 4 + 2 = orange. That kid is Henry. And Henry is the hero of the story. Well, one of many heroes anyway.
“That’s why Oscar was Henry’s friend. He asked the right questions. Not ‘Are you crazy?’ Not ‘How can a dragon fit in your lunchbox, stupid?’ But ‘How many teeth does it have?’”
Oscar, Henry’s best friend, is a science-loving brainiac with a pet octagon. Oscar’s math tests are always correct. “A pet octagon.” I know, it sounds silly. And it is. But it isn’t. This creative choice is just one of many which speaks to the harmony that must exist between the the Arts, the Sciences, and Language. Even a science kid has to have a wild imagination.
“She was standing on the counter, her hands clenched at her sides. Her face glistened as she sent poetry flying at the dragon. She was fighting the battle with her words.”
Jade is a poet. And a heroine. Her words resound like trumpets in Henry’s soul and push him forward when his courage fails. Her love of story and song give her unique insight into the problems at hand and, ultimately, show Henry the way forward. (Note: Wingfeather Saga fans will appreciate this everyday Leeli.)
“Yet in spite of all those smiles, looking at her often made him sad, and this was the reason: she had once been a superhero, but she had forgotten. Such things do happen. Henry knew there was a superhero hidden under her skin, because sometimes she could see Louie playing a video game behind his notebook without even looking up from her desk, and she could send a stapler rattling so fast across a bulletin board that her fist became a pale pink blur, and she could recite all of the state capitals in alphabetical order and not stumble once over Des Moines. And of course, most importantly, she could change her face into all sorts of new shapes just by putting on her different smiles. What other glorious things must she be capable of? What had happened to make her forget?”
Henry truly loves his teacher and sees in her an adult who is hiding from her passion. From an early age, the world has told her that her art does not have value. But Henry believes in her with a conviction that belongs to the young and pure of heart. I love that Jennifer Trafton is speaking to the adult readers through the character of Miss Pimpernel. How many of us stopped drawing in middle school because we realized that our art was no good? How many of us realized, through our progressive education, that our passion had to be subjugated to the needs of the real world? How many of us, as adults, wish that someone had encouraged our passion when we were children rather than criticizing or squashing it? How many of us spent Thursday nights studying for spelling and math tests on Friday, wondering why we were wasting our time because we knew that we simply weren’t good enough anyway? Many of today’s adults can relate to the adults in this book. But Trafton has a special gift for us. Henry wants us to remember. He wants us to remember that we were once superheroes too and that it is not too late for us.
I would be terribly remiss if I did not mention the flawless illustration in this enchanting book. Not only is the illustration full of whimsy and child-like imagination, but it very strategically comes *after* the narrative. I love this! I love that we are given the opportunity to imagine the scene before we turn the page and find the delightful art. I also love that the art is begging to be colored in! (Hat Tip: Laure Hittle on Instagram for making that obvious to me.) My children are all getting Henry in their Easter baskets and I know that they will relish the opportunity to customize their books.
“People are like puzzle pieces. Put together, the shapes make a picture. And a friend is one whose shape fits into your shape – fits perfectly because it is different, opposite, like a key in a lock, or a foot in a shoe.”
As I write this, I am listening to Melodies for the Mended Wood (Joel Clarkson’s musical soundtrack for The Green Ember) and The Wishes of the Fish King Musical Score. This beautiful music is helping me to focus on the heroic themes in Henry and the Chalk Dragon and to reflect on the important work that The Rabbit Room is doing. I am a lover of old books and am usually fairly skeptical of new ones. Sometimes, however, new authors with old souls do something really special. They build on the legacy of the truly great children’s authors. They show a respect for the genius that came before them and they add their humble contribution in the hopes that it makes the world a better place.
C.S. Lewis once said that in writing Narnia, he was hoping to write something out of E. Nesbit. I, and many others, would argue that Lewis showed Nesbit, George MacDonald, G.K. Chesterton, and his other predecessors great respect in his borrowing of their ideas. Lewis built on their legacy in his own unique way.
I am convinced that the authors at The Rabbit Room are continuing in Lewis’ and Shakespeare’s tradition. Every book I have read by a Rabbit Room author is covered in the fingerprints of the literary geniuses who defined their genres. But, like Lewis and Shakespeare, they are not mere borrowers. They jolly well pay back. I have yet to read a Rabbit Room book that has not made its genre richer. More Christ centered. More lovely.
This is a chapter book with a target audience of ages 7-11. The book is over 225 pages long.
On her website, Jennifer Trafton has shared a free pdf with a robust and exciting curriculum guide. Teachers, librarians, and parents alike will find all kinds of fantastic resources for using this book to draw out the very best in their young readers. Find the free guide here.
Special Note to Parents of Special Needs Children:
When reading Henry, I could not help but wonder if Henry was on the autism spectrum. I don’t think that Henry’s quirky personality is supposed to be diagnosed. But I do think that families like mine will appreciate seeing a heroic character who has some of the social challenges that often indicate spectrum issues.
Today I am bawling into my laundry. My son read The Incredible Journey by Shelia Bunford a few weeks ago and begged me to read it. As I am writing this, I am ignoring the stack of notes I have from ten other books which I have read and need to review. I was worried about reading another book that I don’t have time to review, but I could not miss the opportunity to read something that my son was excited about. Given the volume of housework I have to get done, I opted for the Megan Follows audiobook from Audible. (Yes, THAT Megan Follows from Anne of Green Gables. She does audiobooks? Who knew?!) As I cleaned out closets in preparation for warmer weather clothing this weekend, I cried over the beauty of this story.
If ever a story was more aptly named than this one, I am not aware of it. To steal from Bunford, this story was incredible. A number of animal stories have some hefty sadness in them, and I respect why that it is. This one, however, plays much more in the camps of perseverance, loyalty, healthy fear, and triumph. It is a glorious story of friendship and adventure. Animal lovers and naturalists will find much to love in Burnford’s storytelling.
When my nine-year-old son was reading this book, he would not come up for air. The story was gripping in places, hilarious in other places, and generally very intriguing. At mealtimes he would pepper the family conversation with tidbits he had learned from The Incredible Journey, like why Siamese cats have a crooked tail – so that they could safeguard the rings of Egyptian princesses who were bathing in the Nile river. The story is written in a friendly voice, it tells of an arduous and dangerous adventure, but it is also chock full of the kind of naturalist facts and legends that so often impress little boys.
When the story opens, Luath (a young labrador retriever), Bodger (an old English bulldog), and Tao (a regal old Siamese cat) think that they have been abandoned by their human companions. Consequently, they embark on a three hundred mile journey across treacherous Northern Ontario in a search for their humans. Their journey is, as the name implies, nothing short of incredible. During the journey, the pets experience some perilous encounters in which they accumulate scars and suffer life-changing injuries. Throughout, the reader experiences some genuine fear for the safety of the animals. While this may be emotionally difficult for a young reader, Burnford’s writing offers us a good amount of solace and helps us to focus on the triumph rather than the hurt. Each challenge renders the animals stronger, more loyal to each other, and more noble. We learn that as the animals persevere through the obstacles, their friendship with each other becomes more central to their individual identity.
While the animals make this remarkable trek, they are helped along the way by kindly humans. Burnford builds this natural charity into the story in a way that is utterly real. It does not feel fabricated or forced in the least. The animals were pets, after all. They understand their role in the company of humans and they enjoy the comforts that human companionship provides. When the journey is still new and the domesticated animals haven’t found their primal hunting instincts yet, they enjoy the campfire and dinner scraps of Indians who take their visit as a good omen for the harvest. When the animals are truly down and out, they veer off of their path to stop at a hospitable farmhouse. When Tao is backed into a corner by a lynx, it is a hunter who saves him. When Luath’s jaw is infected and nearly swollen shut from porcupine quills, it is a gentle old farmer who lovingly treats the sick dog.
In this story, Burnford captures the intrinsic beauty of domesticated animals who are capable of living two kinds of lives: the primal and the companionable. She based this fictional story on her own pets, and her experience with their vivid personalities makes these characters perfectly real.
In 1963, Disney made a marvelous movie out of this book. While the movie producers made minor alterations to the story (presumably to remove some of the animal violence) they captured the spirit of the book. The book and the movie rely on non-verbal interaction between the pets. The use of a narrator gives the story an observer’s perspective. When the animals interact with the humans, we listen in on their dialogue in much the same way that they animals are doing. Watching the movie with my kids, I realized that the book and the movie remind me of the book and the movie versions of How The West Was Won. Perhaps it is a silly comparison, but for me, both had the same general tone – a narrator telling of motivated characters who are embarking on a dangerous westward adventure that would require great fortitude, courage, tenacity, and community building. Also like How The West Was Won, these sweeping North American epics are told by narrators who stand at a distance, and in awe of the central characters.
As I said above, my nine-year-old son read this as part of his daily reading with no preparation. I followed up by reading with my ears via Audible. I decided that the book would be a stretch for my seven year old to read independently and a little too scary for my six-year-old to listen to via audiobook. If I had been reading this one aloud, I think that my littlest guy would have been just fine. Our reading stack is just too tall right now for us to sneak this in. So, instead of waiting to read the book, I decided to show the movie on a sick day. I am really glad I did! The movie producers opted to reduce some of the animal violence and they chose to film the scary parts in bright daylight – making them less scary. The movie producers also did such a lovely job filming the human vignettes, that no viewer was permitted to be in doubt of the ultimate happy resolve of the story. It was as if those human characters were serving as cheerleaders, rooting for the animals and promising us that Burnford wasn’t going to let them come to permanent harm. In this way, I can now give the audiobook to my six and seven-year-olds and know that they will enjoy it without fear. They will still have to grapple with the challenges that the animals undergo, but they will not be in doubt of the outcome. That reassurance will help them to love the story and appreciate the heroic struggle of Luath, Bodger, and Tao.
“According to Uncle Al the Princeton area is filled with all sorts of research centers. I didn’t know that the big companies had separate buildings and places where their scientists developed new products, but apparently they do. I guess that’s an example of free enterprise, and I am going to learn more about these research places in order to tell my class about them.”
And that is exactly what Henry Reed did.
In 1958, Keith Robertson created a quirky, smart, friendly, respectful, and inquisitive character named Henry Reed. Henry and his neighbor friend Midge are the thirteen-year-old central characters in a 5-book series. Henry Reed, Inc. is the first book and it is one of the best of its kind that we have read. Everything that we have loved about Homer Price, Danny Dunn, Good Old Archibald, and Alvin Fernald is present in Henry Reed, Inc.. The scrapes that Henry and Midge get into are side-splittingly funny. The intellectual curiosity of Henry and Midge is wonderfully inspiring to my science-minded kids. The writing is complex and sound while remaining boyish. The characters hold very traditional values. The story arc is a compilation of delightful vignettes. Like the other books I mentioned, this one is wonderful for read-aloud, and would be excellent for helping a young reader develop confidence and stamina.
“This is a journal, not a diary. Diaries are kept by girls and tell about about their dates and what they think of their different boyfriends. My mother says that men deep diaries too, that the most famous diary in the world was kept a long time ago by an Englishman named Pepys. That may be so, but when I read about pirates and explorers and sea captains they always kept journals, so this is going to be a journal. It is going to be a record of what happens to me this summer in New Jersey.”
Henry is the son of foreign diplomats. He lives in Europe and has spent very little of his life in the United States. The story is told entirely through journal entries that Henry keeps for a class project. Henry is spending the summer with his Aunt and Uncle in Grover’s Corner right outside of Princeton, New Jersey. The teacher at Henry’s Italian school asks Henry to study American free enterprise and report back to his class when he returns in the fall. Naturally inquisitive, Henry spends the summer learning the art of free enterprise through a research and development firm that he and Midge develop.
Parents of boys and girls will find much to love in this book. Henry’s uncle is quick to point out that his sister, Henry’s mother, was a budding naturalist and that Henry’s love for animals, nature, and science come from his mother. It is very clear that Henry’s parents, and Henry’s aunt and uncle, are all very intelligent and very curious people. This gives the story a really beautiful intellectual quality to it. I found it particularly satisfying that the themes throughout emphasized a love of ideas, a love of nature, and a love of scientific experimentation.
It becomes very clear that Grover’s Corner is a bedroom community for Princeton University professors and scientists. This gives the story a really neat setting. Nestled into farm country, populated by free thinkers, and maintained with traditional values, Grover’s Corner seems to be an ideal place to turn a boy and his friend loose for the summer so they can explore their world, test their theories, and practice a little enterprise.
Robertson understands boys. Presumably because he was one. But more than that. His story celebrates the boyishness of boys. As a mom, I found myself cringing while my boys were rejoicing! I will never look at a wasp’s nest the same way again!
It is early March in NE Wisconsin as I write this. There is snow on the ground and the trees are still bare. Nearly two months after having read Henry Reed, Inc., my kids and I were on a nature walk yesterday and discovered a large paper wasp nest. I hate those things. Almost instantly, all of us cried out, “Do you remember when in Henry Reed….” What a joy! Now when we see a nest like that, we will always think of a construction truck knocking the power out in an entire neighborhood. I will let you read the story to get the details for yourself.
Illustrated by Robert McCloskey, the sketches are dynamic. They capture the spirit of the book perfectly. I thought I loved McCloskey’s work in Homer Price but it pales in comparison to Henry Reed. These pictures tease us into laughing before we have read the punchline. What a great way to encourage a young reader who is trying to learn how to read better and faster!
One small word of warning. There is one scene of mildly questionable decision-making on the part of Henry and his aunt. When I read it, I was worried that there would be more and that it would spoil the book. I do wish that scene could have been resolved without a lie. I am very glad, however, that that was a one-time occurrence and nothing came of it.
This is a series that I would love to own in hardbound. I believe that you can buy all of the books in paperback reprints, but the hardcover books are more substantial in size.
For months I have wanted to read and review as many “little girl” books as possible because our book club is always asking for more recommendations in this vein. Being a perfectionist, I wanted to wait to publish something until it was “complete”. I am beginning to fear that that project will never get off of the ground because I will always be waiting for “enough” time to get into it.
As an interim solution, I am going to list my favorite “little girl” series in this post. I am focusing on those stories which are spread out over more than one volume, have traditional values, are either timeless or pre-modern, celebrate the season in life before the “little girl” comes of age, and is written in a particularly charming voice. As I am able to critically read all of the books in each series, I will review them and update this article with links to those reviews.
Please don’t take these age recommendations too seriously. They are just very general guides.
You know the old adage not to judge a book by its cover? Never was it more true than in the case of Freddy the Detective. I happen to own this book is several different covers. Not one of them properly recommends the story inside. In fact, prior to getting a really excellent recommendation on the book, I had no intention of ever reading it. Freddy just seemed dumb.
Last year I saw Freddy get recommended in our book club group again and again by really great readers. I kept wondering why. In particular, one of my favorite book/homeschool bloggers was expressing love for Freddy. I realized that there simply must be something between those pages that was compelling. I set it aside for a lazy winter day.
After Christmas this year, my kids and I needed something light and delightful. I reached for Freddy on a whim and was laughing within paragraphs. Written in 1932, Freddy has fairly sophisticated language, wholesome traditional values, a rich plot, and just enough whimsy to be worthy read-aloud material.
Without realizing it, we had walked into the middle of a series. Freddy the Pig is the central character in a series of 26 children’s books written between 1927-1958 by Walter R. Brooks. Freddy the Detective is the third book in the series. While it was obvious to us that other books must have come before Freddy the Detective, Brooks does not assume that readers have read them. So, while having read those books may have helped us get to know the characters more quickly, we did not feel as though there was a gaping hole in our understanding.
Brooks makes a really interesting choice about the animal and human relationships. He furnishes his animal characters with keen intelligence, the ability to read, varied means of communication with humans (except speech), and self-government. The animals have a very complex and exciting barnyard social structure. They have an interesting relationship with Farmer Bean and his wife. They consider themselves (and apparently the farmer considers them) employees of the farm. Each animal has a role to play but they also have a lot of interplay with the humans. For example, the animals are welcome to move in and about the farmhouse during the day. That said, the animals cannot speak human words. Even though they can read and understand English, they cannot speak it. When they need to communicate with the humans, they have to be extremely creative. Brooks accomplishes this in entertaining ways.
We read this book as a read aloud. That said, we had several copies of it from the library book sale. And so, as I was finishing the second chapter on the second night, my nine-year-old was laughing before the jokes. I looked at him questioningly. “Mom! I couldn’t help it. I have a copy in my bed and I read ahead. Freddy is trying to solve one mystery but he ends up solving a couple of others first. It is so funny. I couldn’t stop reading it.” That was all that his seven-year-old sister needed to hear. She smuggled a copy into her bed and also read ahead. Regardless of how much they read ahead (or re-read for enjoyment), they insisted on me reading at our regular pace because they enjoyed hearing it so much. I would say that that was a read aloud win for us!