"The Soul of Little Golden Books"

 One of the things I love about Goodwill Buy the Pound is the bins full of books. I found this book recently, and for some reason, the face of the girl on the cover looked familiar. I couldn't quite place it, but obviously I had to find out, so I put the book in my pile.

A few days later when I had some time, I did a quick Google on the illustrator and realized that she hadf illustrated a number of the Little Golden Books, including one I specifically remembered from my childhood: We Like Kindergarten.

I don't have my copy anymore, but I immediately found one online and bought it, as well as a few of her other Golden books.

 I did have Baby's Christmas on my shelf so I pulled that down to look at it.

 Wilkin's style of illustration is like a romanticized realism; her children have apple cheeks, bright eyes cupid-bow mouths and wispy hair.

 

 Eloise Wilkin is also a Rochester, NY native! I had no idea but I was glad to find that out. She was born in Rochester, NY in 1904. She moved to NYC at the age of two, but spent many summers with relatives in Western New York, which was the inspiration for her idyllic pictures of family life.

  

She graduated from the Rochester Athaneum and Mechanics Institute, which is now the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), in 1923.

She opened an art studio in Rochester with a friend, but after struggling to find work she returned to NYC.

Over the course of her life, she illustrated a number of Golden books, and would re-do illustrations to reflect shifts in societal and family values. For example, her 1954 cover illustration for "The New Baby" shows a baby sleeping on its tummy, but she changed it for 1975 because of the increasing awareness of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Similarly, the 1956 book My Little Golden Book about God only depicts white children,  but she re-did several illustrations for the 1974 edition to be more inclusive.

She also designed several baby dolls for the Vogue and Madame Alexander companies.

 

(Photos of dolls are not mine)

She died in 1987 and is buried in Holy Sepulchre cemetary, which is also where silent film star Louise Brooks is laid to rest. I guess next tie I am visiting home, I'll have to locate it.

Jane Werner Watson, author and editor of hundreds of Golden books, called Wilkin "The Soul of Little Golden Books" and I can definitely see why now; her colored pencil and watercolor illustrations reflect the quiet moments and gentle words adults cherish when they have young children in their laps, looking at books together.

I will leave off with two of my favorite illustrations from my new little collection.

The Unfortunate Consequences of Bleeding on a Tuesday

This YA book came up in my suggestions on Amazon recently, and I was immediately intrigued by it.

                                                                 

It centers on Delia, a teenage girl who is struggling with "part of growing up" as everyone likes to tell her.

They don't see the intense pain that she endures and they don;t know about her desperation to find a doctor who will a) actually believe her and b) find the cause of it.

Every doctor she goes to is dismissive, and only offer platitudes like "It's normal" "It's part of being a woman" "You just aren't used to it yet" "We'll keep an eye on it" etc

Why does being female equal the expectation to endure pain?

We are expected to endure menstruation (which starts younger and younger now), pregnancy, childbirth, perimenopause, menopause and it's just seen as 'normal.'

Don't even get me started on how the medical industry is antiquated when it specifically comes to pregancy and childbirth (I don't mean technology- I mean the mindset)

Not long ago, there was a big trend on TikTok and Instagram about women who had IUD procedures, and they were given the advice to "take some Tylenol" (or similar) and it was mind boggling to read the sheer amount of comments confirming that it's widespread and well-known.

We like to say that women's health is important, and there are all sorts of advances in technology and biochemistry available, and yet almost every female I have ever talked to can come up with at least one example when her pain (physical as well as mental) was ignored, or minimized.

Every teenage girl should read this book. And every teenage boy. And anyone with a daughter. And anyone in the health care industry.

AND (not OR) AND maybe we should just start believing women when they say they are in pain, or something feels wrong.

A humble tribute to Michael Hague

I was very sad to learn recently that my favoritre illustrator, Michael Hague, passed away.

The books we read as children shape our identities in a way that no other reading does; through them we imagine different worlds and meet characters that we come to know as lifelong friends. 

My godmother lives in the same area in Colorado that he did, and she sent me books that were inscribed by him. 

There's something extra special about books that are signed and personalized, because it's as if that book was meant for you, and only you. I had plenty of books when I was a kid, but these always had a special place on my bookshelf.

The book I remember reading a million times is Alphabears, authored by his wife Kathleen Hague and illustrated by him.

The dustjacket is long gone and every time I touch the faded red cover, I am transported back to my little bedroom with the bright blue walls, reading it to my brother, or to a friend, or just by myself.

The other book I read very often was East of the Sun, West of the Moon. It's a Norweigan fairytale and it features a clever heroine who rescues a prince, who has been trapped in a different bodily form by an evil troll. It always kind of reminded me of Beauty and the Beast, and you can see from the tears around the dustjacket that this copy was used quite a bit.

Perhaps my favorite book illustrated by Michael Hague is The Velveteen Rabbit. I knew his illustrations before I ever saw the original ones by William Nicholson. This story is one that has influenced my personality and life and career more than most, and I grew up 100% believing that toys carry the memories of the children who have loved them. (And of course, the Toy Story movies have only reaffirmed that whimsical notion.) The book is my childhood copy, and the framed picture is one that I sent to him and asked him to sign when I was pregnant, and it hung in John's nursery for years.

We visited my godmother in Colorado back in 2009 and it was a wonderful coincidence that he was doing a signing at a bookstore for his newest book at the time, Little Bittie Mousie. I bought a copy of that book for myself, as well as one for my niece, who was only a baby at the time.

It was a highlight of our trip, and I am so grateful that I got to meet him in person; we often do not get the chance to meet the people who create the things we love so much.

Rest in peace, Michael Hague.

Thank you for seeing so much beauty in the world, and sharing it with the rest of us through your books.

RIP, The Extreme

 We recently said goodbye to our red pickup truck. Vehicles are machines, but they become part of our identity, and they come to represent chapters of our lives.

The truck was named after Bill Pullman's character's nickname in the 1996 Twister. Twister is one of our favorite movies to watch as a family, and we even drove this truck to the Twister museum in Wakita, Oklahoma.

I have wonderful memories of our truck.

We brought our dog Elza home in it.

We bought our dog Bandit home in it.

We brought home several gigantic dollhouses in it (Gatsby's mansion, the Addams Family estate and the Grand Union Hotel). 

And I drove it through the Arizona desert on our way to the Grand Canyon, listening to A Horse with No Name by America.

Roadtrips galore, lots of Facebook Marketplace pick-ups, and plenty of rides for our dogs.

Cocoa especially loved riding in the truck.

I can only hope our new vehicle brings us as many wonderful memories.

Dragonwyck

 I guess I've been in a Gothic mood lately, with the 1949 version of The Secret Garden and then Frankenstein because I just finished watching Dragonwyck (1946), starring Gene Tierney and the inimitable Vincent Price. It's based on a novel by Anya Seton which I have not read, but I'm interested in reading it now.

The story centers on a  young woman named Miranda, who lives on a simple farm in Connecticut with her God-fearing parents and sister. One day the family receives a letter from a distant cousin-by-marriage, inviting the family to send one of the daughters to New York, to be a governess and companion to their child (reminiscent of Jane Eyre). Miranda convinces her parents to let her go, and she meets her distant relative Nicholas Van Ryn, who is descended from the original Dutch settlers of the Hudson Valley. He brings her to his huge, castle-like estate named Dragonwyck, where she is enamored by the luxurious appointments, many servants and high-society parties.

But of course, there is mystery and deception lurking beneath the stylish ballgowns and antique tapestries. When she arrives, the housekeeper observes to her "You like being waited on.  . .you like peaches out of season.  .  .you like the feel of silk sheets against your young body.  .  .but one day you will wish with all your heart you'd never come to Dragonwyck."

She comes to realize that the Van Ryn family is loveless and focused on their outward appearance to society, and Nicholas has other intentions towards her.

He resents his wife because she was unable to bear him a son, and he resents his daughter Catrine simply because she is not a son. Catrine is agreeable with Miranda, but admits there is no love between her and her parents.

Of course, no Gothic romance/drama would be complete without a couple deaths, an ill-timed mariage proposal and arguments about God versus the arrogance of man.

Overall, I enjoyed the film, and you really can't go wrong when it comes to Vincent Price.

Tomi: a Childhood Under the Nazis

 I just finished reading Tomi: A Childhood Under the Nazis last night. 

I've been kind of on a Tomi Ungerer kick the last couple months, ever since one of the teachers requested his book The Three Robbers. We didn't have it in the collection (or any of his others) so I made it a point to order several of them, and I've been promoting them to the students.

I'm not sure if I knew any of his stories when I was a child; Moon Man kind of looked familiar when I read the book in graduate school (seems like forever ago) but most of them were new to me.

Not only did I fall in love with his illustrations, but I made a point of reading the books first to my niece when she was little, and then to my son when he was little.

What is it about his pictures? Is it the bold colors?

Is it the expressive faces on the characters?

Is it the emotional depth?

(I have always loved this illustration of the lady feeding baby Crictor with a bottle)

Whatever it is, his memoir of his childhood in Alsace (a region of France) clarifies the impact his childhood during the Nazi regime had on his artisitic style and skill. Of course, it also fueled his anti-censorship views (which I was lucky enough to hear him speak about at the Eric Carle museum, many years ago), as well as his picturebook Otto. Otto is a teddy bear that is separated from his Jewish owner; he survives the war and is miraculously reuinted with his owner decades later.

                                            

In Ungerer's memoir, he recounts two incidents of book banning. First, when the Germans moved into Alsace, the kids were given wagons and they were supposed to go from house to house, collecting books that were in French.

After the war, books that were German were rounded up and taken away, as the region struggled to recover and reclaim their heritage, which just proves the point that more than one group of people can be trying to ban books, and the struggle librarians are facing right now is often coming at us from at least two sides, if not more.

The book is a valuable resource for anyone interested in children's literature, or art, or history. It contains an impressive number of original illustrations from young Tomi, including his early attempts to copy well-known characters like Mickey Mouse,  some of his school assignments which document the Nazis' indoctrination of children (one assignment was "Draw a Jew" and another has an inscription from a teacher telling him the swastikas are not big enough) as well as his own cartoons which depict scenes of war, and his own mocking portraits of German soldiers.

Aside from being a study of a time during which people were at their worst, a sense of optimism pervades the text because many people refused to give in and showed their resistance in subtle ways. It inspires some hope that during our current time, when many people are in fear, that the darkness cannot last forever.

Colleen Moore's Fairy Castle

 Over December break, we took a quick trip out to Chicago. We hadn't been there before, and we had tickets to see Phantom of the Opera on stage (my 3rd time, Eric's 2nd time, and John's first time seeing it).

While we were in the city, we had a long list of all the places we wanted to go and see, but the top of mine was the Museum of Industry, and that is because of the incredible dollhouse inside it.

Colleen Moore was an actress in the 20s, who became pretty successful in the silent films of the era. She had the classic flapper look like Clara Bow and Louise Brooks:

She had a lifelong love of dolls and miniatures, so when she started becoming successful, her father suggested that she use some of her newfound money to commission a dollhouse that would be a real work of art. So, she did. She hired architects and master builders to create a medieval style castle.

  

The castle has an art noveau, fairy tale aesthetic, and pays homage to famous stories such as Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, The Wizard of Oz, and more.Indeed, the tiny library inside has real books written by noted authors such as  F Scott Fitzgerald and George Bernard Shaw.

The rooms inside are nothing short of extraordinary! My pictures don't do them justice:

I could have stayed in that room all day, looking at all the details and getting inspired.

My dream is that someday, my Great Gatsby mansion will be on display somewhere, with people marveling at the detail and craftsmanship, and literary influence.

It was also validating to see such an incredible work of art, which is meant to inspire not just imagination, but play, and think that you don't have to outgrow dolls, or toys in general.

I read something recently that was along the lines of "growing up doesn't mean becoming a different person, it's returning to the person you were before societal pressure, limitations and fear shaped your identity."