Over the Hills and Far Away

Very far away is

... where I can read and not be interrupted

... where my two wild boars don't shout and grunt and roar all day

... where my little princess doesn't pout

... where I can swim for hours and not get sunburnt

Celebrating the ‘monster’

TOTS TO TEEN WITH DAPHNE LEE

SHOULD children be seen and not heard? Is it possible without the use of tape or threats?

This week’s featured books are about kids being themselves: little monsters and proud of it, just as their parents should be, too! 

Martin runs away from home because his mother, busy with the new baby, doesn’t answer his question. Perhaps it’s one of many questions that have gone unanswered since the arrival of the baby. “Where is very far away?” is a very important question because “very far away” is where Martin believes somebody will answer all his questions and he will not be ignored.

In writing Where the Wild Things Are (Bodley Head Children’s Books, 32 pages, ISBN: 978-0370007724), Maurice Sendak acknowledged a child’s need to let his hair down and be an uncouth little beastie. Max, in his wolf suit, represents every little boy and girl who has ever thrilled to the thought of going on a rampage.

Children are by no means angels who mind their Ps and Qs, or at least not all the time. They kick and yell and throw stuff, and relish it all, but there’s always a point when they long for their mums and dads, or just a pair of loving arms to snuggle in. Even monsters need love: Max’s mum knows this and Max is assured of her affection when he finds a bowl of porridge (still warm) waiting for him on his return from being king of the wild things.

Very Far Away (Michael Di Capua Books, 56 pages, ISBN: 978-0060297237), also by Sendak, deals with the way many young children act out when there is a new addition to the family. Rejection, jealousy, confusion, anger, are just some of the emotions experienced by a child who, up to the introduction of a tiny sister or brother, has been the apple of his beloved mum’s eye.

Who is this “thing”, intent on taking mummy away from me? I’m told I should love him, but he is not lovable. He cries all the time, he’s smelly, he is in my space! Mum has forgotten I exist. She doesn’t love me anymore. And so on.

Sendak doesn’t spell this out. It’s just there in Martin’s expression as he pulls at his mother’s skirt. That look of desperate uncertainty and fear is conveyed despite the simplicity of Sendak’s illustrations. Martin is uncomplicated, composed of very few lines and not more than three colours, but behind his frown and quivering lip is an avalanche of feeling. The paper he is drawn on is almost swollen with unshed tears. 

Martin packs a suitcase and storms off to find “very far away”. On his way, he meets a horse, a sparrow and a cat, who all want to go “very far away” for various reasons. 

When they get to “very far away” the foursome are certain they’ll be happy forever, and they are very happy ... “for an hour and a half”. None of them live up to the others’ expectations and all leave in a huff – Martin runs all the way home with more questions for mum. I bet there’ll be warm porridge waiting.

Sendak isn’t the only one who understands children. In Monster Hug! (Putnam Juvenile, 40 pages, ISBN: 978-0399246371), David Ezra Stein has two fearsome beasts indulging in typically monster-like behaviour: they flatten cities, eat cars and buildings, growl and yowl and make faces. One red and one blue, rendered in slapdash brush strokes, the monsters romp with wild abandon across the white pages, their faces and gestures so expressive you expect them to bounce out of the book into your lap (mercy!).

Once a monster, always one? When this wild pair’s mums turn up, they become lovable gremlins whose play-date ends in a friendly monster hug: There are different sides to every monster (and child).

Last but not least, meet Solomon, a boy with two belly buttons! As we know, any child who is different believes he is a monster and a freak. Solomon tries to give one of his belly buttons away to a turtle, but the turtle is aware that a belly button will turn it into an anomaly, since turtles have none. You see, while being a monster may be fun, no one really wants to be different. It takes a very famous filmmaker (you’ll recognise him from the illustrations) to convince Solomon that being unusual is a plus.

The Boy With Two Belly Buttons (HarperCollins, 32 pages, ISBN: 978-0061134029) is written by Stephen Dubner, co-author of Freakonomics and illustrated by Christoph Niemann.