Friday, May 19, 2006

The Definition of Anal

Me, preparing tearsheets, and trying to match children's literature animal postage stamps with publishers.

new issue of Notes from the Windowsill

The latest issue of Notes from the Windowsill is now available. It includes my final (for the moment) thoughts on So Yesterday, a number of reprints and some reviews previewed in this blog. The cover title will be (as soon as Evan gets around to it) Mary Poppins from A to Z, a book which was very fun to read and even more fun to write about:

Mary Poppins from A to Z by P.L. Travers. Illustrated by Mary
Shepard. 1962; Harcourt, 2006 (0-15-205834-6) $14.00

Available once again, only now Beautifully Colored, this Delectable book features Every one of the Favorite characters from Travers' Greatly loved Mary Poppins series. How fun It is to read about their Jolly adventures, from the Kindly Bird Woman to the Lovely Mary Poppins herself. No One should Pass up this Quirky, Really quite funny Story, Told in twenty-six Unusual Vignettes. What a good idea it was to eXpose it to Young (and old) readers once again. Zounds but I enjoyed it! (4-8)

Poetry Friday

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course
Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for an hour,
And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green stripéd bag,
or a jack-knife,
And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all.

And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails,
And their reticent fur is suddenly all in motion
With fleas that one never knew were there,
Polished and brown, knowing all there is to know,
Trekking off into the living world.
You fetch a shoe-box, but it's much too small, because she won't
curl up now:
So you find a bigger box, and bury her in the yard, and weep.
But you do not wake up a month from then, two months
A year from then, two years, in the middle of the night
And weep, with your knuckles in your mouth, and say Oh, God! Oh, God!
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters,
—mothers and fathers don't die.

And if you have said, "For heaven's sake, must you always
be kissing a person?"
Or, "I do wish to gracious you'd stop tapping on the window
with your thimble!"
Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you're busy having fun,
Is plenty of time to say, "I'm sorry, mother."

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died,
who neither listen nor speak;
Who do not drink their tea, though they always said
Tea was such a comfort.

Run down into the cellar and bring up the last jar of raspberries;
they are not tempted.
Flatter them, ask them what was it they said exactly
That time, to the bishop, or to the overseer, or to Mrs. Mason;
They are not taken in.
Shout at them, get red in the face, rise,
Drag them up out of their chairs by their stiff shoulders and
shake them and yell at them;
They are not startled, they are not even embarrassed; they slide
back into their chairs.

Your tea is cold now.
You drink it standing up,
And leave the house.

Edna St. Vincent Millay