Children 's literature shows new blends of fantasy, facts and fun
In childhood all books of divination, telling us about the future," observes Graham Greene. "And like the fortune teller who sees a long journey in the cards or death by water, they influence the future."
More than children know, their books alter perceptions of the natural and moral worlds.
More than adults acknowledge, those perceptions travel past youth to maturity and age.
That is reason enough to shun most of the ostentatious or shallow works that are beginning to decorate the retail shelves. Still, this and every year, a few volumes speak in the future indicative:
At first glance. The Rainbow Goblins (Thames & Hudson: $24.95), by Ul de Rico, seems to be a cocoa-table book.
Look again. The 13½-in. by 16½-in. size is justified: De Rico's monumental landscapes suggest Leonardo, and his tale is reminiscent of the Grimm brothers. Title roles are played by a group of grouchy little creatures who must be distantly related to black holes: they eat light and color for breakfast. The goblins' quarry is the biggest meal of them all, the rainbow. Their enemies turn out to be every flower and animal on earth. Against those odds, only two species can possibly prevail: the writer and the reader.
A new Dr. Seuss book used to be seasonal, like baseball or oranges. No longer. Theodore Geisel is 74, and his production has slowed. Happily, his screwball has lost none of its velocity. I Can Read with My Eyes Shut!
(Beginner Books; $3.50) again features "the Cat in the Hat," a feline who speaks in the universal language of childhood, whimsy: "You'll learn about Jake the Pillow Snake, and all about Foo-Foo the Snoo." Here, as in more than 30 previous books, the doctor proves to be an eye and ear specialist. His deceptively simple jingle is designed to be heard and inspected repeatedly until the rhythms awaken children to the delights of rhyme and the rewards of literacy.
"Who are you'?" "Me? I'm a lunatic," said the butterfly hunter. "Oh. Then probably you wouldn't know the way to Nocknagel Road." But the lepidopterist does, and eventually the searcher lands where he belongs, in the arms of a beautiful poodle. Which is all right: the hero is fond of putting on the dog. In Tiffky Doofky (Farrar. Straus & Giroux; $7.95), William Steig shows why his juvenile following equals the Pied Piper's, and how four decades as a New Yorker cartoonist have taught him exactly where and how to pull his punch lines.
The skies may be friendly, and the fares lower, but no jet can compete with the fascination of rolling stock on gleaming rails. With this in mind. Donald Crews has used an artist's airbrush and a designer's eye to link up his unique Freight Train (Greenwillow/Morrow; $6.95). The text is as unadorned as a coal car, but the pictures have a purity and force that Amtrak would do well to emulate.