Monday, November 30, 2009

Pip Rejects Hibernation for a Talking Tree in The Christmas Cub

Over the years, I have read dozens of Christmas books, and I have noticed that a few particular types of stories keep popping up again and again. The Little Drummer Boy. A Christmas Carol. A Visit from St. Nicholas. Books about snowmen. Books about a character’s first Christmas, usually focusing on an animal, often one that ought to be hibernating. Fitting right into this last group of stories is The Christmas Cub, a Level 2 Hello Reader! book designed to be read by children from kindergarten to second grade.

Justine Korman Fontes writes this simple story that treads familiar ground as a bear cub named Pip obeys his curiosity instead of his mother’s lethargic instructions to stay in his cave for the winter. What he discovers is a cabin containing a small family much like the Ingalls family in Little House in the Big Woods. Pip observes the people intently while Evergreen, a cheerful talking tree growing outside the cabin, explains to the bear what is going on.

Children’s literature is so full of talking animals that I always accept them without question. But talking trees is another matter. This is not the only Christmas book I’ve read to give a tree a personality, but it’s usually more organic; we get the tree’s feelings, but it doesn’t speak, and there’s maybe just a hint of a smile or a frown in the arrangement of the branches. Here, the tree chatters on amicably and always has a pleasant smile and rosy cheeks. What’s more, that expression is plastered on a smooth green spot toward the top of the tree that makes it look very phony indeed.

There’s also the matter of the bear’s parents, who issue one feeble warning to stay in the cave and then immediately fall asleep, never to be seen again. Sleepy parents are a recurring theme in many books of this type, but Pip’s mom and dad just check out completely. Then there’s the gift that Pip decides to give the tree. It’s a cute idea resulting in a vibrant picture, but it makes no scientific sense whatsoever. Then again, what do I expect from a book with talking trees? Speaking of which, this book credits Pip with the invention of the first Christmas tree, when they had been in use in various places since the 1500s, well before the setting of this story.

While I can’t help being a little weirded out by the beatifically grinning tree, Lucinda McQueen’s illustrations are otherwise fairly endearing. The creatures are about halfway between cartoonish and realistic, with the chipper gray squirrel my favorite of the background animals. I like Fontes’ dedication to her illustrator: “For Lulu, who draws the purr as well as the fur.” McQueen definitely succeeds in bringing across a general feeling of contentment.

The Christmas Cub is fairly cute, and most children in this age group should find it a manageable read. But given the wealth of “first Christmas” books out there, this is hardly the first in the category that I would recommend.

Cow Lovers Should Get a Kick Out of Millie in the Snow

There are many animals that are frequently the subjects of Christmas books. Reindeer. Bears. Mice. Less common are stories that focus on cows. While there are several farm-themed books in which cows appear, there are relatively few in which they play a significant part. One of these is Mille in the Snow, a cute book written and illustrated by Alexander Steffensmeier.

Millie, he tells us, is “not an ordinary cow”. As if to confirm this notion, the first two-page spread, in which the woman who owns Millie milks her, shows us that in the barn there hangs a picture of a cow wearing a Superman costume. No, Millie is not moonlighting as a superhero. But she does have a very important job. She is a mail cow.

The mail carrier she works with is a cheerful fellow with glasses, a bit of stubble and a slightly pudgy build. He’s no ordinary mailman either, as he spends all of his free time carefully crafting gifts for the farmer and her many animal friends. We see how much work he’s gone to in a funny two-page spread that shows him at work on a series of presents. On the bottom of the pages, we’re treated to the imagined reactions of the recipients. The farmer’s is especially amusing.

Steffensmeier doesn’t tell us where this book, a sequel to Millie Waits for the Mail, is set. He hails from Germany, so that seems a likely candidate, though I tend to imagine it being someplace in the northernmost reaches of Minnesota. There’s something very midwestern about these endearing characters, and the thick blanket of snow, along with the mailman’s handiness with a pair of skis, suggests an especially cold winter season.

The writing style is enjoyable, with a few sentences per page in a variety of sizes. While there are some two-page spreads, some pages are broken up comic book-style, adding to a sense of panic when crisis hits and helping to move the story along very quickly. The pictures are full of details both funny and sweet. On the tender side, the mailman has a framed picture of him and Millie on the wall, while he daydreams about the impact a sprig of mistletoe might have upon the farmer.

Much of the humor comes from the antics of the many birds throughout the book. There are chickens in scarves and on skis, three-toed stockings hanging on the line in anticipation of Santa and a pile-up of crows on the telephone wire. Then, of course, there is the conclusion, during which the mailman’s gifts are distributed to the wrong recipients, owing to Millie’s ordeal on her way home from her mail rounds, which jumbled up the packages.

With appealing illustrations and a sweet tone, Millie in the Snow is a funny and charming story that is sure to appeal to cow lovers of all ages at Christmastime.

There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Bell! She Must Have an Iron Constitution...

Progressive songs and stories are popular with children, whether it’s The 12 Days of Christmas or The House That Jack Built. One of the most classic of these tales is the silly There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly. Rather gruesome but nonetheless amusing, it chronicles a succession of ever-larger animals that one very eccentric woman eats before she finds one creature that proves to be too much for her.

Lucille Colandro’s There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Bell! takes that same idea and transfers it to a Christmas situation. Instead of gobbling spiders and dogs, this woman ingests gifts and a sleigh. The only living thing she eats is eight reindeer - but considering that one horse did the traditional little old lady in, that ought to be more than enough to stop her in her tracks!

The original song never did make much sense. Colandro tries to give this old lady more of a purpose in all of her eating, but to me, it only comes across as all the more nonsensical. For one thing, the reindeer are the only objects on her list that would generally be considered edible. Bells, bows and a sack? Not so much. And the sleigh, which is several times her size, is just bizarre. Her innards must be somehow akin to Mary Poppin’s magical carpetbag, with an endless capacity for accommodating objects. But why does she do all this gobbling? Why, so she can spit everything back up so Santa can make his annual rounds!

Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t much like the idea of receiving a present that has spent time on the inside of an old lady. And after such an ordeal, I would think those poor reindeer would be too addled to fly, even though they come prepared with full flight gear. Beyond the absurdity of all that, I find it a little grating that after this succession of very specific Christmas images, the book concludes with a generic “Happy holidays to all!”

Jared Lee’s illustrations are cartoonish but textured, with particular attention paid to the fur on the reindeer and the old lady’s dog. The old lady wears a skirt and striped stockings, and that’s about the only tip-off in the pictures that she is, in fact, female. Her hair is longish too, but it’s very stringy and could easily be a man’s ponytail. There’s nothing very feminine about this odd-looking woman whose appearance puts me in mind of Ernest P. Worrell.

As the book concludes with her in the sleigh with Santa, the thought crosses my mind that perhaps in the skewered thoughts of Colandro and Lee, this is supposed to be Mrs. Claus. I’m more inclined, however, to think of her as simply a trusted friend of Santa. Maybe somebody well-intentioned but with a few screws loose who has been given this task just for the sake of her own self-esteem, not because it makes Santa’s job any easier.

I can remember laughing over the original song when I was little, so I suspect that this book might get some of the same giggles. And at least it’s less morbid. But I have no desire to celebrate this woman’s weird eating habits, and I wouldn’t recommend that anyone else do so either.

Mice Assist a Glorious Goose in The Snow Angel

In the past few years, I have become a big fan of illustrator Jane Chapman, whose sweet paintings have graced the pages of many picture books, including Bear Snores On, Bear Stays Up For Christmas, Bear Wants More, Bear's New Friend, Bear Feels Sick, Mortimer’s Christmas Manger and The Very Snowy Christmas.

Her most frequent collaborator is Karma Wilson, but she has worked with other authors as well. The Snow Angel teams her up with Christine Leeson, who has half a dozen book credits to her name. I hadn’t read her work before, but I want to now that I’ve read this tender tale.

The book is eye-catching right from the start, with the cover page featuring a white goose whose feathers are augmented with glitter. Blue-green sparkles glint throughout the book, adding an extra bit of magic to this endearing story. The goose is the “snow angel,” so described by Sam and Daisy, the pair of mice who discover her injured and separated from her flock. The two mice live with their mother and, after collecting nuts and berries for their Christmas dinner, they opt to play in the swirling snow, which leads them to the goose.

While most of Wilson’s stories are written in verse, Leeson sticks with prose here. The writing is simple but artful as she describes the ways in which the mice offer aid to the poor lost creature. It’s the illustrations that really make an impact here, though. Chapman has a real knack for drawing expressively adorable animals, especially mice. Meanwhile, the “angel” looks truly majestic, especially in one gorgeous two-page spread in which she opens her wings and flies off into the sunset.

This book reminds me a bit of Aesop’s fable of the mouse and the lion. Of course, these mice are never in any danger from the goose, but they certainly do demonstrate to her that little friends may prove great friends indeed. A warm story of hospitality and kindness, The Snow Angel is a fine addition to any Christmas shelf.

Allan Say Brings Christmas to a Small Japanese Family in Tree of Cranes

As someone who has grown up with Christmas as far back as I can remember, it’s easy to take the holiday for granted. But imagine being a little bit older at the time of one’s first Christmas experience. That’s what Allen Say does in Tree of Cranes, a lovely picture book that offers a peek at a cross-cultural Christmas celebration.

The unnamed narrator recounts for us the first Christmas of his life, which occurred in Japan “when I was not yet old enough to wear long pants.” We never learn just who the boy is, because although this is primarily a story about a boy and his mother, and to a much lesser extent his father, neither parents calls the child by name. Indeed, there is a definite distance between child and adults; it seems that Papa is rarely home, while Mama longs for some alone time, though for safety’s sake she forbids the boy to wander to his favorite spot, the neighbor’s pond, where we see him playing in the first of the book’s paintings, and one of the loveliest. There is a luminous quality to the illustrations reflecting the peace that prevails throughout this little family.

The boy is a sweet, albeit overly curious, child. I can’t fault him much for his inquisitiveness because his mother is so tight-lipped. Eventually, she explains to him what she is up to, but before that, she seems to ignore him for long stretches of time, apparently not so much because she wants to surprise him but because she has become so caught up in nostalgia that she scarcely remembers he exists. Her reprobation regarding the pond would probably be unnecessary if she were more attentive to her son. This odd disconnect between parent and child is the one negative in this story, though there is a sense that perhaps this shared Christmas celebration will bring them closer together.

My favorite aspect of the story is the pine tree his mother brings into the house. It’s the boy’s, as his parents planted it when he was born in hopes that he, like the tree, would enjoy a long life. This seems like a beautiful tradition, and it reminds me of The Little Fir Tree, a wonderful Christmas story by Margaret Wise Brown. What is especially neat is the sight of this particular tree, which looks like an oversized bonsai, all covered with paper cranes and shining candles, making it very unusual-looking but thoroughly beautiful. The boy’s longed-for Christmas present and the snowman he builds also are indicative of Japanese culture, with his mother’s California upbringing creating an interesting hybrid.

I don’t know if this book is intended to be autobiographical or is merely a story that Say made up, but in any event, Tree of Cranes is a touching story of two cultures coming together.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Diane Keyes' Spirit of the Snowpeople Is Pleasant But Overly Didactic

Yesterday, I looked out the window to see a stinging blast of snow pelting the ground. The shower was brief, and the flakes melted before the ground could be coated. But it’s a sure sign that winter is on the way, and it may soon be time to go outside and create some snowmen. Or snowwomen and snowchildren. Snowpeople.

In Spirit of the Snowpeople, written by Diane Keyes and illustrated by Helen Stevens, building snowpeople is what the citizens of one idyllic town do best. They lead a simple life during this time when “the world was a gentler place” they are attuned to the rhythms of nature, blissfully surrounded by wildlife, and they present one another with homemade or homegrown gifts.

One day, to relieve boredom and demonstrate their creativity, they begin to sculpt people out of the snow and get to be so good at it that Snowpeople Lake becomes a tourist attraction and people come from far and wide to see the remarkable public art project. The villagers, instead of using this as an opportunity to cash in, are generous to the visitors, distributing clothes to them and being generally extremely hospitable. However, as the statues begin to melt, rumblings of discontent begin. The visitors are displeased. What can be done?

Stevens’ illustrations are pleasant, with a natural-looking tone to them, except when she poses the townsfolks’ snowpeople in improbable positions. The text is fairly simple, with just a sentence or two per page. It’s less of a Christmas story than a general winter story, but of course, snowmen have become easily associated with Christmas. The story is enjoyable enough, but it gets really preachy toward the end as the visitors receive a lecture on the value of helping one another, with a crash course on the water cycle to boot.

Spirit of the Snowpeople has a good message about the importance of working together, but its overly didactic tone makes it a tad dreary, and the villagers’ worshipful attitudes toward nature might rub some the wrong way. An interesting read, but hardly the best snowman story out there.

The Snowpeople Come out to Play in Harriet Zieffert and Mark Jones' Snow Party

Snowpeople are popular subjects of wintertime tales. Sometimes, they just stand where they were created, not doing much of anything. But some authors afford them the opportunity to have a wonderful time, especially when humans aren’t looking. One such author is Harriet Ziefert, who describes a rollicking snowpeople celebration in Snow Party, illustrated by Mark Jones.

The book is written in prose, with a sentence or two per page. The pictures do most of the talking, with two-page spreads that show off soft natural landscapes in which snowmen, snowwomen and snowchildren all bundled up in scarves, hats, cloaks and coats get together for a jamboree to celebrate the winter solstice, which I suppose would be an especially big deal to someone made of snow.

The conditions necessary for such a party are very specific: “When the first snow of the year falls on the first day of winter, we have a snow party.” I can’t imagine that happens too often, so on the rare occasion that it does, the snowpeople are determined to make their event as festive as possible. Among my favorite elements are a sleigh drawn by caribou and a snazzy snowman band, not to mention the gorgeous view of the sunset over the snowy forest.

Most of the credit for this book’s appeal goes to Jones, who enchants readers with his imaginative visions of snowmen munching on snowballs and slices of ice, dancing with willing snowwomen and releasing snowbutterflies into the wind. It’s hard to believe the biographical tidbit that this Switzerland native has never built a snowman, because he certainly has a good feel for them, and he makes it easy to imagine that when a heavy snow blankets the land, it could be hiding traces of mysterious revelries.

Reminiscent of The Snowman and Snowmen at Night, this is a story that may cover familiar territory but does so in an artistic manner. And if I thought that it would attract caribou, I would definitely make sure to have a snowman in my front yard come the first day of winter...

Chaucer's First Winter Is Best When Paired With the Bear

For several years, I worked at Borders Express during the Christmas season, and I was always anxious to see what the annual exclusive Christmas bear would look like. My favorite was 2004’s Booker, which came complete with an adorable pair of Harry Potter-style spectacles. I also loved the polar bear released a couple of years ago, and though I’m not working there this year, I’m tempted to drop by and pick up the panda I spotted there last week. The Borders bear for 2008 had the very fitting name of Chaucer, and his scarf, which was covered with letters, accentuated his ties to literacy. Even more impressively, he had a book all to himself: Chaucer’s First Winter, written by Stephen Krensky and illustrated by Henry Cole.

In the book, Chaucer is a young bear determined not to sleep through winter. The story, written in prose, is a simple one, the basic gist of which has been explored several times before. It particularly reminds me of Froggy’s Best Christmas. A young animal who should be hibernating decides instead to get the most out of winter and packs in as much fun as he can before falling asleep. Chaucer doesn’t have to enjoy the holiday alone; his friends Nugget and Kit, a squirrel and a fox, are happy to join in the festivities, which include building a snowman, sledding and ice skating. Meanwhile, his parents keep a watchful eye to ensure that he doesn’t get into any mischief.

The writing style is pleasant, with such phrases as “glittering rows of icicles, the pine trees dressed in white” complementing the pictures nicely. A bit of conflict arrives in the form of a blizzard, but this just leads to even more coziness as Chaucer and his friends barricade themselves against the icy blast by building a snow fort. The little bear manages to stay awake all through the winter, falling asleep only once spring has arrived, which reminds me of many a sleepover I had back in elementary school - though of course, we stayed up for hours, not weeks!

The plush Chaucer is the best part of this book-and-bear set, and now that there’s a new bear to take his place, getting your hands on the protagonist may be a little tricky. If you can pin the snuggly fellow down, then the book is a fun companion. As a stand-alone book, Chaucer’s First Winter is cute but ultimately unremarkable.

Loren Long's Drummer Boy Perseveres on a Perilous Journey

One of the most beloved stories in the Christmas canon is The Little Drummer Boy, a tale that has spawned many similar stories about those who have little to give but are rewarded for their humble offerings. I tend to place stories under the category of this song, though it wasn’t the first of its kind. An early example is The Clown of God, a centuries-old French tale, and far earlier still is the Biblical account of the widow’s mite. Nonetheless, when I encounter this type of tale, my first thought is “Drummer Boy”.

When I saw the title Drummer Boy, I figured that this picture book by Loren Long was simply a direct adaptation of The Little Drummer Boy. But a glance at the cover revealed that this story would be a little different. The “boy” in question is a toy, a stalwart little toy drummer with a red coat, blue pants, black shoes, a blue and yellow hat, silver buttons, yellow epaulets, a black belt and, of course, a little green and yellow drum. He’s a snazzy-looking toy, and he sounds even better than he looks, or so we are given to understand by the reactions others have to him.

In this tender story, the titular drummer is the beloved possession of a young boy. One day, he is accidentally tossed in the trash and winds up at the garbage dump, the first step in a long journey that will allow him to spread his song all over the city. In some ways, this reminds me of Toy Story, though the drummer handles his predicament with far more grace than Woody.

He’s all alone, but wherever he goes, he earns the respect of strangers who are mesmerized by his music. A rat hears the gentle beat and ceases its snarling. The soft tapping lulls hungry owl chicks to sleep. He plays for audiences big and small, at one point treating the city at large to his march as he stands atop a bell tower. Throughout his entire ordeal, he is content, cheerfully sharing beauty with whoever is willing to listen.

Drummer Boy is the first book that Long wrote, though he previously illustrated others. While the story is wonderfully sweet, it’s the soft acrylic paintings that really capture the imagination, with expansive two-page spreads capturing the beauty of the winter landscape and close-ups on faces transfigured by the drummer boy’s profoundly moving solo. This is not a retelling of that classic song, but Long does not neglect the birth of Christ; the book gently concludes with the drummer performing yet again, this time in a Nativity set.

Drummer Boy isn’t quite the story I expected, but it is thoroughly endearing, one of the most charming Christmas books I’ve encountered in the last couple of years. Invite this little fellow into your home, and I predict that you too will be enchanted.

James Earl Jones Impressively Narrates the Unimpressive Nine Dog Christmas

Over the past week, I’ve been scouring Netflix for Christmas movies and have come up with a few, most of which I’ve never heard of. Last night’s oddball film was a little 2001 animated flick called Nine Dog Christmas. The one mark in the movie’s favor going into it was the presence of James Earl Jones. With him serving as the austere narrator, surely it couldn’t be too bad...

This hour-long Christmas tale has two main threads that converge before long. In one, there’s a group of eight hard-on-their-luck mutts who wind up in the clutches of a nefarious Frenchman named Pierre (Randy Rice), who travels around in a sleigh pulled by his long-suffering dog Frenchie. As he carts them off to try to make a quick buck off of them, the pooches get to know each other. Australian Snowplow (Rice) and Scottish MacGregor (Thomas Garner) have authoritative airs that make them the ragtag gang’s de facto leaders. Among the rest, one is loopy, and two are rapidly falling in love with each other. Each dog has his or her own personality quirks.

Meanwhile, at the North Pole, Santa (Pat Fraley) has run into a problem, though he doesn’t realize it. The reindeer are down with the flu, and the elves scramble to find replacements before the boss finds out. Neurotic head elf Buzz (Scott Hamilton) is particularly distraught, and he enlists the aid of cheerful novice Agnes Anne (Russi Taylor) to find a new team of sled pullers in time. Whose path should they cross but those dogs in Pierre’s clutches? But getting them to Santa and training them for their takeover isn’t as easy as they might think.

I found the animation and voice work in this special to be pretty enjoyable. We hear a variety of different accents: French, Spanish, Scottish Australian. Several actors voice multiple characters, but that is never obvious, as each voice is entirely distinct from the others. Jones makes a fantastic narrator, just as one would expect, and many of the actors lace their vocal performances with humor.

The story, however, is rather weak. Replacing reindeer with dogs doesn’t seem like such a good idea, and why go so far away to recruit? Couldn’t the elves simply round up some moose or polar bears? I would think that anyone living in proximity to the North Pole would be happy to lend Santa a hand. For that matter, if size is so unimportant, the elves could probably pull the sleigh themselves. Then again, they might be just a little bit small for the job. Additionally, the conclusion of the movie, while rather heartwarming, makes little sense, as it involves Santa getting dragged back to the North Pole by a tow truck.

Pierre makes a rather entertaining villain who seems modeled after McLeach, the poacher from The Rescuers Down Under, right down to the disgruntled animal sidekick and our last shot of him in the movie. I found it hard to keep most of the dogs straight, but it’s not really all that important; the majority of the pooches are just filler to get to that magic number that is the same as the reindeer. I like intrepid Agnes, voiced by one of the regulars on the wonderful kids‘ show Jakers!, and Buzz has a couple of good moments, but the rest of the elves are inconsequential.

There’s also the matter of the music. The over-the-top love ballad seemed like something out of the cringe-worthy From Justin to Kelly, and the repeated song about “sticktoitivity” is a strange combination of rap and power ballad that doesn’t seem to gel at all and annoyed my mom hugely. Gary Morris, who wrote the songs, has won a Grammy for his work before, but that background is not evident here.

It wasn’t a terrible way to spend an hour, but I’ve certainly seen better Christmas specials. Unless you’re really hard up for something Christmassy, I’d skip Nine Dog Christmas.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Cuteness Abounds in Biscuit's Christmas Eve

When it comes to lift-the-flap books with canine protagonists, I always think first of the Spot books by Eric Hill. With bright, cheerful pictures and short, simple sentences, these stories take us through several everyday adventures by the little yellow puppy with a distinctive spot in his fur. Another popular canine character for youngsters is Biscuit, a light brown puppy that looks like it may be a Cocker Spaniel. Biscuit is more realistic-looking than Spot and is often featured in easy readers aimed at a slightly older audience than the Spot books. In Biscuit’s Christmas Eve, however, the left-the-flap format is in place, and the text is simple enough to line up with Hill’s.

Like the rest of the books in the series, Biscuit’s Christmas Eve is written by Alyssa Satin Capucilli. Illustrations, meanwhile, are by Mary O’Keefe Young and Pat Schories. While Spot lives with his parents in an anthropomorphic household, Biscuit is a pretty realistic puppy who lives with a little girl. In this book we see the two of them preparing for Christmas together. For each two-page spread, there is a single flap on the page on the right, always in the same position.

There’s nothing particularly unique about this book, which isn’t so much a story as a catalog of traditional Christmassy images with Biscuit and his young owner inserted. We get to see Christmas tree decorations and discover that Biscuit particularly likes the ball. He impedes the hanging of the stockings by playing tug of war and gets tangled in the Christmas lights. Carolers turn up at the door to share their Christmas tidings, with a reward of some tasty Christmas cookies. There’s also a roaring fireplace, a Christmas story before bed and a homemade Christmas gift for the girl’s parents.

Alongside all of these nice cozy expressions of a traditional Christmas celebration, there are hints throughout the book at the deeper meaning of the holiday. For instance, there is a Nativity scene on the mantlepiece and an angel on the tree, and at one point, the girl queries, “Do you hear what I hear?” There’s nothing very overt, but it’s nice to have some acknowledgment of the religious significance of Christmas.

Biscuit’s Christmas Eve is a very short but cute book that should appeal to fans of the sweet little puppy. It’s not a board book, so exercise caution when giving it to children young enough that they might be tempted to rip the flaps clean off. If they’ve never encountered Biscuit before, chances are that they will soon have a new cuddle-worthy character to embrace.

Lemony Snicket Contemplates Christmas Miracles in The Lump of Coal

In The Latke Who Couldn’t Stop Screaming: A Christmas Story, Lemony Snicket of A Series of Unfortunate Events fame turned his talents to a skewered Yuletide tale. With The Lump of Coal, he does it again, once more anthropomorphizing an inanimate object associated with dinner. While Latke is as much a Chanukah story as a Christmas one, The Lump of Coal is rooted more exclusively in Christmas. It’s a strange story with elements that are both uplifting and amusing, though I would say it ultimately is less successful than its predecessor.

The titular lump of coal is not a happy entity. Brett Helquist, Snicket’s collaborator for A Series of Unfortunate Events, depicts him as a downcast fellow dressed to the nines in a business suit. Like the latke, he is on a quest for self-discovery. His journey for purpose takes him to an art gallery, a Korean barbecue and a street-corner Santa Claus. At every stop, he is disappointed by the inauthentic nature of what he finds. The man at the gallery has a phony accent. The woman at the barbecue sells food that isn’t Korean. And the man who at first seems to be the Jolly Old Elf is nothing more than a cranky stepfather. Is there any hope for a poor disillusioned lump of coal?

Toward the beginning of the book, Snicket notes, “Miracles are like pimples, because once you start looking for them you find more than you ever dreamed you’d see.” Despite the rather distasteful subject of the metaphor, this is a surprisingly upbeat sentiment for Snicket to espouse. As someone who revels in all things warm and fuzzy, I liked the fact that the book begins and ends on an unabashedly optimistic note. Nonetheless, it seems slightly out of sync with Snicket’s style. Moreover, the more positive tone seems directly tied to the fact that this is probably the least humorous of the Snicket books that I have read. The occasional laughs derive mostly from odd pairings of words or images; for instance, the Korean barbecue doubles as a secretarial school. But nothing in the book made me laugh out loud.

The Lump of Coal is a Christmas story, but the ultimate emphasis on gratitude makes it just as fitting for Thanksgiving. The uncharacteristically cheerful ending veers toward the preachy as Snicket tells us that everyday miracles include getting enough to eat, getting to spend one’s days and evenings doing whatever one pleases and finding true friends. These are indeed miraculous things, even if we seldom see them as such, so while Snicket may not be at his zingiest here, his message is an important one to ingest.

Lieutenant "Broccoli" Learns to Embrace the Real World in Star Trek TNG's Hollow Pursuits

Last week, I was doing some late-night channel surfing and happened upon Genesis, one of the few episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation featuring Dwight Schulz’s nervous, severely socially awkward engineer Reginald Barclay. I was excited to see the character, who I fondly remembered, mainly from season three’s Hollow Pursuits, which introduces him. When I looked that episode up, I was delighted to find that it would be airing on Thanksgiving night. The episode was just as charming as I remembered.

Schulz gives a performance that is extremely comical but also sympathetic. At one point in the episode, he confides in his immediate superior, the kind and competent Geordi La Forge (LaVar Burton), that he is the guy who always writes down things to say before he goes to a party, then ends up spending the evening in the corner studying a potted plant. For a wallflower like me, this poor fellow who has earned the whispered nickname “Broccoli” from his crewmates is easy to relate to.

Not only is Barclay a wonderful character, but Guinan, the serene bartender portrayed by Whoopi Goldberg who is probably my favorite occasionally recurring character on TNG, has a terrific heart-to-heart with Geordi during which she encourages him to show oddball Barclay a little empathy. She relates the story of her brother, the black sheep of the family, who had a fantastic sense of humor that no one else got a chance to appreciate because they wrote him off so quickly. When Geordi explains how unpopular he is with the rest of the officers, complaining that he’s never on time and is always agitated, Guinan responds that if she were surrounded by people who didn’t like her, she’d probably be late and nervous too. Geordi is a very nice guy already, but this conversation is an important aid in helping him give Barclay another shot.

Anytime the holodeck comes into play, it’s a treat, because we get to explore entirely different settings from the sterile starship, often with fancy costumes for those usually stuck in the same uniform all the time and with literary or historical characters springing to life to interact with the crew. One of my all-time favorite posters is the American Library Association’s one featuring the members of Captain Picard’s crew holding their most beloved books. This doesn’t seem like much of a stretch because the show frequently includes allusions to various literary figures, particularly Sherlock Holmes.

In this episode, we get the Three Musketeers, with Barclay programming his idyllic escape from reality with Picard (Patrick Stewart), Geordi, Data (Brent Spiner) as the famous swordsmen and Riker in the role of eager young D’Artagnan. All are accomplished duelers, but none can match the skill of Barclay, who, within his own little world, demonstrates none of his characteristic jitteriness. The Crushers (Gates McFadden and Wil Wheaton) and Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis) also have amusing holoworld counterparts, and it’s especially entertaining to see how the real Geordi, Riker and Deanna react to them when they crash the program in search of Barclay.

This is an episode that seems very ahead of its time. Though it aired in 1990, it is the perfect cautionary tale on the dangers of getting too sucked into the Internet, particularly role-playing games. Sally Caves, who wrote the teleplay, seems to have anticipated the extent to which people could get drawn into this illusory world, particularly those who have trouble with real-life social interaction. Of course, the message could apply to any number of fiction-based entertainments, from books to Dungeons and Dragons. But it seems to fit the Internet especially well.

Hollow Pursuits is one of the funniest episodes of TNG, but it’s packed with meaning, with a lesson to the Barclays of the world not to retreat so far into their own imaginations that real life eludes them and to those who know such people not to let them feel so isolated that such pursuits seem like the only way to find peace.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee Carry the Fire in Cormac McCarthy's The Road

It was the spring of 2008 when I heard word that Viggo Mortensen, eccentric actor extraordinaire who breathed such regal life into Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings, would be coming to Erie to film The Road, director John Hillcoat’s adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic novel. As I’d just recently surprised myself by admiring the gritty No Country For Old Men, also based on a McCarthy book, this gave me three powerful reasons to put the movie on my Must List long before it hit theaters. When I learned that the cast would also include Robert Duvall, who’s been a favorite of mine since Phenomenon, that sweetened the deal even further. And yet it would be a film set in a devastated world, a landscape in which few could survive and fewer could maintain the last vestiges of their humanity. I wanted to see it. But could I handle it?

I wasn’t sure. So I read the book. And bleak as it was, I found the novel profoundly moving, uplifting even. So it was that I arrived at the movie theater with tickets in hand for the opening night of The Road, anticipating a much quieter story of ruination than the adrenaline-soaked 2012. In Hillcoat’s film, we see no exploding monuments, no panicked news reports, no citizens fleeing in terror. While faded remnants of advertisements turn up from time to time, no familiar landmarks appear. Mostly, it’s just utter desolation. Charred trees and long-abandoned cars languish under a permanently gray sky; a gloom to match Mordor hangs heavy in the air. But like Frodo Baggins, the unnamed man portrayed by Mortensen is glad to be with his son “here at the end of all things.”

The boy, equally anonymous, is portrayed by Kodi Smit-McPhee, a then-12-year-old Australian with a few films to his credit, though none I’ve ever heard of. This is a film dominated by silence; I would estimate that probably during half of the two-hour runtime, no words are exchanged. When they are, it’s Mortensen who does most of the talking, much of it only in voiceovers. Wisely, I think, screenwriter Joe Penhall occasionally takes McCarthy’s sparsely poetic narration and gives it to the man, turning it into his own thoughts. The writing is so painfully poignant, I feel the film would have suffered without at least some of those ruminations intact. It’s used sparingly enough that it never feels intrusive and helps us to discern the gradual passage of time in a setting in which clocks and calendars no longer have meaning.

Mostly, the movie has three characters: the man, the boy and the land. Because with Javier Aguirresarobe’s masterful cinematography, all of the barrenness of which McCarthy writes seeps off the page and onto the screen. This seemingly-endless stretch of long-dead vegetation is their constant companion, and much of their hope is wrapped up in the vague idea that somehow, somewhere it may change. That if they travel far enough, they may find life instead of death in every direction. An ever-present reminder of that faith can be found in Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s soft, evocative score.

Despite the desolation, though, they encounter others, both on the road they travel with a series of rickety carts and off in the fields and forests where they forage for food. Then, too, there is the man’s memory of his wife (Charlize Theron), revealed in terse flashbacks. Gradually, we learn how they drifted apart in the aftermath of the ambiguous disaster, he forever clinging to survival and she succumbing to despair. Meanwhile, in sun-dappled dreams, we catch the faintest glimpses of their idealized past amidst flowers in full bloom. She begs him to end their misery with a few well-placed bullets, but it is also she who tells the man to go south, giving him a sense of purpose, a quest to fulfill. She who has no hope nonetheless provides the anchor on which his efforts rest. The man endures because he must protect his son, a task made slightly easier when he is able to imagine that a better life could be possible.

Mortensen, so soft-spoken in real life, is in his element here, barely speaking above a mumble in most of his dialogue. His annunciation is more precise and his words a smidgen louder in the voiceovers, but I had to strain to make out some of his conversation. His delivery matches the quietude of the movie, but the man’s bare emotion is thus accentuated all the more clearly. A fleeting smile or a single tear carry great weight on the face of this grimy man ravaged by years of scavenging and months on the move. And oh, the tenderness apparent in his every gesture as he hugs the boy to him, kisses his forehead or, in one of the movie’s sweetest moments, reads him a story by campfire light! If Mortensen does not receive a Best Actor nomination for this role, I shall seriously question the competence of the Academy.

The man is a deeply decent person, a pioneering type who I imagine at home on a ranch in Wyoming somewhere. (Knowing Mortensen’s fondness for horsemanship, I love that the opening scene shows the man nuzzling a horse.) He’s practical and self-sufficient, a simple man who will do what he must in order to survive but will not relinquish his moral code in the process. It’s clear that he has instilled these values in his son, born into a world gone mad, for the boy is compassion personified, and when the man is tempted to let his survival instincts take him into savage territory, it is this largely silent observer who keeps him in check.

Throughout the first half of the movie, Smit-McPhee barely speaks at all, but when they face a series of critical ethical choices, the boy is not afraid to voice his opinion. In Smit-McPhee’s wide eyes are the sagacity of a little child who could lead the way into a new life, if one would dare dream of such a thing. This boy who regards his father as one “from another world,” full of delights of which he can only fantasize, is determined to “carry the fire,” as his father has instructed. A child so kind and contemplative might be in danger of coming across as cloying, but he never does. His desperate desire to extend generosity to a haggard fellow traveler (Duvall) and even a petty thief (Michael K. Williams) is believable, as a way of making sense of an incomprehensible world.

I read The Road on Father’s Day, and rarely have I encountered a more compelling father-son relationship. I saw the movie on the eve of Thanksgiving. It might seem like an odd choice. But in truth, few movies have ever left me feeling so profoundly grateful for my blessings, big and small. In the film, the man and the boy take nothing for granted, carefully guarding their meager possessions. And at one point, they offer thanks while sharing a repast that may come from a can but is truly as appreciated as the most magnificent turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

On the way out of the theater, we bumped into a couple of my brother’s friends, who laughingly noted that little video editing was needed to make Presque Isle in April look post-apocalyptic. That may be so. But come the summer, the flowers will bloom and the birds will chirp in the branches overlooking the gently lapping waves, just as they do in the unseen background as the credits roll. Some may watch The Road and see only despair. But I see triumph of the human spirit, faith against all odds and love of the deepest kind. I see a true contender for Best Picture. And this Thanksgiving, I’m grateful that my little town could be a part of it.

Michael Jackson's This Is It Is a Sweet But Incomplete Gift

For the past year or so, I have served as a guide on ChaCha, a mobile answering service that allows people to text in with questions and receive personalized responses in a timely fashion. Several months ago, I began receiving a lot of questions about Michael Jackson’s upcoming “This Is It” tour in London. Wow, I thought. Now that would be something to see.. Something, of course, that I was not in any position to see myself, but I was happy for the thousands who would be making the trip for one of the sold-out dates. When I learned of his death, I was shocked. Surely if he’d been weeks away from a massive tour, he was in good health? I didn’t believe it at first, but National Public Radio provided all the confirmation I needed. What a tragedy. And what a disappointment.

I had hoped that some sort of DVD release, if not a full-blown theatrical release, was planned to follow this tour. Certainly it would have been a shame for all the fans of modest means to miss such a spectacle. Michael Jackson’s This Is It is not the experience that would have been. As the film points out in its scrolling introduction, dress rehearsals were eight days away on June 25. What we get is a tantalizing peek at what might have been, and no doubt an attempt on the part of those behind the concert to recover from the staggering monetary loss; from a purely economic standpoint, it’s hard to see how Michael’s death could have come at a worse time. Was this a movie cobbled together purely for profit, a documentary of which Michael himself would not have approved? To some extent, perhaps. But it always feels respectful, never exploitative, and the emphasis is most definitely on the music.

It would have been easy to include footage throughout the video of throngs of fans mourning for Michael, but the movie itself never makes explicit reference to his death at all, not even in the introduction that mentions June 25. In light of his death, the testimonials by the dancers auditioning for spots on his team read like eulogies; to a lesser extent, so do later reflections by other members of his crew, from instrumentalists to techies. But all of this was filmed as Michael was very much alive, and we were never meant to see it.

Most of what we get is rehearsal for specific songs. Although, for the most part, the costumes are not in place, so it’s just Michael and his back-up dancers in t-shirts, we get to see some fantastic dance moves that look all the more spectacular en masse, as in a segment when, thanks to the magic of computer graphics, we witness an army of dancers generated from about a dozen. These cinematic moments, with footage taped to complement the performances during the concerts themselves, are the most visually arresting portions of the movie. I was particularly dazzled by the lavish presentation of Smooth Criminal, which intercuts Michael’s live performance with clips of him inserted into the black-and-white movie Gilda, and the ghoulish Thriller.

One thing that comes across loud and clear in this documentary is that Michael was a perfectionist. He knew exactly what he wanted and never hesitated to speak up when every aspect of his performance wasn’t just as he thought it should be. I’d hesitate to call him a diva; all of the corrections we see him issue are exceedingly gentle, and he scolds himself at times too. He repeatedly says that he wants everything to be as perfect as it can be “for love,” as a gift to the fans. And the next time I watch it, I want to keep a running tally of how many times he utters the words “God bless you.” He comes across as incredibly soft-spoken and kind. Nonetheless, it seems that he sometimes had difficulty articulating exactly how to achieve the vision he saw in his mind, and at times there is a definite weariness in the voice of director Kenny Ortega as he tries to break through the communication gap.

I was a little disappointed that my favorite Michael Jackson song, Will You Be There?, doesn’t make an appearance in the concert, though brief footage of a leaping orca feels like an homage to that Free Willy theme. We see that scene during the portion of the movie that moved me most. Though I loved Michael’s hits that were driven by humanitarian interests, particularly We Are the World and Heal the World, which plays during the credits, I’d never really thought of him as an environmentalist. I only encountered Earth Song when, in the immediate aftermath of his death, I took a What Michael Jackson Song Are You? quiz on Facebook. It impressed me then when I looked up the video on YouTube, and more when I saw his performance on the big screen.

I was haunted by the video portions, featuring angelic-looking young Jasmine Alveran wandering placidly through a gorgeous jungle landscape before falling asleep, only to awaken in shock at her devastated surroundings. Meanwhile, Michael seems to have sung with more passion here than at any other point in the concert. He also speaks at length during this portion about his concern for the environment, and later, during a pre-rehearsal circle with his crew, he again asserts his commitment to reversing humanity’s negative effects on the planet. It made me wish that he’d collaborated with John Denver at least once. What a team they would have made!

Seeing all of the hard work, talent and passion that went into this concert, my heart goes out to the many members of his team who were living their dream, only to have it snatched away before it could be fully realized. While Michael occasionally expresses concerns about preserving his voice, there’s little to indicate any sense of frailty in this film. He seems vigorous, full of energy - and childlike enthusiasm, as amusingly illustrated when he has to be reminded to cling to the safety rail as he’s raised up in a cherry picker.

For Michael Jackson fans, this is a sweet, albeit sadly incomplete, gift. Go and revel in the complex choreography and the unique glimpse of what was involved in putting together what would have been an exceptional show. Stay for the credits, both to recognize that it takes a village to create a concert of this magnitude and to see the brief clips that serve as a tender coda. And, of course, it’s during the credits that we get to hear the title song. While it’s probably impossible to watch this documentary without reflecting on the sad circumstances that led to its release, Michael Jackson’s This Is It is also sure to bring a smile and may just inspire the next groundbreaking young performer.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

SpongeBob and Patrick Spread Holiday Cheer in A Very Krusty Christmas

I recently reviewed A Merry Mermaid Christmas, declaring it the first Christmas story I’d read that takes place underwater. Hot on its heels, I’ve found a second: A Very Krusty Christmas, set in Bikini Bottom rather than Atlantica and starring the always-lovable SpongeBob SquarePants, the bright yellow sponge who “lives in a pineapple under the sea“ with his pet snail and looks at the world with wide-eyed wonder.

Given SpongeBob’s enthusiastic nature, it’s no surprise that he is a fan of Christmas. In this book, written by David Lewman and illustrated by Robert Dress, we see right off the bat just how eager SpongeBob is as he’s decorated with oodles of brightly colored lights. Now, considering the fact that he is thousands of leagues under the sea, I have no idea how these lights are able to turn on, let alone how he can flip the switch without getting electrocuted. But this is a show on which starfish eat burgers and snails meow, so I long ago learned not to expect too much logic from the sponge and the gang.

There’s a touch of A Christmas Carol to this cheerful story. Decent, hardworking SpongeBob is like Bob Cratchit, while ornery neighbor Squidward takes a “bah humbug” attitude toward the holiday. For the most part, though, this is an original tale that involves Mr. Krabs, the cantankerous owner of the Krusty Krab, where both SpongeBob and Squidward work, coming to appreciate the economic value of presenting a Christmassy restaurant.

SpongeBob’s excess of Christmas spirit irritates both Squidward and Mr. Krabs, but once the nefarious Plankton decks out his own eatery, the Chum Bucket, as festively as possible and the customers flock in, the sponge and his faithful pal Patrick have a chance to give the Crab Shack a Christmas make-over. Will that solve everyone’s seasonal woes?

This is a silly story that is nonetheless rather charming, since SpongeBob is such a sincere sponge and Patrick is his stalwart shadow. Fans of the series will find in this book plenty of familiar characters and lively illustrations, along with a unique spin on some Christmas traditions. So pull up your boatmobile and celebrate A Very Krusty Christmas with SpongeBob SquarePants.

Merry Monsters Abound in Elmo's 12 Days of Christmas

When I was in first grade, my teacher brought in A Sesame Street Christmas on vinyl. I’ve loved the Muppets for as long as I can remember, and I was especially taken with the version of The 12 Days of Christmas that appeared on this album. So taken, in fact, that I begged my teacher to let me borrow it, and she agreed. I suspect I had thoughts of making a tape of the record, though since I can’t ever remember listening to it after that year, I don’t think that happened. And now I have a burning desire to see if I can get it on CD.

Anyway, the Sesame Street edition of 12 Days of Christmas was silly and personalized to reflect the wishes of the various characters. I vividly remember Cookie Monster was the first in the lineup and he got “one delicious cookie”. Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I can look up the other verses, which gives me a great nostalgic rush. Two of the featured characters are Muppets I barely remember, but most are more iconic, and Bert, Ernie, Oscar, Count and Big Bird have especially appropriate gifts to recount: argyle socks, rubber duckies, rusty trashcans, counts a-counting (I guess he’s lonely?) and pounds of birdseed.

The board book Elmo’s 12 Days of Christmas similarly takes the basic structure of the song and uses it as the jumping-off point for a Sesame Street-specific song, with an emphasis on Elmo, who is so very popular with the toddler set. In this book written by Sarah Albee and illustrated by Maggie Swanson, Elmo appears on every page, mostly accompanied by generic monsters, though Grover and Cookie Monster put in appearances.

While the Sesame Street version from the 1970s concentrates largely on the personalities of the individuals involved, this book is a celebration of Elmo’s imagination. On the first day, we have Elmo decorating a tree, a very Christmassy scene. Most of the other illustrations have little to do with the season at hand but are fun to look at. Instead of “one delicious cookie,” we get “two yummy cookies”. “Three French friends” yields monsters in berets and mustaches; “four calling monsters” chat on the phone.

The most unseasonal of the days is seven, on which the monsters are swimming in a kiddie pool. Considering the fact that Sesame Street is in New York City, this is not a December scene. “Eight monsters milking,” which takes place out on a farm, also seems very summery. By the time we get to eleven and twelve, it feels Christmassy again, with “eleven monsters piping” in kilts and bagpipes, perhaps my favorite illustration, and “twelve monsters drumming” in red drummer uniforms.

Albee sticks as close as she can to the original song while still making it Elmo-specific. Nine of the twelve verses contain the word “monster(s)”, and in several cases, that’s the only word that is changed. I would say that the first Sesame Street version is more creative, but I like this Elmo edition better than several other knock-offs I’ve seen. You can easily write a custom 12 Days of Christmas around just about any subject out there. It’s Swanson’s pictures that make this sturdy book so fun for pre-readers, and if they happen to start singing about monsters dancing instead of ladies, this song-that-never-ends won’t make any less sense than it already does.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Lift the Flaps as The Berenstain Bears Trim the Tree

The Berenstain Bears have been around for a long time, long enough to have several books dedicated to their Christmas celebrations. These include The Berenstain Bears’ Christmas Tree, The Berenstain Bears Meet Santa Bear and The Berenstain Bears Save Christmas. More recent than any of these is The Berenstain Bears Trim the Tree, a book that is not so much about the story as it is about the pictures, and finding little surprises in the illustrations.

This lift-the-flap book aims at a slightly younger audience than the typical Berenstain book, with little in the way of narration and less in the way of plot or character. For a book of this format, such things can afford to be a bit lacking, since it’s really all about lifting up those stiff bits of paper and unearthing whatever is hidden underneath. The reason for the peeking in this story is that various items keep disappearing, prompting inquiries of “Where is [the missing object]?”

Like most books in the series, this one is full of colorful illustrations, both above the flaps and below. Each page has just a single flap, so it’s not a book that’s likely to keep youngsters occupied for long periods of time, but it’s a start. A trek up to the attic for ornaments is fun and may inspire kids to check out their own attics, if they’re lucky enough to have them, for long-lost treasures. There’s also a Christmas light-untangling scene that should ring true with anyone who has ever hung those delightful but dastardly decorations.

Another nice element of this book is the fact that it includes Honey Bear, the youngest member of the Bear family who has only been a part of the series for about a decade. There’s a mildly chaotic feel to the book, but on the whole it’s rather uneventful. Additionally, because it’s not a board book, it might not hold up too well with vigorous young readers. But at least for the first couple of times through, The Berenstain Bears Trim the Tree is a fun option for young Berenstain Bears fans.

I Spy a Cute Counting Book: Jean Marzollo's Ten Little Christmas Presents

One series of books that has been extremely popular in my house is the I Spy series, which asks readers to carefully examine photographs composed of dozens of intricately arranged objects and identify a few specific ones. The main brilliance of those books lies in the visual masterpieces created by Walter Wick, but Jean Marzollo’s rhymes guide the experience for the reader, allowing them to peruse with more purpose.

With Ten Little Christmas Presents, Marzollo has the spotlight to herself. Her simple rhymes will have a familiar ring to anyone familiar with her previous work. The verses count down from ten and follow the pattern established by the first: "Ten little Christmas presents, in snow so fine... / Mouse gets earmuffs! Now there are nine.” On the left side, we see a specific animal, while the page on the right takes us back to the dwindling stack of gifts, each with a name tag attached.

This book features ten different animals, and each of them receives a different article of clothing. The owl receives a vest; the raccoon sports a scarf; the woodchuck wears a sweater; the fox dons a poncho; the rabbit bundles up in a snowsuit; the porcupine procures a pair of mittens; the chipmunk gets a jacket; the blue jay displays a bonnet and the squirrel is nice and cozy in a tail warmer. The back of the book includes a memory game challenging kids to try to remember which gift goes with which animal. It also might be worth discussing why each animal receives the present he or she does, and which of the other distributed gifts might also have been a good fit.

The watercolor illustrations in this book are cute but rather squiggly-looking. I much prefer the photos of I Spy, but then those are very different books than this. According to an interview on Marzollo’s website, this is a book whose text she dashed off over the course of a train trip, with the artwork shortly following.

That’s not to say that she didn’t put care into it, though, and the dedication to Kristen Mary Faust, a friend of hers who died at the age of 27 in 2006, seems quite heartfelt. But it does seem likely to have taken less time to put together than an I Spy book, and it certainly takes less time to read through. Repeat value is also more limited, and while I Spy attracts readers of all ages, the demographic for this one is definitely around ages 4 to 7.

Still, this is a cute addition to the plethora of Christmas counting books out there, so for animal-loving youngsters, Ten Little Christmas Presents is worth a look.

Clifford Endangers Then Helps Santa in Clifford's Christmas

Clifford’s First Christmas is a story that takes fans of the Big Red Dog created by Norman Bridwell back to his first Christmas, which occurred when he was still firmly in itty-bitty puppyhood. That book was published recently, but it is best enjoyed when paired with a more classic Clifford holiday offering: Clifford’s Christmas.

Clifford’s Christmas is a pretty typical book for the series. In simple prose, Emily Elizabeth serves as our narrator, telling us about her ginormous dog Clifford and how she celebrates Christmas with him. The book is more reflective than narrative, though the progression of the season gives the story shape. Christmas begins with Thanksgiving for Emily’s family; from that point on, Clifford finds plenty of ways to celebrate the season, though given his size, not all of his merrymaking works out so well.

On the plus side, Clifford sculpts a charming snow dog. On the not-so-good side, he falls through the pond where everyone is ice skating, ruining that particular pastime for many. He is very excited for Christmas and decorates accordingly, with a tree too large to fit in Emily Elizabeth’s house, while she conspires to do some canine Yuletide matchmaking with a bit of mistletoe.

In Clifford’s First Christmas, Clifford has an encounter with Santa, who helps him out of a jam. This time, it’s Santa in need of help as he falls into Clifford’s absurdly large stocking and his toys take a tumble into his water bowl. This book is a little more action-packed than the puppy version, since adult Clifford is so destructive, albeit unintentionally. The illustrations are cute and colorful, with the most iconic picture featuring Clifford in a custom-fit Santa suit.

“Clifford is a wonderful dog,” Emily Elizabeth tells us. “He makes every day Christmas Day.” With that in mind, Clifford’s Christmas is a book that works any time of year, but young Clifford fans should find it especially satisfying as the close of the year approaches.

A Very Marley Christmas Is A Very Messy Christmas

I still have yet to see Marley and Me, the 2008 Owen Wilson / Jennifer Aniston comedy-weeper based on the best-selling autobiographical book that I have yet to read. I love dog stories. But I’ve been warned that both are very emotional, as they follow the life of this particular dog from adoption to death, so I’ve been somewhat hesitant. However, I had no qualms with picking up A Very Marley Christmas, which merely focuses on the Christmas of Marley’s puppyhood.

John Grogan, author of Marley and Me, also wrote this picture book, which is illustrated by Richard Cowdrey, whose cheerful paintings fill large portions of the pages while still leaving room for several paragraphs. This is a book for slightly older readers, around the 6-to-9 range, though it might be a good read-aloud for younger kids. Marley, a yellow lab known for his knack for getting into loads of mischief, is up to all sorts of tricks in this book, interfering at every turn with the holiday plans of his “parents” and their children, young Cassie and baby Louie.

Most of the book simply details Marley’s various destructive antics. In this respect it reminds me a bit of Clifford, but while the big red dog wreaks havoc wherever he goes by accident, simply because of his size, there’s a sense that this little pup delights in disaster, even if he doesn‘t quite invite it. He spills decorations and plays tug-of-war with the Christmas tree, which he eventually comes to see as his own personal piddling post. He tangles the Christmas lights and tinsel - admittedly, not very difficult to do - and chews up a string of snowflakes made by Cassie. At every turn, he’s doing something to aggravate his family, whose frustration with him leaks out in verbal outbursts. One wonders how much of this two reasonable humans can take.

Of course, by the end of the book, we’ve arrived at a happy resolution in which all is forgiven. The change of heart is tied to a sudden snowfall, as well as the family members’ ability to be easy-going and laugh when many people would feel like screaming. The emphasis on forgiveness and the chronicling of mistakes many pet owners have had first-hand experience with make this a sweet and fun book for those who would always prefer to spend Christmas with a canine companion, even if that means putting up with a little chaos.

A Snowgirl Named Just Sue Goes Nicely With A Snowman Named Just Bob

Three years ago, I read A Snowman Named Just Bob, a tender picture book written by Mark Kimball Moulton and illustrated by Karen Hillard Good. The two have since collaborated on Reindeer Christmas, which I like even better, but when I saw that there was a sequel to Just Bob, I had to have a look. Good’s country-flavored illustrations are lovely an old-fashioned, reminding me of a Lang Folk Art calendar, while Moulton’s verse is presented as artistically as possible, intersecting with the paintings in surprising ways, whether it’s a block of text or a wispy swirl.

A Snowgirl Named Just Sue takes place in February, a couple of months after the young narrator and his family built Bob. “All the holidays had passed,” he says. “Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah - each one had been a blast!” This line strikes me as a little odd, as it seems to imply that his family celebrated them all, which doesn’t seem too likely. But maybe he’s just speaking in general terms.

In any event, it’s getting warmer, and rain and sun are beginning to wear away the snowy friend so beloved by his creators. As Valentine’s Day approaches, they fear that another storm will wash Bob away entirely. But instead, that mooshy-gooshy holiday brings a very different type of shower. Not rain, and not snowflakes, but hearts, falling in “ruby, rose, vermilion, pink, / blush, crimson, coral, flame! / We tried our best, but there were reds / we couldn’t even name!”

Not only is Bob able to survive in such strange precipitation, the heartfall inspires the creation of Sue, a mate for Bob. Like A Snowman Named Just Bob, this story has a definite melancholy edge to it, and I would say it’s even more pronounced here when paired up with the romantic storyline. It’s really more of a Valentine story than Christmas, but with the continued presence of snow and the prevalent association of snowmen with Christmas, this sequel covers two holidays, and really three; as I read, I kept being reminded of the classic New Year’s song, Old Lang Syne.

Bob and Sue are not going to be with this family forever. But just as certainly, these “old acquaintances” will never “be forgot”.

Amy Krouse Rosenthal Makes Learning Tasty in Christmas Cookies: Bite-Size Holiday Lessons

One of the coziest Christmastime traditions for many families is baking cookies together. In Christmas Cookies: Bite-Size Holiday Lessons, that experience serves as the cornerstone to some important lessons in vocabulary and life. Amy Krause Rosenthal and illustrator Jane Dyer team up for this clever book that celebrates the joy of the season with humor and gentleness, sharing messages that are useful throughout the year.

The book essentially is a series of definitions that are not so much definitions but examples of a particular word. Rosenthal, with a lot of help Dyer, gets her point across by showing rather than just telling. Just as Lemony Snicket constantly provides context-specific meanings for his words, Rosenthal relates a long list of words to Christmas, in particular the preparations for a Christmas party.

The book shows a mix of children and anthropomorphic animals, including a mouse, a lion, a giraffe and a squirrel, wearing clothes. The paintings have a somewhat smudgy look to them but are appealing, in part because of the generally cheerful expressions of the faces of humans and non-humans alike, in part because of the overall comfortable atmosphere conveyed.

My favorite aspect of the book, though, is the definitions. That’s the meat of the project, which each word standing out in large capital letters, followed by a kid-friendly explanation of what it means. For instance, “DISAPPOINTED means, I tried to make it looks like a star, but it didn’t turn out at all the way I expected.” I especially like this one because of the play on the word “point”. Some words go together especially well, like “FRUSTRATED” (“I can’t believe we burned the cookies again”) and “PERSEVERANCE” (“We tried and tried and tried, and finally we made the perfect non-burned batch.“) Other highlighted words include ANTICIPATION, TRADITION, CELEBRATE, APPRECIATIVE, PROSPERITY, CHARITABLE, RESPONSIBLE, MODERATION, RECIPROCATE, SELFISH, THOUGHTFUL, LONELY, SHARING, GRATITUDE, FAMILY, GRACIOUS, BELIEVE, JOY, PEACE and HOPE.

The format may seem like a recipe for a rather dull book, but on the contrary, Christmas Cookies is engaging as well as educational. And for a final nice touch, Rosenthal includes a recipe for Christmas cookies so children can test out some of these words for themselves as they prepare a Christmas treat with their parents. Delicious in more ways than one!

Jason Robards Can't Keep The Christmas Wife From Being Soporific

Thanksgiving is in three days, and I’m in the midst of Christmas Mode. That means reading and listening to and watching as much Christmas-related material as I can. Though I’m frustrated with Netflix for not having a specific Christmas category that I can browse, I managed to find a few seasonal picks that I hadn’t yet seen. One of those was The Christmas Wife.

This made-for-TV movie directed by David Hugh Jones and adapted from a short story by Katherine Ann Jones wasn’t one that I’d heard of before, but I am a fan of its star, Jason Robards, so I figured it was worth a shot. Robards portrays the recently widowed John Tanner, who isn’t ready to let go of his long-held Christmas traditions or face his son (Jim Eckhouse) and his family without his wife. He just wants a nice relaxed holiday at his cabin in the woods, but in order to avoid being crushed by the weight of his emptiness, he decides to look into a newspaper ad offering companions for all purposes.

John doesn’t want any kind of physical intimacy. All he wants is someone to talk to, but at first, he doesn’t seem to be getting his money’s worth with taciturn Iris (Julie Harris), who immediately puts a moratorium on questions, who isn’t interesting in eating dinner and who seems eager to escape John’s company as soon as possible. But in the gorgeous, secluded locale of the cabin, she gradually begins to open up, and John starts to see the possibility that he could learn to fall in love again.

When I glanced at the IMDb cast list before watching the movie, I imagined that the movie would probably involve John bringing his hired friend to a family gathering, but for the vast majority of the movie, he and Iris are the only two characters we see. This makes for a very quiet movie, especially toward the beginning, when he and Irish barely speak to each other.

Aside from a couple of phone conversations with his son and a game of poker with some buddies, the film features only three other characters. Don Francks is friendly but pushy as the man who is a little too eager to fix John up with a Christmas date. Helen Frost plays a woman who frequents John’s favorite restaurant and seems to have attracted his interest. My favorite side character is peppy waitress Dora, mostly because she’s played by Patricia Hamilton, whose performance as Rachel Lynde in Kevin Sullivan’s Anne of Green Gables miniseries is so entertaining.

This is a very short movie at an hour and 13 minutes long. While I was rather surprised at how brief the movie is, in the end I was glad about it, since the film has such a drowsy tone to it that I nearly fell asleep. There’s a good message to be gleaned about rolling with the punches, continuing to live despite tragic changes in one’s circumstances. But despite the skill of the actors involved, I couldn’t help finding this movie dull and a tad depressing. If you like one of the leads, The Christmas Wife might be worth a look, but I wouldn’t recommend it to most.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

The HP Pavilion dv8000 Could Use a New Power Cord But Otherwise Works Great

Three years ago, I received an HP Pavilion dv8000 for my birthday. I’d had other laptops before at various times; this one was by far the fanciest of the bunch. It had been a few years since my last laptop, and I had grown accustomed to using a desktop, but I fell back into the laptop groove immediately. The only thing that took a little getting used to was the touch pad instead of the mouse. The range of motion isn’t quite as wide as it would be with a mouse, but I quickly adjusted, as evidenced by the large area in the center of the touch pad where the color has been worn away. I’ve never used a mouse with it because my laptop is almost always literally in my lap, where a mouse wouldn’t do me much good.

The keys are about half as deep as the ones on our desktop. This makes typing quicker and quieter. Meanwhile, they are of comfortable size, perfect for long stretches of typing; my mom has a laptop about half the size of mine, and typing on her computer is much slower going for me. My HP Pavilion allows me a lot of speed in composition. Word processing and Internet navigation are the two main things I use my computer for, and it performs well in both of those areas, at least most of the time. I get frustrated by the incompatibility among various word processing programs, and different versions of the same program, but that’s really not the computer’s fault.

For the past couple of years, I have had a digital camera, so I’ve begun storing quite a few pictures on my laptop. I have upwards of 7000 photos saved, and my computer is in no danger of running out of space. Of course, my documents take up far less room than the pictures, so I’m in good shape spacewise. I’ve typed hundreds of documents on here and saved them with no difficulty, and on those occasions when my computer does freeze up while I’m working on something, most of the data can usually be restored.

Internet navigation has worked very well for me, aside from some occasional connection problems. Most of the time, it takes seconds to hop from site to site, which is especially handy when I am answering questions for ChaCha, a mobile answering service. Working as a guide there requires downloading the ChaCha Tool Bar, and installing that was a very quick and easy process for me. I am always able to watch videos on YouTube and take advantage of the Instant Viewing on Netflix with few hiccups. Same goes for uploading photographs on Facebook.

On the downside, I have had to take my computer in for repairs a few times. It seems rather vulnerable. I’ve replaced various aspects of the laptop, and at the moment I am operating without a working USB port or sound of any kind. Because of the other computers in my house, I don’t really miss these capabilities much, but if I were on my own I would definitely mind. I can’t really say if the problems I have had are indicative of a flimsy computer, or if I’m just very hard on mine. I use it a lot. The biggest issue inherent with my laptop is the power cord, which breaks easily. I’ve had to replace it several times; the design seems to be inherently impractical.

Despite a few issues, I’ve loved my HP Pavilion and hope to get much more use out of it in the years to come. I’m not very technically oriented, so I don’t know how it all works; I just know that when my computer is cooperating with me, I am a happy camper. While I wish the company would reconsider this model’s power cord design, for the most part, the HP Pavilion dv8000 is the perfect machine for me.

Friday, November 20, 2009

The iPod Touch Is Perplexing But Fun For This Bear of Little Brain

Many who know me well might say that I practically live on the computer. Nonetheless, I consider myself a bit of a Bear of Little Brain when it comes to embracing new technology, so when I found out in September that I was the winner of an iPod Touch, I was delighted but also rather intimidated. This is a gal who owns a cell phone that spends most of its time on the kitchen table waiting to be recharged. A gal who is still occasionally befuddled by her portable CD player. A gal who relates disturbingly well to Jeremy’s parents in the comic strip Zits. So I celebrated my acquisition but proceeded with trepidation.

I’ve now had the iPod for two months, and we’ve had a little more opportunity to get to know each other. My first observation is that the iPod seems to be designed for tiny fingers. I’d say there’s some truth to that, as teenagers seem to be the biggest target for these devices, but how much larger do fingers actually grow after the teenage years? The trouble is more that my fumble fingers haven’t adapted quickly enough. I discovered that they do make styluses specifically to aid in iPod navigation and text-typing, and I may have to invest in one of these; it looks like they run as cheap as a couple of bucks. Still, I can’t help thinking it might have been a nice gesture for Apple to include one of these with the iPod itself. I would think this would be a common problem.

Along those same lines is the issue of my eyes. I find it very hard to read much of what comes up on my iPod because the screen is so small. Generally, I can zoom in by tapping the screen, but I seem to have to hit it in just the right spot in order to elicit a response, and if I’m not careful I wind up zooming out again before I have the chance to read whatever it was that interested me. Moreover, I also have a tendency to accidentally click on links while trying to increase the font size or scroll to a different part of the screen. In addition to the stylus, I’m considering investing in a magnifying glass.

Once that stylus comes in, I’ll probably make more use of the Notes feature, which allows me to type in and save my ruminations with the help of the pop-up keypad. I always carry a notepad or two around with me in case inspiration strikes, and it’s much easier to jot things down by hand than on the iPod, especially if it’s something of any length. On the other hand, I have a tendency to misplace things; one notebook containing a number of rather useful notes went missing on me for the better part of a year, much to my consternation. So if I have something I’m especially keen to remember, the iPod is a pretty good place in which to store it.

I always wear a watch, so I really don’t use the Clock feature much, but it’s neat to be able to look up different locations throughout the world, and the Alarm, Timer and Stopwatch might come in handy sometime. Same goes for the Calendar. The Calculator is a nifty feature for a right-brainer like me, and given the fluid state of the climate in Erie, PA, I can always use a Weather update.

My main association with iPods is iTunes, but while my brother helped set me up with that, I’m not quite brave enough to venture into that territory without his further aid. I blame that partly on an episode of The Simpsons in which Lisa has a fictionalized version of an iPod and accidentally racks up thousands of dollars in bills downloading songs. Terrifying. So come Christmas break, Nathan can give me a hand with that one, hopefully in time for me to bring my iPod along on our traditional post-Christmas trip. By then, perhaps I will have become fully accustomed to the feel of the tiny ear buds.

At the moment, I’m using the iPod mostly for Internet navigation via the browser Safari and YouTube. I was surprised to see this website has its own application icon; I guess it’s just an indication that it’s one of those sites that meteorically rose to become a part of everyday life for a huge portion of the web-browsing population. I’ve been hooked on YouTube ever since I discovered it while hunting down Saturday Night Live‘s Lazy Sunday four years ago, so having such easy access to it is a nice little bonus, especially since my own laptop’s sound hasn’t functioned in some time. I was getting my YouTube fix on my parents’ computer, but the iPod is even handier. Annoyingly, my laptop’s USB port is also not speaking to me, so I have to plug it into the desktop to charge it up. Which makes me wonder whether my iPod’s battery power will survive my upcoming trip... So far it seems to keep a charge for a decent length of time, though, so I’m not too concerned about it.

With so many different applications available - and there are quite a few I have yet to try, both built-in and downloadable - there ought to be something on the iPod Touch to please anybody willing to embrace a bit of new technology. While I haven’t figured out all the ins and outs of mine yet, it works well and has a lot of nifty features that would be especially handy to me away from home. I just need to get in the habit of toting it around and find a good way to protect it. I suspect that this slick little gadget will find its way inside many a brightly wrapped package this Christmas, and that once they get the knack of it, the recipients will find it a gift that keeps on giving.

Rachel Hale and Jane Gerver Serve Up Christmas Cuteness in Santa Paws

There are lots of things most children can be counted upon to love. Christmas is one of them. Kittens and puppies are two more. In Santa Paws, Rachel Hale, who has created many calendars celebrating our fuzzy, cuddly four-legged friends, offers up a 20-page book for toddlers who are enthusiastic about all three.

Santa Paws is a sturdy board book consisting of 10 two-page spreads featuring puppies, kittens or both. Each spread has a four-line poetic stanza in large, white type set against a red, green or blue background. The photography for which Hale is known jumps out vividly from the pages, sure to delight any youngster fond of these lovable pets.

Author Jane Gerver’s writing style is pleasant, with short stanzas whose rhythm is generally consistent. An example: “Puppies chase kittens, / Kittens chase mice. / Have you been naughty / Or have you been nice?” Among the photographs, my favorites include a group of puppies and kittens bundled up in scarves and another bunch of them wearing wings as they are depicted as “angels”. There’s also a rather classy shot of a black-and-white kitten playing the piano, and a picture of a Jack Russell Terrier hanging his head in shame elicits sweet sympathy.

Essentially this is a collection of 10 vignettes with little connection to each other. It’s an opportunity to gaze at some adorable creatures, not to hear a great story. There’s essentially no plot, but considering the very young target demographic for this book, that might not be a huge issue.

Children on the younger end of the 1-to-4-year-old spectrum can just have fun looking at the pictures; older kids might want to come up with descriptions of their own. For those with pets, perhaps reading the book could serve as inspiration for a family Christmas card, with the kids using Hale’s example to come up with possible poses and captions.

This is a very short book that should earn a smile from pet lovers. For older readers, particularly teens and adults, who appreciate the visual element of this book, I recommend Bradley Trevor Grieve’s Every Day Is Christmas, but Santa Paws is worth a little pause from dog and cat afficianados of all ages.

Love Trumps Irony in O. Henry's The Gift of the Magi

When I was in ninth grade, my acting teacher, Jim Gandolfo, and his wife Tammy presented the two-person musical The Gift of the Magi at my high school. I was familiar with the story, as it was included in a collection of Christmas tales that had been a fixture of my shelf for years, and I wasn’t especially fond of it. M. Night Shyamalan has nothing on O. Henry when it comes to the dramatic twist ending, and the one in this story just felt too cruel.

But as I watched this devoted real-life couple, who had met while starring in another production of the same show years earlier, bring the story to life, my attitude changed. Part of it was the script, with its emphasis on the happiness these two paupers brought each other, and part of it was the very real affection they brought to their roles. Ever since then, I have found The Gift of the Magi more touching than depressing.

Not only has the story been adapted for the stage, it has served as the basis for countless other books and Christmas specials. But there’s nothing quite like reading O. Henry’s original, a brief but beautifully written tale. In the recently published picture book edition, the humble majesty of the prose is matched by the exquisite paintings by P. J. Lynch, best known to me as the illustrator of Susan Wojciechowski's The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, one of my family’s favorite Christmas books.

The Gift of the Magi is the story of Jim and Della Dillingham Young, a deeply in love married couple with barely two pennies to scrape together. Despite their poverty, each is determined to give the other an exceptional Christmas gift. Jim, who so admires Della’s flowing locks, knows how taken she is with the set of tortoise-shell combs on display in a nearby shop, while Della is keenly aware of Jim’s desire to have a proper chain to attach to the pocket watch that once belonged to his beloved father. But with no money to spare, securing these items is no simple task...

Lynch’s luminous paintings intricately capture the couple’s bleak living situation, as contrasted with their bliss in each other‘s presence. The apartment is drab, almost empty, yet there is a glow that fills the room whenever Jim and Della share it. Some of Lynch’s illustrations fill two pages, while others take up half a page or a full page. At times, the placement is quite clever, particularly in the two-page spread in which two columns of text separate the nervous Della from her husband, who has just walked in the door and is in for a bit of a shock. Lynch captures their expressions with wonderful warmth and humor. On one page, Della’s entire face lights up when she finds the perfect chain for Jim’s watch; on another, Jim stretches out on the couch and, with a contented grin, sheepishly explains how he procured the money for those magnificent combs.

Despite the picture book presentation, this is not a tale that was written for children. That’s not to say it’s inappropriate or uninteresting, but it is filled with advanced vocabulary likely to trip up young tongues. Delicious words like “parsimony,” “mendicancy,” “vestibule,” “appertaining,” “longitudinal” and “meretricious” turn up on every page. The ironic conclusion may trouble some sensitive children as it did me, with the couple’s ardent assurances of devotion toward one another standing out less boldly than their misfortune. Nonetheless, this would make a lovely addition to a family bookshelf, and at this time of year it might just as easily become a coffee table fixture, waiting to be carefully perused at any moment. This tender tale has never been presented more lovingly - except by another man named Jim and his equally adored wife.

Christmas Goes Underwater in A Merry Mermaid Christmas

I’ve read Christmas stories set in many different types of locales. But A Merry Mermaid Christmas, written by Mary Man-Kong and illustrated by Bob Berry, is the first I’ve encountered that takes place underwater.

This colorful paperback takes readers to the majestic undersea kingdom of Atlantica introduced in Disney’s animated feature, The Little Mermaid. In the film, Ariel is 16, and she doesn’t seem much younger than that here; the much younger Flounder also seems about the same age as in the film, so I’d say it’s set within a year before the events of the movie. Not that continuity is a huge concern in Little Mermaid prequels, as demonstrated by the movie Ariel’s Beginning.

The book boasts an eye-catching cover, which is textured and sprinkled with sparkles. Inside, the illustrations are less striking but consistent with the look of the movies and TV series. The book is written in simple prose and involves Ariel’s discovery of the human holiday of Christmas. She’s so taken with it that she decides that the merpeople and their aquatic friends should have their own celebration, complete with a makeshift Christmas tree, decorations and a secret gift exchange.

Scatter-brained seagull Scuttle has a large role to play in the book, as he tells Ariel all about Christmas after she discovers some artifacts discarded from a celebration. Along the way, he characteristically offers some amusing names and definitions for ordinary objects, calling a book a “wopple” and a Christmas star a “sparkleydoo”. The sparkleydoo ends up being the central object of the book, as Ariel finds a very special purpose for it.

It’s fun to see Christmas traditions translated into an underwater context. The “Christmas tree” consists of sea plants stacked on top of each other to resemble an evergreen, and gifts given include a seaweed scarf and a shell necklace. Of course, snow is out, but on the whole, the scene looks very festive, and the celebration emphasizes the value of generosity.

This is a simple tale for young fans of The Little Mermaid. It’s not particularly involved, but I’d say it works better than the film sequels do. The basic story would have worked well as an episode of the television series. If you’re dreaming of an aquatic Christmas, have a look at A Merry Mermaid Christmas.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Wonder Pets Save the Reindeer By Working Together

A couple years ago, I was watching TV with my cousin when a show came on Nickelodeon that I hadn’t encountered before. Called Wonder Pets, it featured a trio of irresistible young animals who went about rescuing other young animals. The spirit of cooperation and the prevalence of music on the show make it similar to The Backyardigans, another show for the pre-elementary set that features several cuddly animal protagonists. Based on what I’ve seen of them, both programs seem to be of high quality and have positive messages, so I was happy to snuggle down for a few minutes with their respective Christmas books.

The Backyardigans’ Jingle Bell Christmas is a cute little tale set to the tune of Jingle Bells. Wonder Pets! Save the Reindeer!, adapted from Chris Nee’s teleplay by Tone Thyne and illustrated by Michael Scanton, is a bit more involved, more driven by the rhyming narrative than the illustrations, though the pictures are delightful, albeit, in the spirit of the show, a tad trippy. While the starring characters are photographically generated, the backgrounds and props are animated, resulting in an odd mixed-media creation. But the animals are adorable, and the wintry landscapes are lovely, so the mixture isn’t too odd to be enjoyed.

The trio of heroes are 5-year-old Linny the guinea pig, the ringleader; sensitive 4-year-old Tuck the red-eared slider terrapin and 3-year-old Ming-Ming the duckling, who, much like me at that age, is full of bravado and could use some serious speech therapy. Throughout this book, all three of them wear Santa hats, and their house is bedecked with hand-made decorations. They also travel around in a snazzy Christmas Flyboat. But the most festive element of the book is the little reindeer who becomes trapped on an icy pond. What can these tiny critters do to help?

I recently read Reindeer Christmas, another book that involves a reindeer in distress being aided by altruistic youths. That book is more literary and is aimed at an older audience. This one is short and sweet, a nice little tale for toddlers to cozy up to. It encourages teamwork and problem-solving, and fans of the show and their parents should be satisfied with this holiday adventure with the guinea pig, the turtle and the duck.

Star Trek: The Next Generation - Genesis Is Completely Ridiculous, In a Good Way

So I was sitting in the living room, too tired to do anything productive, too awake to call it a night, and after one flatulence joke too many from Craig Ferguson, I grabbed the remote, whereupon I was reminded of that glorious, albeit inconveniently late, time slot during which Star Trek: The Next Generation is on WGN. So I settled in for Genesis, an episode I’d never seen before. It features one of my favorite minor players, jittery Lieutenant Barclay (Dwight Schulz), and it starts off with the promising scene of Data (Brent Spiner) undergoing a consultation regarding his pregnant cat, Spot.

Some of my favorite moments in the series involve this cat, including Data’s reading of his own poetic composition, An Ode to Spot, and his range of emotions concerning her fate in Star Trek: Generations, so I figured her appearance was a good sign. And who can resist the promise of kittens? Unfortunately, while Spot does play a key role in the plot, we see very little of her, and even less of her and Data together - and in one of those scenes, her appearance is decidedly different. In high school, I witnessed the taping of a commercial spoofing The Wizard of Oz that co-starred an iguana as Toto. The fact that it made no sense whatsoever added to the humor. It’s supposed to make sense that fluffy Spot transforms into an iguana before the episode is out, but it never really does. This is one weird episode. But it’s very entertaining.

I was surprised to see that Genesis originally aired in March. It definitely struck me as a Halloween episode, sort of Treehouse of Horror TNG-style. Beware the Ides, and beware the episode’s premise if you want to avoid scratching your head in confusion or shaking it in exasperation. The whole thing plays out like a spoof of cheesy horror movies as various members of the crew begin demonstrating strange behavior before undergoing startling changes to their physiology.

Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis) becomes unbearably chilly; Will Riker (Jonathan Frakes) can’t hold onto his train of thought; hypochondriac Barclay becomes hyperactive. Most noticeably, Worf (Michael Dorn) becomes unaccountably surly, which is initially funny but grows worrisome as the episode wears on. Even Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart) is beginning to exhibit symptoms of paranoia. Data alone is unaffected, and it’s up to him to put on his Sherlock Holmes cap and figure out just what is going on.

Genesis goes in a much different direction than I anticipated. It’s one of the funniest TNG episodes I’ve seen, in a campier-than-the-original-series kind of way. I’m not sure it was supposed to be so silly, but really, once Deanna sprouts gills, it’s hard to take anything that happens in the episode too seriously. But boy, it sure made me chuckle...

Mark Kimball Moulton's Reindeer Christmas Encourages Generosity

One of the first Christmas gifts I remember receiving from my aunt Nancy is an autographed copy of Jan Brett‘s Annie and the Wild Animals. Several years later, she presented me with Stranger in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy by Carl Sams and Jean Stoick. In between and since, she has given me many nourishing books, but I thought of these two in particular as I read Mark Kimball Moulton’s Reindeer Christmas, for this is the story of an older relative instilling in the children she loves the importance of compassion and generosity, specifically toward hungry creatures in the winter.

In this book, beautifully illustrated by Karen Hillard Good, who uses drab colors to give the paintings an old-fashioned look, two children live with their grandmother. They make it a point to share their food with the wild animals lurking near their cozy home, and when they find an injured reindeer, they quickly welcome it in and nurse it back to health. After they send the animal on its way, they come to realize just how special a guest they housed when Santa sends them a remarkable gift to express his gratitude for restoring a member of his team.

I always find it interesting to take a peek at the dedication page, and I found the sentiments here especially moving. Kimball writes, “This story is dedicated to everyone who truly believes in the wonder of the season,” while Good, more personally, dedicates the book “to Dad, for all of those magical walks through the forest when I was a kid, and Mom, who always had the hot chocolate ready when we came home.” Though we don’t see a mom or dad in the book, this family is very close-knit, and all of them certainly appreciate the wonder of the season.

One thing I like about this book is that even though it’s a story about Santa Claus and his reindeer, the Reason for the Season is subtly incorporated throughout its pages. Around the house hang signs reading “Peace,” along with a drawing of the Nativity. The text itself mentions Christ, and in his thank you note to the family, Santa talks about praying. And this is a beautifully written tale, composed of rhyming couplets and incorporating rich vocabulary like “filigree,” “regal” and “luminescent.”

“Luminescent” is a good word to describe this book. As warm as a tray of gingerbread cookies fresh out of the oven, as heartfelt as the decoration applied to those cookies by tiny hands, Reindeer Christmas is a gorgeous tale of light and kindness.