The Circle of Life Sequence Gets the Picture Book Treatment in Morning at Pride Rock

There have been many movie previews that have made an impression on me, but none can match the impact of the one for The Lion King, which was simply the opening sequence of the movie. I had never seen anything as eye-poppingly epic as the sight of hundreds of animals rushing toward Pride Rock to the tune of African chanting, stirring instrumentals and a powerful lead vocal describing the “Circle of Life.” This is the scene recreated in Teddy Slater’s Morning at Pride Rock, illustrated by Robin Cuddy and David Pacheco.

The illustrations in the book are magnificent, recalling the majesty of that opening scene. While the last picture is on a single page, the book otherwise consists of 14 two-page spreads, most of which feature a particular type of animal reacting to the summons to Pride Rock. A cheetah. A pair of rhinoceroses. An octet of meerkats. We have gracefully wading storks, lumbering elephants and soaring flamingos, stampeding zebras, scampering moneys and galloping gazelles. Giraffes and topi are the final animals to be highlighted. It would have been nice if all 11 species could have been represented in the picture showing the animals bowing before the new prince, but the up-close view of the animals that we get instead is enjoyable.

The focus of this book is mostly on the diversity of the creatures who answer to the lions. Counting the royal family, Zazu the hornbill and Rafiki the baboon, there are 14 distinct types of animals here, and each reacts to the presentation in a different way. While it doesn’t quite have the same epic scope as that part of the movie, it’s perfectly plain that something big is happening. The sense of urgency and excitement is apparent throughout the book. It’s also interesting to watch the progression of the sunrise, which so gorgeously shapes the backgrounds. At the beginning, the sky is a deep reddish orange color. The shade shifts slightly from page to page so that by the conclusion, we’re looking at a brilliant blue sky.

I thought that Morning at Pride Rock might simply use the lyrics to Circle of Life as its text, but instead, the narration featured in the colored strip that runs along the bottom of each page is unique to this book. Written in large italics, the words are limited to one sentence on most pages. Usually it’s only one line of text, but sometimes there are two. The writing is fairly simple but has a poetic ring to it, especially in the descriptions of the animals. The giraffes are “elegant,” the gazelles “graceful,” the cheetah “tawny.” Slater incorporates some good verbs as well; the elephants “trumpet” the news of Simba’s birth; the storks “plod.” Even though this is far from a wordy book, youngsters might be introduced to a new word or two.

Without the exceptional music and fluid movement across a vast expanse, it’s hard for a book to truly pack the punch of one of my favorite Disney scenes ever, but Morning at Pride Rock comes close.

Elmer the Amazing Technicolor Dream Elephant Learns to Love Himself As He Is

One of my favorite musicals is Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, based on the account in Genesis of Joseph, favored son of Jacob, and that glorious coat that symbolized the favoritism that made his brothers so jealous. That was the first thing that I thought of when I began to read David McKee’s Elmer, one of many books recommended to me by 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up. The second was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and all of the stories in that vein, in which an animal with an unusual attribute must overcome the derision of his peers. I suspected, then, that Elmer, a patchwork elephant, might be ostracized for his unusual coloring. Happily, however, McKee has woven a gentler fable that requires none of its characters to act with unkindness.

Elmer is a most unusual elephant. He certainly stands out in a crowd. While everyone else in his herd is some shade of gray, Elmer is every color of the rainbow, and a couple of others besides. His personality matches his appearance, for he is a class clown among pachyderms, always making the others laugh. They just love having Elmer around. But insecurity begins to kick in, and he fears that they are laughing at him rather than with him. And who could blame them? He’s an oddball. He doesn’t want to stand out anymore. So one day, he sets out to give himself an Extreme Makeover. When he returns from the tree laden with gray berries, he will be indistinguishable from anyone else, and that will certainly be an improvement, won’t it?

I love that McKee makes his case for individuality without having to make anybody look bad. Elmer is the only one in the book who thinks that he is inadequate. It’s apparent just from the expressions of happiness on the faces of the other elephants and the nearby jungle creatures that Elmer is truly loved. These are not derisive sneers; they’re expressions of simple joy. And that feeling is infectious. I couldn’t help smiling as I perused the colorful pictures and absorbed the waves of support and appreciation emanating from the supporting characters, none of the rest of whom are given names. There’s a clear difference in how the others interact with him in his disguise, yes, but it’s not what he expects. While they remain courteous, the wide smiles that stand out so clearly early in the book are diminished. They miss their jolly friend.

Elmer is a short book that packs a lot of happiness into a few pages, and the elephants’ eventual reaction when they discover Elmer’s deception leads to one of the most exuberant two-page spreads I’ve ever seen. I can’t help wondering if McKee’s creative ending inspired a public art project or two; I’m certainly reminded of my own city’s highly popular GoFish and LeapFrog projects that resulted in dozens of delightful fish and frog sculptures being scattered all over town. It’s a conclusion that goes to show that different can be good, and at the same time that ordinary doesn’t necessarily mean bland. That’s definitely a message I can live with.

Poignant Uncle Elephant Shows How a Bond May Form Despite Creaks and Wrinkles

I fear I am nearing the end of as-yet-unread Arnold Lobel books. He died when he was only 54, and it pains me to think of how many more brilliant stories he could have written given the time. Happily, the stories he did write and illustrate stand up to multiple readings, just as fresh, funny and poignant as the first time around.

Leaning more heavily toward the poignant side than usual is Uncle Elephant, a collection of nine stories ranging from five to eight pages. Atypically, these stories closely follow one another chronologically, to an extent that the partitions hardly seem necessary. In another unusual move for Lobel, the book is written in the first person, from the perspective of a young elephant who believes he has been orphaned after his parents are lost at sea.

Enter Uncle Elephant, a distinguished and elderly (he remarks in a couple of stories about his wrinkles and creaks) relative who invites the narrator to stay with him following the unhappy event. Because of the youth of the speaker, the sentences are even simpler than usual for an I Can Read book, though Uncle Elephant's speech has definite traces of sly sophistication.

Each story title starts with the words Uncle Elephant and is followed by three words describing a key action that will occur in the next few pages. I especially like how the book comes full circle, beginning with Uncle Elephant Opens the Door and ending with Uncle Elephant Closes the Door.

Uncle Elephant is an eccentric stranger to our narrator when they meet, but he becomes a trusted friend through his gentle knack for knowing just how to win his nephew's favor and keep his mind off his sadness. He may have "more wrinkles than a tree has leaves ...than a beach has sand ...than the sky has stars," but Uncle Elephant knows how to have a good time, from making extravagant wishes on a "magic lamp" and trumpeting the rosy dawn from his vibrant garden to wearing all of his clothes at once and writing a song just for him and his nephew.

The book has an old-fashioned feel to it, with the rusty red and green tones and the lack of modern implements. Though the book was written in 1981, it feels like half a century earlier, with trains, telegrams, oil lamps and elegant clothing. The setting just adds to the charm of a tender tale about friendship and family in which two characters at either end of the age spectrum find both.