A Little Fellow Embarks on a Grand Adventure in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

"You're a fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all."

For as long as I can remember, I have claimed this quote from the conclusion of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit as my favorite, adopting it as my personal mantra. After all, unassuming hobbit Bilbo Baggins is the first literary character with whom I deeply identified, and that identification has helped to shape my life. No other character has meant as much to me as Bilbo has, so few films have elicited the kind of anticipation within me that Peter Jackson's The Hobbit has. First, I thought it would be one movie that would come out a few years after Lord of the Rings. Later, I was intrigued by the prospect of two. When I heard this year that it would be a trilogy, I chuckled, since the territory it has to cover is so much smaller. Nonetheless, I wasn't about to complain about Bilbo getting three movies for himself, and after seeing the first last night, I really think Jackson and company can swing it.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey starts in familiar territory with Ian Holm's well-preserved 111-year-old Bilbo preparing for the birthday party that, unbeknownst to his nephew Frodo (Elijah Wood in a very brief cameo), will also serve as his going-away party. At the same time, he is recounting his adventure on paper, and at first, I found myself wondering if he would continue to interject his comments, Forrest Gump-style, throughout the film. Instead, Holm's purpose is mainly exposition - providing a history lesson on the conflict that ultimately drove the Dwarves in his direction - and charming bookending device. The rapport between Bilbo and Frodo is great fun, and it makes me curious whether any other latter-day characters - particularly Samwise Gamgee - might turn up for a moment in one of the last two films.

But as much as I love Holm as Bilbo, this film belongs to Martin Freeman, who from his first moments on screen adroitly captures the humor, warmth and hidden stores of courage within this hobbit who is so jarringly whisked out of his comfortable life. He and Sir Ian McKellan delight in the banter of Bilbo and Gandalf's first exchange in one of the scenes that is most faithful to Tolkien's witty dialogue. It cements the curious kinship between the grizzled wizard and the sheltered hobbit. Despite their differences, there truly is a special bond of spirits, of naïf and mentor, of world-weary wanderer and fresh igniter of hope. Gandalf sees in Bilbo a simple purity of soul sufficient to counteract the gathering evil in the world. He is merely one thread in a grand mosaic, but it's a golden thread that reassures the wizard of the high beauty that no Necromancer can blot out.

The Hobbit has always been Bilbo's story, but to a certain extent, Jackson expands it by making it almost equally about Gandalf and deposed Dwarf leader Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage). I've always found Thorin a harsh character, and he remains so here, but in focusing his passion more on his slain relatives than his lost gold, the film makes him come across more sympathetically. For Thorin, this quest is about honor and reclaiming what was stolen from him. For Gandalf, it's about how this relatively minor journey fits in with the much larger picture he sees beginning to take shape. Just an occasional sidelong glance or twinkle of the eye is enough to reveal that Gandalf has his own purposes of which neither Thorin nor Bilbo have any inkling. This is most overt during the sojourn in Rivendell, when he holds a secret conference with Elf lord Elrond (Hugo Weaving), white wizard Saruman (Christopher Lee) and beneficent Elven queen Galadriel (Cate Blanchett). While the presence of the latter two is pure addition by Jackson, it feels entirely plausible and provides one of the strongest ties with the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

In the book, Bilbo's perspective is paramount, and we never leave his side for any length of time. Here, he is sometimes absent for significant stretches. Nonetheless, it still feels like Bilbo's tale, and Freeman portrays him perfectly. We see Bilbo as a gentle but insulated soul. Accustomed to his cozy, solitary lifestyle, he believes himself content to remain cloistered in lush, familiar surroundings, concerning himself only with his own affairs. Where Jackson makes changes to the story, it is often in the interest of creating bonding opportunities for Bilbo and the Dwarves. The tender friendship between Bilbo and the aged Balin (Ken Stott), perhaps the most mild-mannered of the Dwarves, comes across well, as does the more visceral camaraderie offered by the exuberant young brothers Fili (Dean O'Gorman) and Kili (Aidan Turner).

Of course, there's also the slow thawing of Thorin's antagonism toward him and the pure magic of every conversation with Gandalf, whether they are bickering like a couple of crusty curmudgeons or gathering strength from each other in the midst of their frailties. Freeman's comic timing is impeccable, and so is his sense of Bilbo's soul, the courage and compassion that lie deep within him, largely untapped. One of the most exquisite moments in the film occurs when Bilbo awakes to a silent, empty hobbit hole, and for all his grumbling at the unexpected visitors the night before, in his bearing and especially his eyes is the sting of regret that he has missed a meeting with destiny, following by the flood of relief that he can still make the choice he was so abruptly offered. This is a quest that Bilbo needs to take.

I could make complaints about changes and additions to the book, but few of them bothered me. I would have liked to see a few more opportunities for Bilbo to show off his special skills, particularly in regard to Thorin's map, and I'm not sure how I feel about his diving into the fray of a battle. While he does spar with spiders in the book, I always think of Bilbo as a pacifist - as well as one who prefers to stay out of trouble's way when he can. I'm not convinced it's entirely true to him to do something so potentially self-sacrificing, especially this early in his journey, but it does powerfully demonstrate the sense of responsibility he has come to feel for his comrades. One of my favorite additions is the sage advice Gandalf offers him: "True courage is about not knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one." If courage is to be equated with mercy, Bilbo truly shines in his encounter with Gollum, and Andy Serkis is once again a master class in acting as he brings him to life in all his wretched misery, infusing the tormented character with a humanity that makes him hilarious, horrifying and heartbreaking all at once.

The most glaring addition to the film is Radagast the Brown, a wizard who, as played by Sylvester McCoy, is definitely one egg short of an omelet. Despite the eccentricity of this batty St. Francis of Middle-earth who travels about in a rabbit-drawn sledge, he, like Gandalf, sees the wonder inherent in small things, making him more attuned to the evil that affects the vulnerable. As I have always been fond of the character and found him underused, I was happy to see him here, even if he is largely relegated to comic relief. He may look ridiculous, but at the same time, he has an insight the stately Saruman lacks. While actually inserting him into Bilbo's adventure is a major departure, it's one that makes me smile, and it is another element of the film that helps set the stage for Frodo's later quest.

Peter Jackson loves battle sequences, and the movie is full of them. While it's probably fair to say he goes a bit overboard, particularly when he creates battles that aren't in the book, they are exciting and should be enough to satisfy those coming to the movie for an adrenaline rush. The film is solemn when it needs to be, with the somber chant of the Dwarves in Bag End a particularly potent example, and Howard Shore's score enhances the most soul-stirring moments. It also rarely goes more than a few minutes without some humor, which is sometimes found in Tolkien's zingy dialogue and sometimes in the visual and physical comedy of the fastidious Bilbo and various bumbling Dwarves. While it perhaps borrows excessively from the Lothlorien interlude in Fellowship of the Ring, the sojourn in Rivendell swells with the amusement of the clash between the gruff Dwarves and the ethereal Elves. Only Gandalf and Bilbo truly find it a restful retreat.

Much has been said about Jackson's innovative film techniques here. I saw it in 2D and noticed no significant difference, though as before I was impressed with the absolute visual majesty of the world Jackson and his team of artisans and effects wizards created. It absolutely feels like stepping into Middle-earth, from the humble, verdant beauty of the Shire to the sylvan glory of Rivendell and the grotesque gloom of Gollum's cave. While I wanted to focus on the story opening night, I am curious about the 3D and will probably try to see it in that format before it leaves theaters. I'm sure that I will also catch subtle details I missed the first time around; there's just so much to take in.

Is it overly grandiose to turn this fairly simple tale into a full-fledged trilogy? Perhaps. Even Jackson didn't intend to initially, but the film doesn't feel overblown to me. It feels like a legitimate first part of a prequel trilogy with Bilbo at the center. While his mission is not as important as Frodo's, it has grand ripples. What's more, it is a more personal story, since one character remains absolutely central to the proceedings. While we may spend some time with Gandalf and with Thorin apart from Bilbo, I certainly don't anticipate the kind of fragmentation we saw in The Two Towers and Return of the King. This is a journey of many hues, but first and foremost, it's the tale of a peaceful, pastoral recluse who goes out into the world and discovers all that it has to offer - and all that he has to offer it.

Cameron Dokey Brings the Spirited Mulan to Life in Wild Orchid

When I think of brave Disney princesses, Belle usually comes to mind first. However, Mulan – technically not a princess at any point in her Disney existence but still lumped in with the rest – is even braver, posing as a man so she can go off to war in her ailing father’s place. The devotion this young heroine of Ancient China showed to her father touched me, and her courage and independent spirit reminded me of Eowyn, my favorite female character in Lord of the Rings. I’d never heard of Mulan before the Disney movie came out in 1998, but The Ballad of Mulan, the tale from which she emerged, is as beloved in some corners of the world as Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella. Hence, her story is a part of Simon Pulse’s Once Upon a Time Series, which includes novelizations of a dozen or so famous folk and fairy tales.

Cameron Dokey, who also wrote six other books in the series, is the author behind Wild Orchid, the tale of Mulan that was published in 2009. It bears little resemblance to the Disney version except in its basic storyline: Ancient Chinese tomboy goes to war in her father’s place, falls in love with her commander and saves China. The rest of the details are completely different, so if this book was influenced in any way by the Disney version, Dokey seems to have made a concentrated effort to make them completely distinct from each other.

This version is entirely devoid of any fantastical elements: no talking dragon, no conferring ancestors. Mulan, who narrates the book, is significantly younger, just 14 years old when she joins the army. Raised by Min Xian, an elderly housekeeper who doesn’t keep a very tight rein on her, Mulan is the daughter of a respected general who she doesn’t meet until the age of 13 and his beloved wife who died giving birth to her. Their marriage for love was unusual, a gift granted by the Emperor for her father’s exceptional service. Hence, while everything about this story feels pretty natural and plausible, there is a slight mystical sense that because Mulan was born of such a marriage, even though she grew up in the absence of her parents, she has a heart that is destined to follow its own path.

What surprised me most about this book, which contains 19 chapters and about 200 pages, is the fact that Mulan does not leave home until more than halfway through. We spent a lot of time getting to know her through her unconventional childhood, which is filled with clandestine lessons from her best friend, a neighbor boy named Li Po. While Min Xian insists that she develop feminine skills like embroidery and weaving, she spends her free time gaining a much more interesting education from Li Po. By the time her father returns, she is adept at reading and writing, horseback riding, swordplay and especially archery. But what will her father think of such a rough-and-tumble daughter?

In many ways, this is a father-daughter story. Mulan longs for her father’s love and approval, but she resents his lack of contact throughout her childhood and his refusal to allow her to know her mother’s name. Slowed down by an old war injury and tortured by the thought that history could repeat itself with his second pregnant wife, he is in genuine danger when the summons to fight comes, particularly since he has fallen out of favor with the Emperor and is now only being asked to fight as a regular soldier, but Mulan’s decision to go in his place is almost as much about gaining his respect as it is an attempt to spare him further pain. It’s also an attempt to discover who she really is. She notes repeatedly that she is not like other girls, and she hopes to find a proper place for herself in the army.

Another difference here is that when she goes to war, she meets with two friends in whom she confides her true identity. One is Li Po, who is apprenticed to the other, General Yuwen, a warm, understanding friend of her father’s to whom she became close during his stay in the household after his return home. Having two such highly respected people in on her secret and looking after her makes it a much less lonely and frightening experience. It helps, too, that she quickly forms a curious kinship with Prince Jian, the youngest and most beloved of the Emperor’s sons, after demonstrating her ability with a bow and arrow and her knack for speaking with wisdom and diplomacy. She and the prince seem to understand each other, but does she dare reveal her true identity, and will she have the strength to face the ferocious Huns when they venture forth into battle?

I found this book very well-written and moving. There’s a formal quality to the writing that seems appropriate for the culture in which Mulan is raised. She is extraordinarily well-spoken for a 14-year-old, but then in her world, that is practically considered an adult; it is not at all uncommon for girls to be married off at 15. The unusual freedom she enjoyed in her formative years gives her a deeper level of maturity, even as it contributes to her wild nature. One interesting aspect of this book is the emphasis on names and how they help define and reveal a person’s character. Mulan means “wood orchid,” a fitting description for a spirit so lovely and untamed. Dokey does an excellent job of making her and those she loves real to readers, and I look forward to seeing if she fares just as well with other beloved folk figures.

Sing Like a Seafarer on Talk Like a Pirate Day

Ahoy, matey! Today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, created in 1995 and popularized in 2002 by humorist Dave Barry. I’ve found this event amusing since I first became acquainted with it, though I haven’t quite mastered the gift of pirate gab myself. Hence, I won’t be writing a review in Piratese, but in honor of this rather ridiculous holiday, I present my September 19th list of 19 seafaring songs. While only a quarter of them involve actual pirates and there’s a fairly heavy concentration of songs from the Irish Rovers and Celtic Thunder, I hope it goes down as sweet as a goblet o’ grog.

A Professional Pirate - In this song from Muppet Treasure Island, Tim Curry leads a most unsavory crew in a litany of reasons why the pirate lifestyle is so satisfactory. A gregarious song of welcome rather reminiscent of Oliver’s Consider Yourself, it offers the wily Long John Silver a chance to persuade innocent young Jim Hawkins that piracy isn’t so terrible after all. “It’s how you look at buccaneers that makes them bad or good, and I see us as members of a noble brotherhood!”

Blow the Man Down - When it comes to traditional sea shanties, few are more famous than this one. I’ve heard it any number of times at Celtic fests and other singalong occasions, but when I think of it nowadays, what pops into my mind first is the absurd but endearing sight of brainy Sheldon Cooper and his bubbly neighbor Penny using the song to help them mass-produce hair clips on The Big Bang Theory. “I’ll sing ye a song, a good song of the sea, with a way, hey, blow the man down. I trust that you’ll join in the chorus with me. Give me some time to blow the man down!”

Calypso - John Denver wrote this song in the immediate aftermath of his ride on the Calypso, the ship belonging to ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau. It’s easy to tell how inspired he was; it may be just about the most viscerally joyful song in his catalog, and given how happy so much of his music is, that’s really saying something. An exuberant tribute to Cousteau and to aquatic life. “Like the dolphin who guides you, you bring us beside you to light up the darkness and show us the way. Although we are strangers in your silent world, to live on the land we must learn from the sea to be true as the tide, free as a wind swell, joyful and loving in letting it be.”

Candle on the Water - Definitely not a sea shanty, but so rich in nautical imagery that I had to include it, especially since it is one of my very favorite Disney love songs. Helen Reddy’s Nora, a lighthouse keeper, continues to tend to her duties, hoping that one day the ship her beacon saves will be that of her fiancé Paul, who vanished at sea the year before. The lighthouse becomes a powerful metaphor for the flame in her heart that she refuses to extinguish. “A cold and friendless tide has found you. Don’t let the stormy darkness pull you down. I’ll paint a ray of hope around you, circling in the air, lighted by a prayer.”

Captain Hook - My favorite version of Peter Pan is the televised stage musical starring Mary Martin, with the outstanding Cyril Ritchard as the far more hilarious than menacing Captain Hook. A preening peacock of a man, he revels in the tribute he writes to himself, with his pirate crew chiming in on the chorus. “Who’s the swiniest swine in the world? (Captain Hook! Captain Hook!) Who’s the dirtiest dog in this wonderful world? (Captain Hook! Captain Hook!) Captain of villainy, murder and loot, eager to kill any who says that his hook isn’t cute. (It’s cute!)”

Farewell to Nova Scotia - This traditional Canadian dirge most likely dates back about a century, and I’ve heard several renditions, my favorite of which is the wistful, woodwind-soaked one by the Irish Rovers. Songs of emigration are common to Celtic music; this one stands out to me for this list because of the nautical focus of the chorus. “Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast. Let your mountains dark and dreary be. When I am far away, on the briny ocean tossed, will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?”

Gilligan’s Island Theme Song - Possibly the most maddeningly catchy theme song in television history. Once this song gets lodged in your head, you’re stuck with the bouncy ballad for life. These seven stranded castaways have such a cushy life that it doesn’t really matter that Gilligan manages to thwart their rescue week after week. Since the millionaire Howells seem to have packed for a three-year tour and there’s nothing that the Professor can’t build out of bamboo or coconuts, they’re set for life. Pretty lucky shipwreck! (P. S. You’re welcome.) “The mate was a mighty sailin’ man, the skipper brave and sure. Five passengers set sail that day for a three-hour tour (a three-hour tour).”

Greenland Whale Fisheries - Peter Paul and Mary sing a stirring version of this 300-year-old ballad detailing a whaling expedition gone awry. I’d never heard it before I got their boxed set five years ago, but it’s been covered by many, including The Weavers, whose rendition is perhaps the most famous. The deceptively upbeat banjo is countered by the melancholy flute in this tragic tale. “Oh, Greenland is a dreadful place. It’s a land that’s never green, where there’s ice and snow and the whale-fishes blow and daylight’s seldom seen, brave boys, and daylight’s seldom seen.”

Heartland - One of Celtic Thunder’s two signature songs, this Phil Coulter chant is a prayer for deliverance uttered by sailors in rough weather. In this way, it’s quite similar to the ballad Home From the Sea, included on a later Celtic Thunder album, but the bouncy folksiness of that song, along with the rescue at the hands of the coast guard, gives it a very different tone than this one, a reverent plea borne of desperation and deep faith. It’s a most appropriate song for the group to open with, since the Gaelic chorus, which translates to “Lord, have mercy, Christ, have mercy,” feels so Celtic and the stormy situation, brought to life with deep percussion, certainly takes care of the thunder. “When the winds are howling, vigil keep. Shelter us and save us from the deep!”

Into the West - Extensively hinted at earlier in the score, particularly the exquisite The Grey Havens, this is the end-credits anthem of The Return of the King. Drawing inspiration from Frodo’s vision of the West in the novel and the Tennyson-esque poem Bilbo’s Last Song, which imagines Bilbo’s poetic response to his departure from Middle-earth, this epic Annie Lennox song is slow and ethereal. While it deals specifically with the Westward journey that the heroic Bagginses undertake after their labors have ended, the song also uses nautical imagery to speak metaphorically and optimistically of death. “What can you see on the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea, a pale moon rises. The ships have come to carry you home.”

Jack Sparrow - I distinctly remember the night six years ago when I was watching Saturday Night Live and saw my first Digital Short. I was blown away by Lazy Sunday, which was just so different and so refreshingly funny. In the video, a couple of geeky guys use hardcore rap to relate their exploits leading up to their viewing of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It’s hilarious and, aside from one extraneous word that seems to have been included mostly so it could be censored, perfectly clean. Andy Samberg and his Lonely Island cronies quickly got more risqué with their videos and songs on the show and off, so when this video went viral on Facebook, I was torn between keen interest and wariness. Interest won out; both were warranted. The main trio’s rapped verses are filthy, both in terms of language and activities described, but Michael Bolton’s random melodic outbursts that turn the chorus into a tribute to Captain Jack Sparrow of Pirates of the Caribeean make the wincing worth it. The most entertaining marriage of an epic score and absurd heights of fandom since last year’s I’ll Never Be LOST Again, it proved the perfect way to generate excitement for the fourth movie. “This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow, pirate so brave on the Seven Seas. A mystical quest to the isle of Tortuga. Raven locks sway in the ocean breeze.”

Safe in the Harbour - I just discovered this gentle Eric Bogle ballad thanks to George Donaldson’s debut solo album, The White Rose. Written in tribute to the late Canadian singer-songwriter Stan Rogers, it speaks of sailing as being akin to dreaming before using the chorus to craft a metaphor similar to the one used in Into the West. Simply gorgeous. “To every sailor comes time to drop anchor, haul in the sails and make the lines fast. You deep water dreamer, your journey is over. You’re safe in the harbour at last.”

The Irish Rover - This traditional tune from which the Irish Rovers take their name is a calamitous ballad that really should be a most mournful lament. Instead, however, the whole thing feels like a party, particularly the silly section detailing all of the cargo that the Irish Rover has in its hold. I’ve heard this song oodles of times, but nobody whoops it up like the Irish Rovers, who keep listeners on their toes by altering the lyrics slightly just about every time they record it. Never has a shipwreck been so much fun. “We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out and the ship lost its way in a fog, and the whale of a crew was reduced down to two: ‘twas meself and the captain’s old dog. Then the ship struck a rock – oh, Lord, what a shock! We nearly tumbled over. Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned. I’m the last of The Irish Rover!”

The Mariner’s Revenge Song - This was the song that introduced me to The Decemberists, a truly unusual alt-folkie group fronted by Colin Meloy, who mostly writes songs that sound as though they’ve been floating around for a couple of centuries. That’s certainly true of this nine-minute-long whale of a song accompanied by accordion and tambourine and filled with words like “roustabout” and “consumptive.” After the narrator’s “poor sweet mother” charges her young son with the task of violently dispatching the ne’er-do-well who had his way with her, infected her with some foul disease and abandoned her, even Inigo Montoya would be hard-pressed to compete with his blood-thirsty drive for vengeance. Quite a nasty narrative, but oh so grandiose. “We are two mariners, our ships' sole survivors in this belly of a whale. Its ribs are ceiling beams. Its guts are carpeting. I guess we have some time to kill…”

The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything - Since its first episode, one of the trademark elements of the VeggieTales line of computer-animated Christian videos has been Silly Songs With Larry. This particular Silly Song is doubly goofy because it makes its debut in a video that consists of nothing but previous Silly Songs. These lackadaisical pirates would go on to star in two full-screen flops that almost toppled the company, so I guess you might say they accidentally pillaged their own production. Nonetheless, I found the films fairly fun and the concept a hoot as gruff Pa Grape, luxuriating Mr. Lunt and oblivious Larry the Cucumber brag about all the piratey – and, in Larry’s case, just plain weird – things they’ve never actually done. “And I never hoist the mainstay, and I never swab the poop deck, and I never veer to starboard ‘cause I never sail at all. And I’ve never walked the gangplank, and I’ve never owned a parrot, and I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.”

The Voyage - This Johnny Duhan song, famously covered by Christy Moore, is another that I heard first from Celtic Thunder’s George Donaldson. In this tender love song, the speaker likens marriage to a nautical journey, instantly reminding me of LOST’s Odyssean lovers Desmond and Penny, who spend so much of their time navigating the ocean in their quest to be together. While the central metaphor comes close to being mawkish at times, it never crosses the line, at least when sung by such master balladeers as I’ve heard performing it. “I am a sailor; you’re my first mate. We signed on together; we coupled our fate. We hauled up our anchor, determined not to fail. For the heart’s treasure, together we set sail.”

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Up until the Decemberists came along, I found it hard to imagine a seafaring ballad that could eclipse this six-and-a-half-minute-long behemoth. Even in light of that song, Gordon Lightfoot’s electrified ode to the doomed titular ship remains impressive. Inspired by a straightforward newspaper account of the infamous shipwreck that occurred November 10, 1975, it also has the distinction of being the only non-local song I can think of to mention Lake Erie. I saw this song performed from the second row at a concert in 2000, and believe me, it really felt like we were out there on that roiling ocean. I’ll always think of this as the ultimate shipwreck song. “In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed in the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral. The church bell chimed till it rang 29 times for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

Yellow Submarine - No, it’s not a boat per se, but how could I not include this cheerful ocean vessel at the heart of one of the Beatles’ peppiest, most recognizable tunes? It sure sounds like a wonderful way to see the aquatic world. “In the town where I was born there lived a man who sailed to sea, and he told us of his life in the land of submarines. So we sailed into the sun till we found the sea of green, and we lived beneath the waves in our yellow submarine.”

Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me) - I love that my alphabetization of this list landed me with pirate songs on either end. This song, very much along the same lines as A Professional Pirate, is a celebration of this lawless lifestyle and has served as the official theme song to the Pirates of the Caribbean attractions for upwards of four decades. A very singable shanty that delights in devilish deeds and a perfect way to wrap up this Talk Like a Pirate Day Playlist. “We’re beggars and blighters and ne’er-do-well cads. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Aye, but we’re loved by our mommies and dads. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!”

It took me a while to come up with enough songs for this list, but once they started pouring in, I had a hard time restricting myself to just 19 and had to leave out several great ones, from the Irish Rovers’ mandolin-drenched lament My Boy Willie to the hearty barrel-riding number Rolling Down the Hole from the Rankin-Bass version of The Hobbit. If any of you have favorite nautical songs I haven’t mentioned here, I welcome recommendations. Meanwhile, if you enjoy this type of music as much as I do, I hope I’ve helped you find an appropriate musical backdrop for this most auspicious occasion. I best be shovin’ off fer now, so fair winds to ye, matey, until this time next year!

A Lonely Arachnid Craves Friendship in Miss Spider's Tea Party

Bilbo Baggins, the protagonist of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and one of the very first fictional characters I ever identified with, is a man of many passions. One of them is tea, and throughout his long life, his cozy hobbit hole serves as the setting for many a tea party whose guests are the sort of folks rarely seen in the Shire. While he may be accustomed to having dwarves and wizards dropping by for a drop, I think I can pretty safely assert that the hobbit who christened his dagger Sting by slaying spiders never asked an eight-legged guest to visit Bad End. And if he were to receive such an invitation, I can’t imagine he would have accepted it.

If the issuer had been as pleasant an arachnid as the title character in David Kirk’s Miss Spider’s Tea Party, he would have been missing out. Miss Spider is a vibrant yellow spider with bright green eyes and black legs with yellow polka dots. She comes across as a mildly eccentric spinster, in more ways than one. All she wants is a friend to whom she can be hospitable. Several friends if possible, actually. The trouble is that all the insects she invites think of spiders as bloodthirsty predators, and they assume she is luring them into a trap. I don’t know where Miss Spider gets her nourishment, unless cakes and tea satisfy all of her hunger, but apparently such critters as fireflies, bees and moths are not on the menu.

Kirk’s oil paintings pop on the page. The colors are striking; each type of insect has distinct patterns and hues, making them stand out all the more. The characters aren’t terribly lifelike; they definitely have a cartoonish feel to them. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Kirk has a passion for small crawling creatures. My favorite of his insects are the soft moths, who stand in a line, glowing gently in the gloom of a rainy night, their soft antennae quivering. The backdrops are quite lovely, displaying the beauty of nature and of a well-kept tea service. Most pages feature teacups, a teapot, cakes or decorative flowers.

The book is written in rhyme, and the pleasingly consistent rhythm and rhyme pattern is enhanced by the fact that this is a counting book. Kirk throws a couple of curve balls by making most of the numbers line up with members of a particular species but having a couple deviate from that norm. For instance, we see five toy bugs and eleven assorted guests. The book goes up to twelve and ends on an upbeat note, with Miss Spider’s reputation as an excellent hostess assured. Rhyme-wise, with the exception of the first page, everything follows an AABB pattern. The book begins in ABCB; I assume this is just to give the introductory page a bit of a set-off feel.

Miss Spider is presented as a perfectly kind and considerate creature, and it is easy to sympathize with her as she makes her repeated attempts to be neighborly. “The cakes were fresh, the service gleamed, yet no one would arrive, it seemed. Her company in no demand left her a cup for every hand.” Granted, in the real world, those insects would have reason to worry. Then again, what real spider slaves over a steaming teapot all day? Enter Kirk’s whimsical world and meet a spider who values food and cheer as much as Bilbo does and wants nothing more than to share her bounty with others.

Mo Willems Travels the World in You Can Never Find a Rickshaw When It Monsoons

“In the world of children’s books, the biggest new talent to emerge thus far in the '00s is the writer-illustrator Mo Willems.” This quote from The New York Times Book Review may seem a bit bold, but I’d have a hard time arguing with it. Willems, who has been lauded for his work on Sesame Street and his prolific output of high-quality books for the past decade or so, is a minimalistic genius with a knack for crafting stories that are at once hilarious and poignant. I’ve been consistently impressed with his abilities, so when my friend Libbie passed along the intriguing volume on which this quote functions as a back-cover blurb, I was eager to delve into the book and see what insights it might hold.

The book in question is You Can Never Find a Rickshaw When It Monsoons: The World on One Cartoon a Day. The hefty book documents the trip that Willems took in 1990, when he was a 22-year-old college graduate. With a notebook, a pen and a spare set of clothes, he set off for a year-long voyage, on the cheap and off the beaten path, a journey of self-discovery and cultural awareness. He didn’t follow a clear roadmap; his went with the flow and spent as much time sampling local flavor as he could, proudly wearing the badge of “traveler” rather than “tourist” – a distinction, he says in his introduction, made mostly by the fact that “travelers” do not buy T-shirts of the destinations they have visited.

Earlier this year, I tried to do the 365 Project, an online challenge to take and post a photo every single day for a year. I lasted little more than a month. How much more difficult would it be to manage a cartoon a day? Then again, while I am impressed with his diligence, I know that if I were to undertake such a monumental trek, I would want to have some record of it, and if you’re a skilled cartoonist, this seems like a natural way to do it. I don’t know if it ever occurred to him at the time that he might one day compile the results into a book; he describes the cartooning as “the ritual that held the trip together, gave it purpose, made it real.” Each day got one sketch and only one, and it’s funny to read his incredulous reflections on some of the cartoons, wondering why this was the moment from that day that he decided to capture. He stopped just short of 365 days, which is rather disappointing considering how close he came to a perfect year-long record, but maybe it’s fitting for a trip and a collection of cartoons that is decidedly off-beat.

Willems’ trip is an epic adventure. While I am impressed with his ritualistic discipline, what really wows me is his fearlessness in meandering from one country to the next, usually with no companions to guide him along his way. While Willems displays a talent for making new friends, and this must have made his trip considerably more pleasant than it might otherwise have been, there’s still a sense of isolation about his trek. This is his solo journey, and others just happen to come in and out of it from time to time. For me, a gal whose strongest literary identification has always been with Bilbo Baggins, the timid protagonist of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit whose deep adventurous streak lay dormant for years before it burst forth, I found that reading this further stirred up my wild Took side, even though only a few of the stops on Willems’ itinerary are on my own must-see list.

Dave Barry provides a footnoted Foreword on the subject of travel that had me in gales of laughter as he describes the tedium of being a part of an official TWA tour and expounds upon his frustration with European toilets and tour guides who are too obsessed with flying buttresses. Willems’ introduction is quite amusing as well, though it also explains the circumstances of his trip quite effectively and includes some reflection upon how it impacted his life. He saves most of that, though, for the epilogue, in which he discusses how his trip forced him to see that the world may feel very big when he’s globe-trotting all year, but the sentiments about which the Sherman Brothers wrote have a basis in fact. People on the other side of the world are just as real as those in the United States, and he can no longer feel detached when he watches footage of disasters unfolding in some other part of the globe. The trip and his book, then, are largely lessons in empathy. While he sees the weird, the wacky, the wonderful things that make each place unique, he shows that even in the most remote locations, that shared humanity is very real.

Willems divides the book into sections of a month at a time, with each month’s entries preceded by a two-page spread of a map containing a list of countries he visited and a rough trail depicting his journey. He started and ended in the United States; in between, he visited England, Belgium, Holland, Luxembourg, France, Spain, West Germany, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, Israel, Egypt, Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Hong Kong, China, Macao, Japan and Canada. It seems he especially liked Thailand, as he spent well over a month there; other stops got short shrift, like Israel, which he left early after missing the bus to Jerusalem and deciding to hop a bus to Cairo instead. When he does return to America, it’s interesting to see him making his observations from an outsider’s point of view. After so much time away, it’s easy for him to look at the United States as foreign territory too, especially places he’s never been before.

Every cartoon in the book has a page to itself. Those who have come to appreciate Willems’ style from his children’s books will most likely recognize some similarities, particularly in his self-portraits, which have much in common with his illustrations of Trixie’s dad in the Knuffle Bunny books. The vast majority of the cartoons depict people, most of them random strangers doing something that struck him as unusual or funny. The drawings are full of bold lines and expressive faces, and each includes a caption noting the date, the location and the moment’s significance. Underneath most pictures is further explanation by Willems 15 years later. Some of these notes are illuminating, some poignant, and most have some element of humor to them.

For me, standouts include the following:
6-13 – “Perhaps they come standard with a third-class ticket, because never in my life have I taken a ferry trip that didn’t include at least one drunken Australian guitar player.”
7-13 – Willems marvels over the shallow chatter he overhears from a pair of American girls touring Dachau.
8-17 – A simple depiction of a raging monster with the caption “my tummy”.
9-19 – A self-portrait depicting his joy at receiving mail from his friends back home via the American Express office.
10-10 – Another self-portrait, this time showing Willems attempting to take a “shortcut” across a river in India.
11-22 – A despondent Frenchman searches for his lost puppy in Nepal.
12-24 – A description of the difficulties a traveler faces in finding decent reading material.
1-10 – A reflection on the joys of hitch-hiking in Malaysia.
2-18 – “Scarecrow traffic cops.”
3-17 – A Chinese version of Randy, the overly layered little brother in A Christmas Story.
4-18 – A kid trying really hard to get toss a ketchup packet into a bucket at a McDonald’s birthday party in New Mexico.
5-14 – The rather detailed account of Willems’ ordeal with a terrifying Canadian border guard.

This is not a children’s book. Willems depicts drugs, alcohol and various forms of debauchery. He discusses the devastating effects of wars and natural disasters. He occasionally draws people half-clothed or entirely naked. While he thanks his parents for giving him the travel bug from a young age and espouses the virtues of children exploring the world early, this volume contains his ruminations as a young adult and a more mature adult, and the intended audience is adults as well. That’s not to say that a child might not get something out of this, especially a teenager thinking of traveling abroad in the near future. However, I think most elementary-aged kids would find many of the pictures and explanations perplexing, and many parents would find them inappropriate. Because of Willems’ far-reaching popularity with youngsters and because this looks like a book that could be aimed at that age group, it’s best to be aware that this is a Willems book that deviates from the norm.

But oh, is it fascinating. I loved seeing his little slices of life and reading his observations on how the world has changed and how it hasn’t. I think the book provides great insight into how he thinks and offers hints about where he might have gotten ideas for some of his later stories. The book is witty, thought-provoking and compassionate, and in this way, it does have a great deal in common with the rest of Willems’ books. It’s an unusual exercise in immersion journalism that leaves the reader wanting to see the world but also more ready to find the remarkable in the everyday. As Willems says, “Whenever I want to roam free and experience the world again, all I have to do is open my front door and step outside. I know that the world will be there to meet me.” Wise words indeed. But I’m glad he decided to meet the world first.

Remembering the End of LOST With LOST: The Last Episodes

One year ago today, the epic television series LOST came to an end. In recognition of that event, I thought it would be a fitting time for me to review the final soundtrack. LOST: The Last Episodes is a second double-disc soundtrack of music from the show's final season. This album sneaked in under the radar of many fans; even though I assumed it was coming, I didn't find out it had been released until a couple weeks after the fact. For reasons that mystify me, the album only had a limited run of 5000 copies; considering that the finale's music is the culmination of almost everything leading up to it, I would think that this could potentially be the most popular soundtrack of the seven.

LOST: The Last Episodes features music from the final four episodes of the series. Disc one encompasses The Candidate, Across the Sea and What They Died For, while the second disc contains 24 tracks all drawn from The End, the series finale. The liner notes booklet includes multiple photographs from these episodes, along with a list of what tracks go with what episode and a list of musicians in the Hollywood Studio Symphony, grouped by instrument: violin, viola, cello, string bass, trombone, bass trombone, harp, piano and percussion. As orchestrally rich as Michael Giacchino's LOST scores are, it always surprises me a little to see that there is actually relatively little variety in terms of instruments used.

My favorite part of the liner booklet is the commentary by Giacchino and by showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. The composer's thoughts are short and sweet, thanking the fans and everyone involved in the show for giving him such a moving creative endeavor. “I will miss LOST for years to come,” Giacchino says. Darlton are more long-winded, talking about the series of endings they experienced as the finale drew near and saying how the most intense one was listening to the symphony record the music for The End. They discuss how everyone in the studio felt the enormity of that session and how they themselves had to duck out because they didn't want to risk the microphones picking up on them bawling like babies. What Giacchino accomplished with LOST is truly extraordinary. “We strove for an ending of our series that was spiritually uplifting,” write Darlton, “and at the end we were the ones who were uplifted by the power and emotion of Michael's music. It was, for us, perfect.”

While the second disc is the true star of this collection, the first is outstanding as well. The Candidate furnishes the first five tracks. The shortest is the perilous, trombone-heavy Cage Crashers, which is immediately followed by the slightly longer and hesitantly lovely Shephard's Why, the first of the Sideways tracks, which are almost unfailingly tranquil. Sub-Primed begins on a softly melodic note as Jack and Claire share a tender moment, but the tone soon turns treacherous as the scene dissolves into a shootout. Eerie chimes and some creepy violin shrieks add to the sense of peril.

S. S. Lost-Tanic is another track that is largely action-packed and dangerous-sounding, as just a glimpse at the title might suggest. However, there is also a deeply emotional element to it as well as it signals a tragic but touching conclusion to one story arc. Life and Death is my favorite of all the LOST themes, so any track that incorporates it automatically earns my favor. Following that is the gently elegiac Flew the Coop, which accompanies a painful Sideways conversation between John and Jack.

The music from Across the Sea is set apart from the rest of Giacchino's themes; as with Ab Aeterno, the music is nearly as self-contained as the episode, though hints of it do carry over elsewhere, particularly where enigmatic Island leader Jacob is concerned. This episode reaches into antiquity to reveal the origins of the centuries-old feud between Jacob and his nemesis. Though we never get a precise date for this tale, most estimates put it at about two thousand years in the past. Hence, the music has an ancient, mythical quality to it that hints at Roman influence.

The track Across the Sea is mystical, then quietly ominous, particularly toward the end, which carries the sense of being in close proximity to danger. Don't Look At the Light is startling as well, but it gives way to a lovely variation on the Across the Sea theme that captures the wonder of what the accompanying scene reveals. A Brother's Quarrel is weighted down with sadness as a fundamental conflict begins to take root in the fertile ground of fraternity. A tragic track.

Make Like a Tree, the longest of the Across the Sea tracks, explores the family dynamics among the trio at the heart of this episode. A sense of danger intermingles with affection as two complex relationships reach a critical moment. Mother of a Plan, my favorite track from this episode, carries on the mythical quality as it underscores a scene that will have profound echoes in the final two episodes. However, it's the scene that follows that impacts me most as it depicts the aftermath of a horrific attack and the mingled sorrow and rage that accompany its discovery.

Mother of Sorrow is oppressive and mournful, the backdrop to the chain reaction of violence sparked by the incident depicted in the previous track. This gives way to Love Is Stronger Than Death, which remains sorrowful but also has a thread of beauty to it. Piano, otherwise neglected in this episode, ties the antiquity of Jacob's tale in with the grander story of the modern-day castaways.

From Across the Sea's seven tracks, we move on to the eight tracks in What They Died For, which are mostly reflective and peaceful. This begins with Cereal Experience, which finds Jack in gentle conversation first with Claire, then with Kate, which ends on a note of alarm as they resolve to destroy their powerful enemy. This sense of danger continues with The Four Amigos as Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Hurley plot how to attack their daunting task, but Walk and Talk and Aah! is more reflective, with hints of mystery as the castaways' camaraderie yields to an appearance of the enigmatic Jacob.

Hide and Snitch is brimming with peril as the primary remaining antagonist comes into contact with a contingent of survivors. The trombone especially adds to the brooding feel of the track. A Better Ben has a beautiful beginning in the Sideways before returning to the Island, where Ben has one more devious trick up his sleeve.

What They Died For has an epic feel to it that hearkens back to Across the Sea but more prominently features the main theme of the series. This mingling of Jacob's story with theirs provides one of my favorite pieces of music on the first disc. The echoes of Across the Sea continue with Jack's Cup Runneth Over, which parallels the moment captured in Mother of a Plan. Get Out of Jail Free Card concludes this disc with a mix of the enigmatic and the fun. There's a strong sense of amusement and adventure in this track, which is a cheerful note to end on.

Really, though, we're just getting warmed up, since The End still lies ahead. Disc two begins with Parallelocam, a delicate, slowly swelling track that echoes the season six premiere as we see what each major character is up to in the Sideways and on the Island. Leaver-age has a contemplative feel to it, with the strings emphasizing the mysterious nature of Desmond's quest and Jack's new brand of leadership.

The quietude continues with The Stick With Me Speech, which is enigmatic and sprinkled with the plucking of a harp. Hurley's themes are among my favorites, and here we taste both his affection and his humor before diving into the adventurous walking music. Ultrasonic Flash celebrates Jin and Sun's love with a purely romantic track that mixes their theme with the stirring arrival music that will come up many times throughout the finale.

Fly By Dire is the first truly startling-sounding track, but even that doesn't last long, moving quickly from a sense of foreboding into one of excitement. Next up comes the track with the title that prompted a big grin from me when I first saw it: Down the Hobbit Hole. Referencing Alice in Wonderland and Lord of the Rings in one fell swoop? Nice. I predicted that there would be a moment in the finale comparable to the J. R. R. Tolkien's Mount Doom climax, so it was gratifying to see something with such striking visual similarities. This is an action track, but it's more suspense and emotion than pure action, and several themes are expertly interwoven.

Dysfunctional Setup is another emotional track, this one reuniting two halves of a romantic pairing that few viewers were very invested in. Still, the affecting, strings-heavy music makes the couple seem more legitimate than it otherwise would. Mystery and danger abound in the adventurous-sounding The Well of Holes, while Pulling Out All the Stops explores similar territory before ending on a dire note amidst a sea of shrieking violins and trombones. Similarly, Blood From a Locke is super-short and panicky.

Claire is the focus of Our Lady of Perpetual Labor, sharing her big Sideways moment with Kate and Charlie. The piano and strings blend gorgeously here as we witness three awakenings within the span of a four-and-a-half-minute-long track. The gentleness of the harp on the arrival theme feels especially fitting for Claire. It ends on a rather dire note, though, just as If a Tree Falls begins on one, with jungle-flavored percussion adding to the sense that time is running short. That sense of pervasive peril continues with Locke v. Jack, which eventually slows down to feel less alarming and more heroic.

Can't Keep Locke Down is another Sideways revelation scene, and as such it is richly melodic and orchestrally dense. Locke's name is incorporated into the title of a dozen tracks over the course of seven albums; this is the last, and it's easy to imagine his smile while listening to it. The Long Kiss Goodbye is centered mostly on Island activity, particularly a long-awaited smooch between Jack and Kate, though the midsection also incorporates Sawyer's theme as he encounters Sun and Jin in the Sideways. Some action here, but primarily emotion, with a particularly affecting conclusion.

Half as long and more consistently moving is We Can Go Dutch, the scene that gives us the pay-off from Juliet's cryptic conversation with Sawyer in the season premiere. Kate Flashes Jack is shorter still but comparably heart-tugging up until the ominous final seconds. Violins and harp complement one another well in the gentle Hurley's Coronation, one of my favorite tracks. The peculiar percussion toward the end adds to a sense of wonder without feeling creepy.

The Hole Shebang, one of the longest tracks, was included in the first season six soundtrack as a bonus. This accompanies the final climax of the Island's storyline, combining intense action and soaring emotion. The simply titled Aloha encompasses several endings and beginnings at once, conveying a sense of absolute euphoria. The longest track on this album or any other LOST soundtrack is Closure, which combines several prominent themes, including those of Ben, John, Hurley and Jack, as these characters find closure on the Island and off. A magnificent piece of music, with Hurley's section particularly touching me.

Jumping Jack's Flash, by contrast, is one of the shortest, but it is no less richly melodic or emotionally satisfying. It's only a minute long, but it's incredibly cathartic as he is the last character to have this type of experience, not to mention the central character in the series. Even more gorgeous than the preceding track. Finally, Moving On takes us out of the series. This, too, was included in the first season six soundtrack, which was a nice bonus because this track, above any other, seems to magnum opus of the entire LOST saga. While I wouldn't have minded a slightly higher concentration of Life and Death, I love the blending that occurs here, with the most powerfully emotive motifs intermingling. Giacchino really had to knock this one out of the park, and I think he did. Incidentally, if you look online, you can find an alternate version of this track. As best as I can tell, it's the same until the four-minute mark, at which point the ukelele kicks in. It only plays for about a minute, giving a playful flavor to the middle of the track that seems indicative of Hurley. It makes for an intriguing alternative, but the slightly more solemn main version definitely feels like the right choice for the actual episode.

After Moving On, the “bonus track” Parting Words (Drive Shaft), the full version of the song that Drive Shaft and Daniel play together at the concert in the Sideways, feels a bit jarring. After all, it's an electric guitar-heavy rock anthem augmented by classical piano, and while those last four tracks might easily lure one into sleep, this one will yank you right back out again. Still, it's neat to be able to hear the song properly and match it up with other parts of the score, and the rather raucous nature of the song makes it seem as though it's entertainment at a party in celebration of the series.

A written review is a poor medium in which to express the sheer brilliance of the work done by Giacchino and the Hollywood Studio Symphony. A picture is worth a thousand words, and so is an exquisite musical phrase. Have a listen to this album if you get the chance. Many people were not pleased with the way LOST ended, but everyone I've talked to seems to agree that Giacchino's score is superb. This final soundtrack is the most peaceful one of the lot, with tenderly touching tracks dominating the second disc. I've never known a television show whose score is as integral to its story as LOST's is; it helped set the cinematic tone from the opening moments of the series, and the show would not have been so dramatic or cathartic without it. One year ago today, LOST ended, but something tells me that Giacchino will be enhancing television and cinema alike for a long time to come.

Number 3000: 1001 Tales to Warm Your Mind

Late last year, I realized that I was creeping up on my 3000th post here on Epinions. Because the vast majority of my Epinions writing has been story-related, whether it’s media reviews or media-inspired poetic ramblings, I thought a fitting way to mark that milestone would be with a review of 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up, a guide to some of the greatest kids’ books ever published. Moreover, I would sail on a sea of stories until I reached 3000 by hosting a write-off; hopefully it would motivate me to reach my goal by my 30th birthday and introduce me to some terrific tales in the process.

My Tales to Warm Your Mind Write-Off did motivate me, but instead of writing faster, I seemed to slow down, attempting instead to both write and read more deeply. As my three-month-long write-off stretched into six, I felt a more profound sense of community with some of my fellow members and allowed some of their stories to seep into my soul. My little write-off turned into a far more rewarding experience than I expected, so I certainly don’t mind that I missed my birthday by three months. Instead, I’m happy to be able to share a milestone day with my dear cyber-sister Beth, who celebrates eight years on Epinions today and can attest to the power of stories to bring people together.

1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up is an impressive but not unwieldy collection of suggestions for the avid reader and the parent of the avid reader. Each featured book has between half a page and two pages to itself, often with an illustration or two. Julia Eccleshare is listed as the general editor, and she is the one responsible for the Introduction, which comments on the children's book as a work of art and as the realm of fiction to which story is most central. She talks about the different considerations that went into compiling this list and notes how the book's format invites contemplation of the changes in style and substance that can be charted over the years. The book descriptions to be found in the 900+ pages to follow come courtesy of more than a hundred different writers, many of whom have published children's books themselves.

Aside from the preface (a charming reflection by illustrator Quentin Blake, best known for his collaborations with Roald Dahl), introduction, indexes and contributor bios, the book is divided into five sections, each of which includes a small color-coded half-circle on a designated spot on the side of the page. This makes it very easy to glance at the book and open to the desired section: red for ages 0-3, orange for 3+, yellow for 5+, green for 8+ and blue for 12+. Within each section, the books are listed in chronological order, which also makes finding things quite a bit easier. If you want to see if a particular book is included, you can consult the index of titles at the beginning of the book; the index of authors at the end is equally handy.

Each entry includes the title in large bold print, followed by the year of publication in smaller print. Below that is the name of the author, indicated by a tiny pen icon, and, if applicable, the illustrator, indicated by a tiny pencil. Below that is a small section whose contents include such info as Original Title, Nationality, Theme, Publisher and Awards. In many cases, the cover of the featured book is included; sometimes an inside illustration is chosen, and some descriptions are accompanied by a pertinent quote. Many of the pages also include a small box the same color as that section's tab listing related books. These may be suggested by virtue of having the same author or similar components. For instance, Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island has a pull-out box listing “Other Great Stories of the Sea,” and Salman Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories suggests “More Fabulous Folklore”.

The main feature, however, is the book description, which is usually three or four paragraphs in length. Most of the contributors review several books and are identified by their initials at the end of the entry, but about a quarter of the writers are set apart, each reviewing just one book of particular personal significance. In these cases, a small gray tab at the top indicates who the featured reviewer is. These are especially interesting entries, since they delve into the reviewer's personal experience, whereas most books receive a more detached treatment. I love Judy Blume's reflections on Ludwig Bemelmans' Madeline, which she adored so deeply as a girl that she hid the copy she had taken out of the library, not wanting to be parted with it. “Some books you never forget,” she says. “Some characters become your friends for life.” This is most assuredly true.

Other authors with reviews of this nature include beloved author-illustrator Eric Carle, most famous for The Very Hungry Caterpillar; Newbery-winning author Jean Craighead George, whose love of nature permeates her work; and Newbery-winning Lois Lowry, whose works offer compelling commentary on the human condition. While these are wonderfully illuminating, especially for fans of that particular author, each entry in the book is well-crafted. Some of them are mostly plot summaries. Others focus upon the unusual characteristics of the illustrations or the way in which certain characters have permeated popular culture. Most entries include some mix of elements, discussing the content of the book, the historical context and the public reaction.

One thing that surprised me about this volume was how many of the books were originally written in a language other than English. This gives the book a very international flavor, and while some recommendations, like Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking and Johanna Spyri's Heidi's Wandering and Learning Years, reside on my bookshelf, I confess that the book highlights many books and authors that are entirely unfamiliar to me. Unfortunately, I have found that translated versions of most of these foreign-language books are difficult to track down, especially the ones for younger readers.

One interesting aspect of this book, which Eccleshare touches on in her introduction, is the way in which its demonstrates how the definition of what constitutes children's literature has changed over the years. Many of the books here, particularly those written prior to the 20th century, were not originally written specifically for children, but they have come to be thought of primarily as children's literature, or at least as appropriate for children as older readers. Examples of this include Aesop's Fables, the oldest entry in the collection; Johann Wyss's The Swiss Family Robinson; Alexandre Dumas's The Three Musketeers and Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. I was a little surprised at some of the books that were designated as children's lit, particularly in the 12+ section; then again, many of these books are staples of high school reading, so they certainly are appropriate for teenagers even if they were written with more of an adult audience in mind.

The smallest section by far is the 0-3 category, which is only about 40 pages long. Selections in this section include Make Way for Ducklings, the Robert McCloskey classic that inspired a whimsical series of statues that I had the pleasure of seeing up-close in Boston, and that perpetually popular tale of encouragement, Watty Piper's The Little Engine That Could. Among the books I sought out as a result of this section are Pat Hutchins' Rosie's Walk, a funny retro tale about an oblivious chicken who unwittingly thwarts a hungry fox, and David McKee's Elmer, a charming story about a multi-colored elephant.

The 3+ section is considerably longer at nearly 120 pages. Here's where we start to meet some of my really formative characters, like Winnie-the-Pooh - though I'll confess I first met the Silly Old Bear through Disney and didn't become well acquainted with the Milne version until years later – and, while we're on the subject of bears, Paddington and the Berenstain Bears. This is also the place to look for the works of childhood staple Dr. Seuss and the brilliantly minimalist Mo Willems. Speaking of minimalism, I have this section to thank for my discovery of Leo Lionni's touching Little Blue and Little Yellow, as well as the urban sprawl saga of Virginia Lee Burton's The Little House.

The 5+ section is longer still at about 200 pages, and some truly wondrous picture books grace this portion of the collection. However, because this is a slightly older age bracket, this is where we start to see chapter books, as well as poetry collections by Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky. Some of the giants of Easy Readerdom are here, including Cynthia Rylant and Arnold Lobel. While I would recommend the irresistible Mr. Putter and Tabby over Henry and Mudge, the latter is probably Rylant's most popular series, so I understand its inclusion. I also agree wholeheartedly with Frog and Toad as Lobel's ideal representatives. Few fictional friendships have amused or moved me more. Irrepressible Ramona Quimby, to whom I'm afraid I related quite a bit as a rambunctious young'un, makes an appearance here too. Meanwhile, this section led me to David Shannon's A Bad Case of Stripes and Jen Wojtowicz's The Boy Who Grew Flowers, both of which deal with the struggles inherent in standing out from the crowd in a classroom setting.

The largest section in the book is the 8+ group, which stretches for more than 400 pages. This is where you will find J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, the first novel that was ever read to me and the one that furnished my quote to live by: “You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all!” It's the home of L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, the book whose eloquent heroine I adored as long as she wasn't wrongly reaming out her admiring classmate Gilbert. This book introduced me to the gentle Matthew Cuthbert, the literary character who reminds me most of my late grandpa, and it taught me the term “kindred spirit,” which instantly joined my lexicon as a phrase to denote a cherished friend whose tastes and temperament are remarkably similar to one's own. Then, of course, there is J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter series, which took me through college and beyond and solidified several friendships. Moreover, up to that point, the publication of the final volume was perhaps the most significant pop cultural milestone of my life. The Chronicles of Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Bridge to Terabithia, Where the Red Fern Grows and many other novels that riveted me all make the cut here, and many of the books in this section are ones that plenty of adults have read for pleasure on their own.

I'm a little surprised that the 12+ section isn't even longer, since this is essentially the Young Adult portion and so many of the books here are really just adult novels. However, it does seem that as a separate division, the young adult designation is a rather recent phenomenon, so while we're getting plenty of adult crossover, there aren't a lot of books that started out in this niche. Those that do include Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series and Louis Sachar's Holes. Considering its length, I didn't expect to find Tolkien's Lord of the Rings listed, but it's here, though the description rather makes me suspect that whoever was assigned this epic never actually read it. (Frodo is described as an “unwilling hero” who saves Middle-earth “by first gaining and then safely returning the magical ring, which makes its bearer all-powerful, to its true home deep in the mountains.” (Ah, yes, that cozy reunion between Sauron and his beloved ring. And oh, the lengths that stubborn scallywag Frodo had to go to in order to gain this treasure in the first place!)

Out of curiosity, before I sat down to write this review, I went through the book and jotted down all of the titles that I had read. Rather to my disgruntlement, it was only one-fifth of the 1001 titles. I still have a lot of catching up to do! Of course, even with all those books, any avid reader will no doubt be able to point out omissions of their own favorites. For instance, the prolific Mercer Mayer, best known for his expansive line of Little Critter books, doesn't show up at all, nor does author-illustrator Jan Brett, notable for her richly artistic folktales with detailed borders around each page. As someone who has happily gobbled up the first 15 books in the Trixie Belden series since January, I'm miffed that while Nancy Drew merits a mention, the Bob-Whites of the Glen do not. However, a majority of the authors whose work I've enjoyed show up somewhere in the book, and if you're stumped for new things to read, this collection can offer some excellent recommendations.

Beloved books come to us in all sorts of different ways, from catching our eye on the shelf of a bookstore or library to being praised by a respected friend. This collection is yet another avenue. If you are looking for some interesting new books for the children in your life, you're sure to find some sterling stories if you peruse the pages of 1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up. But bear in mind that these books are not exclusively for children. To quote C. S. Lewis, “When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” For readers of all ages who are not embarrassed to get swept away by a powerful story, this guide is a treasure trove.

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I joined Epinions back in January of 2000 while searching for a place to write book reviews online. I was looking for a creative outlet and a bit of cash, and I found both. I wrote eagerly in the beginning, but most of my efforts were rather hurried and haphazard. It took a year or two before I really got the knack of reviewing, and it's a continuing learning process. Gradually coming out of my shell and interacting more with other members beyond just posting my reviews has made Epinions that much more rewarding and motivated me to write more often and more artfully. I've read the work of dozens of talented reviewers and traded comments with many of them; I can't begin to list them all here, but a few members merit a special mention...

Sleeper54 – Thank you, Tom, for all of your considerate comments and emails over the years. The niggles have improved plenty of reviews, and the compliments are deeply appreciated.

Jedikermit – Thank you, Quinn, for being my go-to person for all things Muppet.

Dragonfire88 – Thank you, Marie, for so many great geeky comment exchanges.

GaelKM – Thank you, Gael, for basking with me in the love of all things Irish.

Mql1208 – Thank you, Megan, for your invigorating thoughts on some of my favorite off-beat movies.

Popsrocks – Thank you, Phil, for your omnipresent optimism even in the most challenging circumstances.

Talyseon – Thank you, Mark, for pouring such passion into everything you undertake.

Toiletoctopus – Thank you, Mike, for your inspiring example of how to carry on a loved one's legacy.

Texas-Swede – Thank you, Thomas, fellow Swedish American, for your consistent courtesy and enthusiasm.

Bethesdalily – Thank you, Nicole, for the sense of joy and serenity that envelops me when I read your reviews and comments. With the eyes of your soul, you see the world more clearly than most people I know.

Imagine_Stars – Thank you, Shar, for the feast of words I've come to expect whenever I read your reviews. You write with such conviction and humor, and your comments are among the most thoughtful I've ever received.

Carstairs38 – Thank you, Mark, for just being you. You are a true kindred spirit whose warmth and wit have brightened many a day, and my life is so much richer because I know you.

Befus - Thank you, Beth, for being the best "big sis" a gal could ask for. You bring out the best in me as a writer and a person, and I feel blessed to call you my friend.

Since this review signals the conclusion of my Tales to Warm Your Mind Write-Off, I would also like to take a moment to thank everyone who participated, especially Mark and Thomas, who contributed so prolifically. I am also grateful to the Category Leads, especially Book Leads Dramastef and Pestyside, for being so helpful in adding titles. And since I am, to the best of my knowledge, the fourth person to reach 3000 posts on Epinions, I also have to thank Freak369, Bryan_Carey and Wlswarts for proving to me that it could be done.

Like many people across the country, I have spent the past several months bombarded with billboards announcing that the world will end today. Clearly, I didn't buy it, or I wouldn't be urging you to add several hundred books to your must-read list. So instead, I celebrate an ending of a different kind, concluding my write-off with the thought of how many wonderful stories lie in store for me and the hope that I might write a tale or two to warm someone else's mind. In the words of the enchanting Pushing Daisies, “Endings, as it is known, are where we begin.” Onward to 4000!

Norah Has a Convoluted Plan to Capture Her Crush's Heart in A Novel Idea

I recently read Scones and Sensibility, an Austen-inspired mid-grade reader that sent me to the online library catalog in search of more books influenced by the late great Jane. That's how I found A Novel Idea, a young adult novel by Aimee Friedman about a reclusive high school junior who starts a book club to beef up her extracurricular activities for her college applications.

I'm not really sure why this book came up when I looked for Jane Austen, since aside from a very offhand reference to Sense and Sensibility, her books didn't come up at all. I kept thinking that the book club would eventually settle on one of her books to read for the month; by the time I realized that wasn't going to happen, I had to keep reading anyway to finish the story. Still, that was a bit of a disappointment.

While our narrator, Norah, drops the occasional reference to real books, she mostly focuses on two fictional authors: Irene O'Dell, who writes cheesy romance novels, and Philippa Askance, a mysterious novelist whose debut made a big splash but who never makes public appearances. Both become very important to Norah between February and May, the time during which she runs her book club. Her fellow members rally around the idea of getting the elusive Philippa to do a reading at the bookstore where the club meets, while Irene O'Dell provides inspiration to Norah as she ponders how to win the affections of her new crush.

The small club only includes six members: Norah; her best friend Audre, an aspiring baker; their flamboyant friend Scott, who always knows the right thing to say to cheer the girls up on an off day; geeky Neil, who is hoping to read some sci-fi; Neil's quiet friend James, who seems to share a lot of common ground with Norah; and prissy Francesca, a gorgeous girl who is only interested in books like The Devil Wears Prada and Gossip Girl. Griffin, the hunky bookstore employee Audre has an ardent crush on, sometimes pops in on the meetings as well.

Despite the sense of connection that seems to develop between them almost the moment they meet, Norah finds it hard to believe that James could actually like her, so she implements a convoluted plan used by the heroine in Irene O'Dell's latest novel to arouse his interest. This plot basically involves making James jealous, and her schemes have great potential for humiliation. Besides, if James is as shy as Norah, which he seems to be, knowing that she has the suitors lining up would be just as likely to drive him away as make him express his own feelings.

James is my favorite character in the book, so I found myself very annoyed with Norah's method of trying to win him over. I'm painfully shy myself, so I completely get where she's coming from when, upon first realizing how much she likes him, she muses, “my crush on him was only going to lead to disaster when he inevitably rejected me.” Even though it seems at first that he might like her, she figures she must be reading too much into small gestures. None of her other crushes have ever gone anywhere; either she flubs up big-time with the guy she likes or, more often, he flat-out isn't interested. It's little wonder she's afraid to pursue James. But pursue she does, in an incredibly awkward, roundabout way that's bound to leave him terribly confused and has the potential for hurt feelings on a wider scale, particularly when she involves Audre's brother and Neil.

I'm not crazy about Norah's narrative voice, either. She's got a snarky, I-hate-the-world vibe to her, rather reminiscent of the main character from the TV show Daria. Some of her language is rather coarse, and it's tiring to hear her dismiss so many people for a variety of reasons. You would think someone who feels on the fringes would be a little more empathetic. Curiously, like the narrator in Scones and Sensibility, she seems to have a special loathing for Lord of the Rings fans. Are romance and fantasy not supposed to mix? I don't know, but that certainly didn't endear her to me. I also found it odd that, for a girl who claims no interest in fashion, she is constantly describing the clothes that people wear, mentioning name brands as she does so. More understandable is her constant dropping of references to indie bands, but this gets a little tiresome after a while, especially since I've never heard of most of them and can't tell if they're real or just inventions of the author.

The side characters are a mixed bag. I love Norah's scatterbrained parents, both of whom are brilliant scientists, but they only show up a couple of times, which is rather disappointing. Philippa is also an intriguing character, and I like the storyline involving her better than the one involving Irene O'Dell. There's very little actual book discussion that occurs, another disappointment, though I do like the way that a shared love of certain books sparks romance between two different couples.

This is a quick and fairly forgettable read. While I did get caught up in the potential romance between Norah and James and wanted it to work out for them, I often wanted to take Norah by the shoulders and give her a good shake. Some of her behavior is very frustrating, and she isn't as likable as Friedman intends her to be. While it's not too bad for a lazy afternoon read, A Novel Idea is not my idea of a great novel.

Lindsay Eland Pays Tribute to Montgomery and Austen in Scones and Sensibility

As a lifelong bookworm, I have long found it difficult to disentangle my own life from my favorite fictional realms, so I empathized readily with Polly Madassa, the 12-year-old narrator of Lindsay Eland’s Scones and Sensibility. The books she most cherishes become very real to her, and it’s not uncommon for her to be carried away on the wings of fancy. I can relate all too well to drifting off into a daydream and being jolted back to reality barely aware of my own surroundings, and it’s not uncommon for my friends and family to look askance at me and wonder what strange mental leaps led me to an outburst that, to me, seems perfectly on-topic. But Polly’s bookish eccentricity manifests itself in even more powerful ways.

Polly’s parents own a charming bakery in a quaint New Jersey seaside town. It’s one of those picturesque places that seem lifted right out of a painting by Thomas Kinkade, and I often found myself wishing I could step into the pages and take in the salty sea air and the aroma of freshly baked goodies wafting down the street, where familiar faces peek through the lighted windows of cozy houses. Polly is a reasonably contented young lady, but like the titular protagonist of Anne of Green Gables, she has a tendency to wish her own life could be as exciting as the characters about whom she reads.

So engrossed is she in the worlds of Anne and of Elizabeth Bennet, the spirited heroine of Pride and Prejudice that she speaks in lofty language befitting those books. It’s an impressive feat, really, and only in times of great excitement or distress does she lapse into normal speech patterns. I get the sense that by the time we enter her head – through narration that is just as high-fallutin’ as her dialogue – she’s probably been speaking like this for so long that most people are used to it. Few of her acquaintances bother to comment on it; those who do are mostly politely bemused.

In addition to her immersion in lofty language, Polly takes something else away from her two favorite novels: a desperate desire to see epic romance unfold before her very eyes. The summer stretches before her, and she needs a project. What could possibly be more thrilling than trying to help some of her nearest and dearest find true love? Yes, Polly is determined to become a matchmaker – never mind that her sister Clementine is happily attached to a classmate named Clint or that her best friend Fran Fisk’s father seems to have fallen head over heels for a woman he’s met on the Internet. Polly disapproves of both of these matches, and she won’t stop until she has found someone she deems suitable – and if bringing these lovebirds together takes a little underhanded scheming on her part, so be it.

Polly is a flighty child who is both sweet and self-absorbed. She feels that she is acting in the best interests of those whose love lives she is trying to arrange, but she never takes their own feelings into consideration. Somehow, she believes that she knows better than they do what is truly best for them. Because of this, she is a rather exasperating character. Her intervention on behalf of genial kite shop owner Mr. Nightquist, probably my favorite secondary character, and reclusive spinster Miss Wiskerton is sneaky but fairly harmless. After all, they are both lonely, and neither one has any other prospects at the moment. But her tactics with Mr. Fisk and Clementine truly had me shaking my head in dismay at her utter gall and cluelessness.

This is a light-hearted read that is filled with minor disasters but nothing irreversible. It helps that all of the characters are just so nice. The most disagreeable is Clementine, but then wouldn’t you be too if you were 16 and your little sister was doing everything in her power to break you and your boyfriend up? While Clementine’s personality bears no resemblance to that of Elinor, from Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, Polly’s reaction to her romance reminds me very much of how disappointed Elinor’s sister Mariane is in the apparent lack of passion in her suitor Edward. Where are Clint’s grand romantic gestures? How can she abide someone so mundane? (Though perhaps if Polly were not so averse to the realms of geeky fantasy – at one point she derides her male peers for their interest in Lord of the Rings – she might appreciate the sentiment behind the “I love you” – “I know” exchange between Clementine and Clint that she overhears, much to her disgust.)

Polly’s role as delivery girl for the bakery proves a great aid to her matchmaking plans, though she initially sees it as a hindrance. It gives her an excuse to drop in on several people, sometimes slipping them pastries from fabricated secret admirers. Meanwhile, she has a secret admirer herself – a young man whose identity does not remain in doubt for long. Brad Baker is an unassuming kid who has had a crush on Polly since kindergarten. Polly dismissed him long ago after his first amorous advances, but Brad has decided to summon up his courage and try again. One might think someone with Polly’s starry-eyed sensibilities would see something cosmically appropriate about the notion of a Baker courting a baker, but she just can’t get excited about the affections of a boy whose idea of romance involves wilted flowers and poetry containing the lines “I love you forever / Like a flower that stinks.”

She has a lot to learn about romance. Most importantly, she has to accept that not everyone wants the same things that she does. And if she takes a good hard look at her motivations, she may see that her machinations are driven as much by fear as altruism. She and Clementine have drifted from each other lately; finding her a new boyfriend could be a way to restore the bond she fears is fading. Fran’s mother fell in love online and headed for the hills; if Fran’s father continues his relationship with this woman who lives several hours away, perhaps he and Fran will take off too. It’s much safer for him to fall for someone locally.

Though this aspect of her personality isn’t really explored until later books in the series, Anne Shirley is quite the matchmaker herself, as is the titular character in Jane Austen’s Emma, which gets a cursory nod in this book. Anne’s matches mostly succeed; Emma’s are more disastrous. I have yet to read it myself, but from what I’ve heard of it, Emma seems likely to have influenced this book just as much as Pride and Prejudice, the only Austen novel that Polly herself has read. The literary nods here are fun, and the inevitable messes that ensue from too much meddling often have a comical edge.

Scones and Sensibility is a cautionary tale against getting too wrapped up in inner worlds and interfering in the personal lives of others, however good your intentions may be. It’s also a loving tribute to the works of L. M. Montgomery and Jane Austen. Polly’s antiquated narration may grow a bit tiresome at times, but fans of those novels will likely appreciate it for the homage it is. This mid-grade novel won’t attain the status of those classics, but if you’re in the mood for a little breezy romance with literary underpinnings, you may just find this book as tasty as a fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip muffin from Madassa’s Bakery.

Embrace Your Inner Took By Braving the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror

When I went to Florida recently with my aunt, uncle and cousin, one of the rides my aunt was most anxious to get me on was the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. We hit this park toward the end of our trip, and a couple of its big attractions were closed. As we entered the park, she expressed disappointment that it looked as though the Tower of Terror was one of the rides not in operation at that time. I confess I felt slightly relieved at the thought that I might not have to brave the Tower of Terror after all. I’ve been trying to embrace my inner Took lately, but the same old Baggins keeps bubbling up to the surface. In other words, I have a pretty wimpy disposition. I wasn’t sure if I could handle this infamous ride.

But it wasn’t closed after all, and since this is the most lauded ride in the park, I knew I had to give it a try. As we were getting in line, a woman came up to us and randomly handed us a trio of Fast Passes for the 200-foot-tall Tower of Terror, so we only spent about five or ten minutes in line, just enough time to catch a glimpse of some of the fancy props adorning the waiting area in this most unusual hotel. “It’s better that we don’t really have to wait,” Aunt Barb told me. “There’s less time to get nervous.”

She said that when she had ridden it before, the ride employees, all bedecked in snazzy bellhop uniforms, had gone out of their way to creep passengers out as much as possible beforehand. Our bellhops really didn’t have much to say, but Aunt Barb did a sufficient job of letting me know just how creepy the ride was. Plus there was the ever-present distant sound of screaming… Preceding the ride is a video in which Rod Serling introduces the curious circumstances of this hotel, which sets the stage well. As we approached the elevator where we would be getting our ominous tour of the hotel, we saw several families with young children. One parent exited the ride with her kids before getting on; another tried to convince them that it wouldn’t be so bad. It does strike me as a ride that’s best for older riders, though the personality of the child makes a difference.

The ride itself has a fairly small capacity, with several rows of seating and room for a few people on each bench. I sat between my aunt and cousin in the front row, and after buckling up and listening to a bit of ominous narration, my aunt and I clutched each other’s hands and held on for dear life. I can remember going to Cedar Point with my family and watching my dad and brother go on the drop tower ride at Cedar Point, which looked pretty terrifying to me. You can’t really see what’s going on inside of the Tower of Terror from the outside, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But with a name like Tower of Terror, I figured it had to be pretty scary.

The ride is very well done, definitely capturing the feel of a Twilight Zone episode as it slowly raises you and then drops you, giving you glimpses of the ghostly family said to be residing within the hotel before plunging you into darkness again. It’s quite disorienting, especially when you suddenly find yourself staring out at the park with bright sunshine streaming in after all the blackness of that elevator shaft and try to figure out how high up you are. There are several quick drops on the ride, and the first one startled me a fair bit, but by the time we got to the major one, I felt kind of used to it, and it barely freaked me out at all.

I’ve never really been on a ride like this one before, and my conclusion was that, for me at least, it sounded a lot scarier than it was. Not to say that it was disappointing; I was quite fine with not having a heart attack while I was on board. And when I’m nervous, I tend to be even more quiet than usual, which is something of a feat for me, but my aunt screamed enough for the both of us. We didn’t buy the photo they snapped of us on the way down, but it’s fun to sneak a peek at those on the way out. You see some pretty interesting expressions. The shop you enter after the ride ends also offers an array of other Tower of Terror souvenirs from t-shirts to pressed quarters, and the ride is clearly visible from several points in the park, so it’s easy to get a picture of it from a distance.

While I would never really call myself a thrill ride enthusiast, I seem to be finding that anxiety before the fact usually exceeds fear during the ride itself. Tower of Terror certainly delivers a thrill, but it’s not as chilling as I expected, and that’s okay by me. If I ever make it back, I’ll gladly ascend the elevator again.

Unimpressed By Tangled's Music? Give the Soundtrack a Few Spins and See the Light...

When Tangled, Disney’s 50th animated feature, came out last year, I heard a lot of negative comments about the music. While not all of the songs had the instant stickiness of some of those from the glory days of the Disney Renaissance, I thoroughly enjoyed each one, and I See the Light replayed in my mind – and on my computer – countless times in the weeks that followed. I read that master composer Alan Menken hoped to achieve a blend of medieval music and 1960s folk rock, which happens to be my favorite genre, so I guess I was predisposed to like it. At first, I did find the poppishness of some of the numbers, particularly Rapunzel’s first big song, a little discombobulating, but in the end, I think it really works, and in addition to the excellent character songs with lyrics by Glenn Slater, we’ve got an absolutely enchanting score from Menken that I could listen to again and again.

Something That I Want - I’m starting at the end here because I want to get the end-credits number out of the way. As has generally been the case with Disney movies since they began to include these radio-ready closers, I find it less engaging than the rest of the songs but still enjoy it well enough. Written and performed by Grace Potter, it’s a very upbeat song with peppy percussion largely provided by clapping. The song has a tween pop feel to it and covers the same basic territory as the movie’s big love song as she describes two people searching for themselves and finding each other, though it’s less romantic in nature and more generic. Still, it sums up the basic gist of the movie well. “I want something that I want, something that I tell myself I need, something that I want and I need everything I see.”

When Will My Life Begin? - This song starts off the album, and it’s a lively number whose guitar-heavy pop sound makes it sound almost as fit for radio as the end-credits track. The guitar riff reminds me a lot of Peter Gabriel’s Solsbury Hill. I don’t know if the homage was intentional, but the songs seem to have a thematic connection as Gabriel wrote that song while embarking upon a solo career and Rapunzel, played by the honey-voiced Mandy Moore, longs to break out of her monotonous life in the tower and forge a new path. Plus, we have the comparable imagery of city lights and the glowing birthday lights that Rapunzel longs to see. The manic feel of this song is an indication of all the pent-up energy Rapunzel has built up in 18 years of never being allowed to go outside, though I must say that for a gal who doesn’t get out, she certainly accomplishes a lot during the day. “And so I’ll read a book or maybe two or three. I’ll add a few new paintings to my gallery. I’ll play guitar and knit and cook and basic’ly just wonder, when will my life begin?”

When Will My Life Begin? (Reprise 1) - This track, half as long as the first but much more sedate, isn’t in the movie but nicely captures Rapunzel’s inner turmoil. She doesn’t want to be ungrateful, but she really would like to get out of the house. Slight guitar and violin accompaniment is all that’s needed here to accentuate her yearning. “I’ve got so many things I should be thankful for. Yes, I have everything except, I guess, a door…”

Mother Knows Best - As soon as I heard this song from stage veteran Donna Murphy, I thought of Master of the House from Les Miserables. Along with a similar tempo and melody in places, it’s a comical villains’ song that revels in taking advantage of others. Mother Gothel, the ancient woman who raised Rapunzel and requires her enchanted hair to survive, doesn’t openly gloat that she is taking advantage of her, but her smug tone is evidence enough. Murphy pours all her dramatic flair into this one as Gothel puts on a show for Rapunzel, swinging wildly between condescension, dire concern and crippling guilt inducement. If Marie from Everybody Loves Raymond could express herself in song, the results might sound very much like this. Here we quickly establish the twisted psychological hold Gothel has on Rapunzel as she swiftly switches between insulting and coddling her. The most Broadway-sounding of the tracks, with an extra section excluded from the movie. “Go ahead, get trampled by a rhino. Go ahead, get mugged and left for dead. Me, I’m just your mother, what do I know? I only bathed and changed and nursed you…”

When Will My Life Begin? (Reprise 2) - Now we’re back to Rapunzel for the final repetition of her longing-for-adventure theme. About halfway between the first two in length and tempo. Much of the track is simply instrumental and a good chunk of the lyrics is just a list of all the stuff she can do now that she’s outside. The first half is quite hesitant, but exuberance takes over once she reaches the ground. “Just smell the grass! The dirt! Just like I dreamed they’d be! Just feel that summer breeze – the way it’s calling me. For like the first time ever, I’m completely free!”

I’ve Got a Dream - Disney has a curious tradition of raucous bar songs. This lively number is firmly in the tradition of such rowdy sequences as The Happiest Millionaire’s Let’s Have a Drink on It, Pete’s Dragon’s I Saw a Dragon and Beauty and the Beast’s Gaston. Instead of one person being the focal point, this song really gets everyone in on the act as all of the Snuggly Duckling’s intimidating-looking pub thugs reveal the deepest desires of their hearts. Funny, sweet and oddly inspiring, the accordion- and piano-heavy ditty has a bit of a ragtime feel to it. In addition to Moore and Zachary Levi, we’re treated to the spectacle of Brad Garrett and Jeffrey Tambor waxing melodic. This track is pure fun. “Can’tcha see me on the stage performin’ Mozart? Tickling the ivories ‘til they gleam? Yes, I’d rather be called deadly for my killer show-tune medley ‘cause way down deep inside, I’ve got a dream.”

Mother Knows Best (Reprise) - Gothel returns with this reprise about half the length of the original. There’s a darker, more dangerous tone to the song this time around, and grandiose music surrounds Murphy’s scathingly sarcastic vocals, at one point echoing a key musical phrase in the score of Beauty and the Beast, which Menken also composed and nods to several times in the film. Gothel is beginning to feel truly threatened, so she ramps up the theatrics here as she plots a way to recover the source of her longevity. “Rapunzel knows best! So if he’s such a dreamboat, go and put him to the test! If he’s lying, don’t come crying. Mother knows best!”

I See the Light - Ah, my favorite track – and one of my favorite Disney songs ever. Even though you’re only getting half the effect here without the visual spectacle of the floating lights, this is an absolutely gorgeous song. The gentle acoustic guitar, occasional harp and magical woodwinds carry this duet of self-discovery and love to greater heights. I’ve heard comparisons between this and Aladdin’s A Whole New World, and they’re fitting, since both involve a young couple on an adventure, learning more about themselves and the world and falling for each other in the process. They also both rhyme “here” with “crystal clear.”

For me, though, the song that sprang to mind first was The Greatest Adventure, the Glenn Yarborough-sung theme to Rankin and Bass’s The Hobbit. “Who sits by the window will one day see rain,” that song cautions, spurring Bilbo Baggins out of the comfort of his home into the journey for which he is destined. When Rapunzel started in with “All those days watching from a window,” my mind snapped to attention. Moore breathes an air of innocence into Rapunzel’s words, while Levi infuses his with dazed regret. Both have experienced a revelation. It’s a powerful moment and a powerful song. I’m sad it didn’t win the Oscar. “And at last I see the light, and it’s like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light, and it’s like the sky is new. And it’s warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything looks different now that I see you.”

Healing Incantation - This shortest track on the album is very pretty with minimal accompaniment providing a slightly mystical touch. Rapunzel is used to singing this song repeatedly for the benefit of her “mother,” but here she initiates the action, and there’s an earnest solemnity in her voice as she works her magic upon her traveling companion. “Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine. Make the clock reverse; bring back what once was mine.”

Flynn Wanted - Now we’re into the purely instrumental tracks. This one is filled with a sense of frantic pursuit, with the brass particularly standing out and making me think of proud palace horse Maximus tracking his thieving prey like a bloodhound.

Prologue - Eerie and fairy tale-like as we hear Gothel recite the flower rhyme, with her voice growing progressively younger, followed by an adorable tiny tyke version of Rapunzel’s recitation. Short but sweet.

Horse With No Rider - Another song of hot pursuit, this one incorporates a sense of wonder and mystery and leads naturally into Escape Route, which includes a fun instrumental tribute to Mission: Impossible about halfway through and a jazzy lounge sound toward the end.

Campfire - This contemplative track includes hints of a couple of the main songs as Rapunzel and Flynn enjoy a quiet moment together. The Celtic-flavored flute makes an especially lovely addition here, reminding me a bit of James Galway’s work on the Return of the King soundtrack. Later on, meanwhile, this one puts me in mind of the prologue to Fellowship of the Ring.

Kingdom Dance - This very Irish-sounding number is pure joy, with sprightly flutes, fiddle and tambourine making it hard to resist getting up and dancing yourself. It’s just so lively, especially once the hand-clapping begins and the pace quickens. Kinda makes you want to break this one out at a large gathering of people.

Waiting for the Lights - Another quiet moment between Flynn and Rapunzel as she waits for the fulfillment of her long-held dream. Gentle guitar, harp and piano come together for this mellow, reflective track that erupts into a burst of glory when the lights finally begin to appear.

Return to Mother - This mournful track reminds me of some of the music in the season six LOST episode Across the Sea, which seems fitting since Gothel reminds me so much of the central character in that episode. Threads of antiquity and despair mingle in this disquieting piece.

Realization and Escape - Starting out quiet, this one explodes into grandeur as Rapunzel remembers the past so long hidden from her. The track turns dire as she confronts Gothel about her new knowledge, with ominous percussion having a particularly harrowing effect. Comical moments, particularly a few seconds of what sounds like a Russian dance, mark the final part of the track as Flynn makes his unconventional escape from prison with some help from a motley crew of lovable thugs.

The Tear Heals - The longest track by more than a minute and a half, this one reminds me very much of Transformation from Menken’s Beauty and the Beast soundtrack, which makes sense since the contents of the two scenes have so much in common. At about the four-minute mark, it also reminds me powerfully of one of LOST’s most tender friendship themes. Immediately after this, Rapunzel returns for a final shaky recitation of the incantation, followed by a thrilling orchestral return to I See the Light and concluding with a slow acoustic guitar rendition of the flower theme. This is the track that feels like the finale.

Kingdom Celebration - About half a minute shorter than Kingdom Dance, this one feels more whimsical, with the instruments comically alluding to the various pub thugs now living out their dreams. The melodious burst of sound at the end concludes the instrumental portion on a high note.

The Tangled soundtrack is one that, for me, anyway, seems to get better with each successive spin in the CD player. The rich fantasy tradition from which the movie itself draws is just as evident in the music, and I truly think this is right up there with the best that Menken has done. And that is saying a lot.