Squirrel's New Year's Resolution: Great for New Year's, Squirrel Appreciation Day or Anytime

It’s January 21st. How are you doing on your New Year’s resolutions? In Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution, written by Pat Miller and Kathi Ember, Squirrel encounters the concept of resolutions for the first time and is intrigued. She first hears about them on the radio, which sends her off to the library to do some research. What could a resolution be, and how does one go about making one?

I love that Squirrel’s first idea is to go to the library for answers. More specifically, she wants to consult the knowledgeable librarian, and Bear provides her with a useful definition: “a promise you make to yourself to be better or to help others.” That’s a limited but pretty decent explanation that people of any age can apply to themselves. Squirrel likes the idea, but she can’t think of anything specific that she can do, and she spends the rest of the book trying to figure it out, growing more discouraged as each friend she consults shares his or her resolution. Will she ever be able to find one of her own?

Resolutions are a great idea, a way to nudge you in the direction of doing something great that you may feel yourself too timid or lazy or unmotivated to do. But they’re just words, and making that list of goals – or just a single goal in the case of the characters in this book – is less important than taking action. It takes until the end of the book for Squirrel to hit upon a worthwhile resolution, but when she does, she realizes that she has already been carrying it out all day.

I like the story’s emphasis on helping other people, which is ultimately more of a focus than self-improvement, though that comes into play too, especially with one of the characters wanting to learn how to read. Squirrel is a very kind-hearted creature, and showing consideration for her friends just comes naturally to her. All of the characters in the book are lovable: wise Bear, encouraging Dr. Owl, enthusiastic Skunk, good buddies Mole and Turtle, friendly Rabbit and even grumpy Porcupine. They help demonstrate the value of having a diverse group of friends who can all learn from each other. The characters in this book are anthropomorphic but fairly realistic-looking. I especially like the detail on Squirrel’s bushy gray tail.

We’re three weeks into the new year now, but it’s never too late to start making an extra effort to be kind to others or to do something a little out of one’s comfort zone. Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution may be ideal for January, but its sweet celebration of friendship is worth lauding all year long.

Christopher Robin Assures Pooh, Piglet and Tigger of a Happy New Year

We’ve reached the beginning of 2011, which means that it’s also time for a new calendar. My experience working in a calendar kiosk tells me that it’s pretty common for people to wait until after Christmas to buy a calendar, since that’s when the discounts begin. Some even wait as long as February. In Happy New Year, Pooh!, Pooh doesn’t realize that he needs a new calendar at all. All he knows is that all the months are gone, a fact that has him perplexed, Tigger aghast and Piglet just plain depressed.

None of this sounds very happy, but the friends decide to commemorate the year behind them by making up a poem about it. There’s something special about each month, and Pooh suggests that they celebrate instead of mourning the months that are no more. Even Tigger gets in on the act, despite his insistence that poetry is definitely not what Tiggers do best. In fact, he shows a rather impressive grasp of internal rhyme when he talks about how he’ll miss “May-sy’s crazy daisy chains”.

Piglet contributes more than Tigger does, generally with a sad little sniffle, but Pooh does the bulk of the composing himself. He takes a typically humble Pooh approach to this, explaining, “You can’t think a poem, really; it just has to come to you.” This isn’t Milne-quality Pooh-etry, but it’s a nice basic way of acknowledging the passing of seasons. Children who read it may even be inspired to write their own odes to the months.

I’m not sure how it is that Tigger, Pooh and Piglet all managed to forget that they’ve experienced these months more than once, but time does have a funny way of getting away from you in the Hundred Acre Wood. Bears of Little Brain might not be able to keep many thoughts in their noggins, but Christopher Robin can always be counted upon to clear up any confusion. Just the cover illustration assures young readers that all will end happily.

This book is written in fairly simple prose when it’s not focusing on the calendar poem. I’d say about half the book is poetry and half is just regular narration and dialogue. The illustrations are colorful and pretty detailed. My favorite is either the full-page springtime picture, in which Pooh holds an umbrella to keep himself and a daisy-chain-making Piglet out of the rain, or the September illustration that shows Owl and Eeyore gazing over the edge of the Poohsticks Bridge. All of the major characters make at least one appearance, with the exception of Gopher, who often is left out, partly because he spends most of his time underground, partly because he’s a bit of an interloper to begin with. Still, I’ve always liked him.

But this is a cute book to ring in the new year with, inviting happy anticipation of the months to come.

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

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

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

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

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

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