A Bunny Goes for a Nighttime Stroll in Goodnight, Thumper!

One of my favorite classic picture books is The Poky Little Puppy, a Little Golden Book about a pup whose curiosity causes him to lag behind his siblings and explore the countryside, getting himself rather lost in the process. Another well-worn picture book, though one that I never actually read for myself until adulthood despite my familiarity with the title, is Goodnight Moon, a pretty much plotless book in which a youth bids goodnight to everything within view. That charming youngster happens to be a rabbit, which is the species of the main character in Goodnight, Thumper, a board book that reminds me of both classics.

Goodnight Thumper, written by Kitty Richards and illustrated by Lori Tyminski and Dean Gordon, is a part of the Disney Bunnies series of books for toddlers. Bambi has not appeared in any of the three Disney Bunnies books I’ve read, and my guess is that he is not a part of the series, though I can’t say for sure since there are a few I haven’t perused yet. The focus of the books, however, is Thumper, Bambi’s rambunctious best friend, and to a lesser extent his little sisters. Thumper is distinguishable from his sisters because he is larger and has gray fur, while their fur is brown and they have lashes on their eyes.

Thumper’s four sisters appear in two illustrations in this sturdy square board book. Before that, Thumper encounters a variety of wildlife, while he gets the first and final pages to himself. All but two of the pictures are two-page spreads, for a total of 14 pages. That’s pretty short, but it’s not bad for a book of this type, which is designed for very young pre-readers. The look of the book is a bit muted, since it takes place at night, but the colors still shine through effectively, and the animals depicted in it are adorable. There’s a fullness to the illustrations, particularly the characters, that distinguishes this from the movie; it has more of the artistic computer animated look of Tangled. I especially like the way that we can see all the hairs on Thumper and the other animals.

In my favorite illustration, Thumper gazes up into a tree, where a gray squirrel reclines on a branch, fast asleep and possibly unaware that a chipmunk has turned his tail into a bed. These furry fellows, too, are very lifelike while still retaining the basic look they were given in Bambi. Other animals depicted include a mouse and a family of ducks. The story is short but shows Thumper’s friendliness and yearning to explore as he comes upon various woodlanders and bids them goodnight.

One concern that some may have is that Thumper’s parents don’t seem to have any objection to his wandering the forest on his own. However, he does immediately come running when he is called. What’s more, he is considerably older than his sisters, so a little more independence seems warranted, especially in such a tranquil setting. Still, if children are old enough to understand what is happening in the story, parents might want to caution them against wandering off alone like Thumper does here.

That aside, Goodnight, Thumper is an adorable and well-constructed book with appealing illustrations and simple sentences that make for good naptime or bedtime reading for the very young. Given the choice between Goodnight Moon and Goodnight, Thumper, I think many might just find Bambi’s bestest buddy a little more engaging.

The Forest Is a Perfect Place for Bambi's Hide and Seek

Hide-and-seek is a beloved childhood game that tends to lose its luster after a while, at least if you only have a typical house and yard in which to hide. Under those circumstances, the hiding places run out pretty fast. But out in the forest, I would think it would be a game that would remain fun far longer since there are so many spots where one can crouch or sneak inside a crack or crevice. Bambi and Thumper are certainly having a good time of it in the Step Into Reading book Bambi’s Hide and Seek.

This Super Early book is designed for children who are just taking the first steps in getting used to the written word. Illustrator Isidre Mones is responsible for the bulk of the story, while Andrea Posner-Sanchez provides the simple words to which children can respond. In some cases, it’s only one or two words per page, while some pages include up to two sentences of several words each.

Many of these are repetitive; the bulk of the story involves Bambi looking for Thumper, and each time he finds another creature instead, we see the words “That is not Thumper!” or “You are not Thumper!” There’s a definite rhythm to the story as Bambi discovers a new potential hiding spot, unearths another animal and realizes that Thumper is someplace else. The format is very similar to the Eric Hill book Where’s Spot?, but that is a lift-the-flap book and this isn’t. In fact, flaps would have been a fun way to make this book more interactive, but then it wouldn’t have fit in with the Step Into Reading Series.

I’ve never seen a Bambi book with hokey illustrations; it seems this natural setting inspires greater artistry. While Bambi, Thumper and the other forest creatures are not quite as detailed as they are in the movie or the Disney Bunnies line of books about Thumper, they are adorable, and the backgrounds are lush and quite lovely, especially the purplish sky in the two-page spread in which Bambi counts while Thumper runs off to hide. All told, the book features 14 pictures spread across two pages as well as one final illustration on a single page.

I’m not sure if this is an oddity of the copy I got or if it’s across the board, but while for the most part, the colors are very bright, the second spread is washed out, with Bambi particularly looking pale and almost ghostly compared to the robust browns on the rest of the pages. That small complaint aside, however, Bambi’s Hide and Seek is a vibrant book with a simple narrative that can draw young children in and perhaps inspire them to play a game of their own.

Thumper Finds a Friend

Making friends is easier for some than for others. Thumper, the gregarious rabbit from the Disney classic Bambi, is always eager to make new friends, but sometimes his forceful personality can be a bit overwhelming. In Thumper Finds a Friend, a picture book in the Disney Bunnies series of books for young readers, he is stymied when his friendly advances are seemingly rejected by a bashful hedgehog whose name we never learn. What could the trouble be?

My assumption is that this series, or at least this particular book, is meant to take place before Thumper takes up with the deer and skunk who will become his best friends. Both Bambi and Flower are a bit shy during their first encounters with new playmates, so I would think Thumper would be used to that quality by then. What’s more, his sisters are the only other young animals keeping Thumper company throughout the book, and I get the impression that this is typical. Being a big brother is exhausting work; no wonder he’d like a friend outside his own family.

The illustration style in this book is the same as in the Disney Bunnies board books; there’s just more room to work with here. We have the same detailed backgrounds, the same slightly pastel look, the same CGI appearance that makes the rabbits almost seem to leap off the page, with thousands of their tiny hairs standing out clearly. The team of Lori Tyminski, Maria Elena Naggi, Giorgio Vallorani and Doug Ball do an excellent job of making the rabbits and hedgehog, along with curious squirrels, chipmunks and birds lurking nearby, absolutely adorable.

The main difference between the board books and the picture books is that these are much longer. Thus, we have a lot more pictures, and there’s time to develop an actual story. Most pages still don’t have a lot of text, but the sentences are bigger. There’s also a fun bit of internal rhyme in the description of the bunnies at play: “One bunny wriggled and one bunny slid, one bunny giggled and one bunny hid…” Mostly, however, Laura Driscoll writes in sunny prose easily digestible by young readers.

The purpose of this book is to demonstrate the fact that not everyone has the same type of personality. The hedgehog in this story is a perfectly nice creature; she just is a bit slow to open up to strangers. The tale advocates not giving up on a potential friendship just because your overtures don’t seem to work at first. At the same time, it urges giving the stranger some space to come the rest of the way. Don’t take offense, and don’t overwhelm. Those are suggestions that even adults might do well to heed.

Cultivating friendships is one of the most important tasks in which people can immerse themselves. Thumper Finds a Friend will help kids to make a good start on this important venture.

Spring Is In the Air For Thumper in the All Atwitter Ornament

This weekend, Hallmark stores around the country will unveil the new ornaments for 2011. For the next half a year, I will gravitate toward the cheerful, expansive display every time I enter a Hallmark. I love those ornaments. However, since there are so many different ones tempting me, I usually save myself the burden of decision-making by waiting until after Christmas, when everything is so much cheaper and it’s all been so picked over that there’s considerably less to choose from. Plus, I always figure there’s the possibility that I might get one for Christmas. Rare indeed is the year when I don’t buy or receive at least one new Winnie the Pooh ornament, but those are hardly the only ones that catch my eye.

In a post-Christmas Hallmark excursion in 2007, I was headed out of the store when I spotted an ornament I hadn’t seen earlier, either that day or in the season as a whole. Entitled All Atwitter, it featured Thumper, the exuberant rabbit from Bambi, on the receiving end of an amorous advance. Since Thumper has always been my favorite character in that movie, I found it hard to resist. While it didn’t look much like a Christmas ornament to me, I actually considered that a plus; I figured I would buy it and put it out before Valentine’s Day and leave it up past Easter. It definitely has a springtime feel to it.

The name All Atwitter refers to the notion of being twitterpated, a concept that the wise Friend Owl explains to Bambi, Thumper and Flower when they express their bewilderment at the bizarre behavior of their fellow woodland creatures now that spring has arrived. Rarely has romance seemed so silly as in that iconic segment of Bambi, and if you were to rank all the animated Disney couples , something tells me that Thumper and his unnamed ladylove would come in pretty close to the bottom. Well, they are rabbits, after all; it doesn’t take a lot of provocation to arouse interest. But they certainly seem to be enjoying themselves.

This ornament has a flat, circular base that’s about two and a half inch inches in diameter. The top of the base is fairly rounded and covered with lush grass and bright pink and yellow flowers. There can be no doubt that the setting is spring. Thumper stands on the right, a dreamy look on his face; his eyes are half-closed, and his mouth is open into a goofy grin that reveals his buckteeth. On the left, the paler female rabbit with blushing cheeks and lashes on her closed eyes leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek. This is a magic ornament, with the simple but charming mechanism of Thumper living up to his name and thumping his foot at the turn of a small green knob on the side of the base. From ear tips to the bottom of the base, the ornament stands about three inches tall.

On the other side of the base is a long brass hook holder. It arches gracefully over the two, coming to rest with the small loop dead center. It’s easy to imagine that there is a sprig of mistletoe there; the placement would be perfect. The ornament isn’t heavy, but it’s on the large side, so it tilts a bit on the tree, but if you’re like me, you won’t put it on the tree anyway. I’ve got more Christmassy ornaments than I have room to hang, so I leave this one for the spring, and because it sits flat so nicely, I simply put it on the piano or a nearby shelf.

If you have fond memories of Bambi or have experienced the peculiar rush of twitterpation yourself, All Atwitter is an adorable ornament. You just might want to wait until after Christmas to break it out.

Trixie Trades Knuffle for Knuffels in Mo Willems' Knuffle Bunny Free

Prolific and much-lauded writer-illustrator Mo Willems has created several popular series, including the Pigeon books and the Elephant and Piggie books, but his Knuffle Bunny trilogy holds an unusual place in his canon because it is best read in order. Each book finds the main character, Trixie, at a different stage of her childhood, with her world expanding considerably each time. In the first book, she remains in her neighborhood and interacts only with her parents, and she takes her first plunge into comprehensible speech. In the second, she has mastered verbal communication and spends her days at preschool among other children her age, eventually making her first close friend outside the family. In the third book, she is a confident elementary school student off on an international voyage to see her grandparents. From a trip to the Laundromat to a trip to Holland, her adventures are steadily getting bigger.

Trixie remains just as attached to Knuffle Bunny, her dowdy stuffed rabbit, as she was in the first volume, so of course, she brings him along with her for the big trip, counting on having him to cuddle with during her very first airplane flight. Unfortunately, as anyone who has read the first two books knows, she’s not so skilled at hanging on to her treasured toy. On this occasion, she won’t be able to instantly retrieve him; she leaves him behind on the plane, and by the time she realizes what she’s done, the plane is gone, and Knuffle Bunny is off for a voyage around the world. Will she ever see him again? And how will she get along without him in the meantime?

Willems once remarked in an interview that the word Knuffle is an adaptation of Knuffel, the Dutch word for snuggle, so it seems quite fitting that the last book should find Trixie in Holland, snuggling with her Oma and Opa in her beloved bunny’s absence. Most of the book takes place there, which makes it educational for children as well as entertaining. As with the previous books, this is a mixed-media effort, with black-and-white photographs serving as backgrounds for colorful hand-drawn characters. Kids can wander the Dutch streets with Trixie as she eats at a café and poses in front of an authentic windmill, and they can gasp along with her at the garish pink Dutch-spouting robo-bunny her grandparents buy her in an effort to ease her malaise at losing Knuffle Bunny, seemingly for good this time.

Additionally, in a four-page fold-out spread, Willems offers a peek at some of the other places Knuffle Bunny might end up in his travels, showing him in eight very different locations. I wish that Willems had identified these places in a note in the back, but kids can still have fun trying to figure out what country they are seeing; it just might take a little more work for parents to confirm the accuracy of their guesses.

While all three books contain a mix of the humorous and the emotionally resonant, I would say that the first book is primarily funny, while the second is equally touching and comical. I would deem the third book the least funny of the three and the most poignant. We don’t know precisely how old Trixie is here; I would guess at least seven, and possibly as old as ten. She’s old enough to have a real awareness of how her life is changing, and that scares and saddens her. However, it also excited her, and by the end of the book, she has come to embrace the new possibilities that come with being a big kid.

Most of the pages in this book have a beige background, and while a few characters are drawn directly on the page, most are set within a photographic panel, with a majority of pages having between one and three. As always, Willems does a lot with a little. One of my favorite parts of this book is the series of panels in which Trixie, having realized that her bunny is gone, heads off to inform her father, who is busy enjoying a pleasant chat with his dad, a charming fellow with a thick gray beard, square spectacles and a bald head. In four pictures, we see him go from relaxed to on-edge to staring at Trixie to assuming a hopeless face-palm position. “Trixie didn’t tell her daddy that Knuffle Bunny was gone,” Willems writes. “She didn’t have to.” This is especially striking given that the central conflict of the first book hinges on Trixie’s inability to communicate with her dad and his obliviousness to the source of her distress. Just as Trixie is growing up, her dad is maturing as a father and learning to be more attuned to his daughter.

Like the first two books, Knuffle Bunny Free, a sweet, heart-tugging play on words, includes an epilogue, and this one drives home the fact that the Knuffle Bunny series will end with number three. I’ll admit I got a little teary as I read those last four pages, which are written directly to the real Trixie as Willems imagines what the next decade or two may hold in store for her. The book proper also ends with a letter, leaving the reader with a real sense of the power that words have to connect people. Perhaps children who read this may be inspired to begin correspondences of their own: with their grandparents, with each other, with distant pen pals they have yet to meet. They might even decide to write the author himself, which he encourages by posting his mailing address in the FAQ section of his website, www.mowillems.com.

The Knuffle Bunny trilogy is the continuing story of a pudgy plush rabbit that is always getting lost. It’s the story of two adults, especially one overwhelmed dad, learning how to be better parents. But mostly, it’s the story of Trixie, a girl who is gradually growing older and taller and wiser and kinder. The first two are pretty much unavoidable; the second two are just a shade easier to achieve when children read such edifying books as Mo Willems’ Knuffle Bunny series.

Show and Tell Causes a Crisis in Knuffle Bunny Too: A Case of Mistaken Identity

In the thoroughly charming mixed-media Caldecott Honor picture book Knuffle Bunny, Mo Willems introduces readers to a fictionalized version of his family, at the heart of which is Trixie, a little blond-haired girl with a beloved stuffed bunny. In that book, she is a mere toddler too young to form thoughts into coherent words, which drives the minor disaster around which the plot revolves. In Knuffle Bunny Too: A Case of Mistaken Identity, Trixie is older and fully capable of comprehensible speech. She’s old enough to attend preschool, where a new Knuffle kerfuffle is about to unfold…

Trixie loves her Knuffle Bunny as much as she ever did. She is exceedingly proud of this well-worn toy that is beginning to look a bit like the Velveteen Rabbit. When she is allowed to bring him to school for Show and Tell, she can scarcely contain her excitement. Then disaster strikes. A classmate arrives with the exact same bunny! This is grounds for instant hatred. And you thought it was bad when two seniors wore the same dress to the prom! Trixie and Sonja are so incensed with each other that their teacher confiscates both bunnies, returning them later. The feud dissipates. But later that night, when Trixie is alone in her bed trying to snuggle her way into dreamland, she makes a traumatic discovery. She has the wrong bunny.

While accidental toy-switching is not something I have experienced, it seems like a very believable scenario, as does the fierce sense of jealousy and hurt pride that set up the circumstances under which the switch took place. Trixie is our protagonist, and most kids reading this book will probably have read the first installment already, so we see Sonja largely through her eyes. This means that initially, she doesn’t come across so well. In fact, she looks downright mean as she argues with Trixie about the correct pronunciation of “Knuffle” – perhaps a sly nod to existing debate by readers on this very topic.

As before, the backgrounds in the book are black-and-white photographs with occasional hand-drawn elements and color highlights. Set against a pale blue backdrop, the boxes pop on the pages, sometimes one large illustration, sometimes as many as three. They are populated with figures that have a flat look to them but nonetheless feel vibrant and full of personality. This is especially true of Knuffle Bunny himself, with his big black nose, buggy eyes and rotund middle, as well as Trixie and Sonja and their frazzled fathers.

In both books, we get a scene of Trixie’s dad frantically running somewhere to save the day for his darling daughter; in this book, it may be even funnier because Sonja and Trixie have more than just a bunny in common. Each girl has a dad who is willing to go above and beyond the call of duty to restore tranquility to his daughter. That’s not to say they rush into superhero mode without some grumbling, but the realization that both dads are undergoing major inconvenience only makes their actions more endearing.

One defining trait of Willems’ work is his minimalism. While the illustrations here are busier than in some of his books, capturing the hustle and bustle of New York City life, the story remains very simple, and he uses as few words as possible to tell it. Sometimes the picture does the talking all by itself, rendering the narration scarcely necessary, as when we first see Sonja with her bunny in a series of panels that zoom further in on him each time. As I look at these pages, I imagine a series of suspenseful violin shrieks such as one might find in a thriller. Meanwhile, placing Trixie directly upon the blue page instead of inside an illustration box accentuates the way her world has just been shaken.

As wonderful as the original book is, I would argue that Knuffle Bunny Too is even funnier and sweeter than the first, and while it’s loaded with kid appeal, much of the humor will probably resonate most strongly with parents. While a child might take away from the book a desire to use commonalities as a way to build friendships instead of rivalries, adults will also see it as a tribute to the crazy things parents will do for their kids – sacrifices that, in many cases, will sail right over the kids’ heads.

It’s odd to think of a book of this length having an epilogue, but setting the final two-page spread slightly apart from the rest just increases the impact of what’s probably my favorite bit of the story. It’s one of the parts that adults will probably appreciate most. They may also be quicker to pick up on Willems’ references to his own work throughout the book, including nods to Pigeon, star of several acclaimed tales, and Leonardo the Terrible Monster. But children who loved Knuffle Bunny will definitely want to pick up Knuffle Bunny Too, which is probably the most relatable of the trilogy, since the protagonist is old enough to be a peer this time and since it occurs under much more normal circumstances than the third book, which is equally entrancing. The presence of two Knuffle Bunnies may be problematic for Trixie and Sonja, but it sure is a treat for us.

Trixie Has Trauma and Dad Has a Headache in Mo Willems' Knuffle Bunny

When I was a wee one, I had a small stuffed sea lion named Seymour that I got as a souvenir from Sea World. I loved that little pinniped, and I took him everywhere, wanting him to experience all of the excitement of life right along with me. One time, when we were on a car trip, I decided to dangle him out the window so he could feel the fresh air zooming past his whiskery face. My grip was not the greatest. By the time the shock wore off and I hollered that we had a sea lion down, poor Seymour was miles behind us. We tried going back to find him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Needless to say, it was a rather traumatic event.

In Mo Willems’ Knuffle Bunny, a Caldecott Honor book and first in a series of three starring a young girl and her battered plush bunny, Trixie faces a similar crisis. Thankfully, she does not lob her beloved bunny out of a car doing 60 on the highway, but she does manage to leave him behind in a most inconvenient (and high-traffic) place: the Laundromat. What’s worse is that Trixie has not mastered the art of human speech yet, so when she tries to alert her father to the terrible situation, all he hears is a cranky toddler in dire need of a nap. What’s a poor lass separated from her best friend in the world to do?

Knuffle Bunny is a cute story whose impact increases when one sees it as the first of three tales, which chart Trixie’s growth into a girl who may be in her double digits – or nearing them, anyway – but still has a hard time holding on to her favorite toy. Her early life is punctuated by three major bunny-losing incidents, and one wonders how many others might have occurred in between. It’s comical but heart-wrenching as well, since when you’re that age, few things seem more tragic than losing your most beloved stuffed plaything. In the same way that Pixar’s Toy Story trilogy touched a nerve with kids and especially those who remember what it was like to be a kid, Willems is tapping into something pretty universal here.

While many of Willems’ books, including the Pigeon series and the Elephant and Piggie books, feature anthropomorphic animals, Knuffle Bunny never speaks. He simply rests in Trixie’s arms or flops around in the washing machine, big white eyes staring blankly out at the world. He has an endearingly frumpy quality reminiscent of the Velveteen Rabbit at his most loved, but this is not really his story. It’s Trixie’s, and maybe even more than that – at least in this first book – it’s her parents’ story as they react to the crisis. Mostly, we see Dad, with his bright orange hair, thick glasses, and indulgent smile that fades into a grimace as Trixie goes ballistic over her abandoned bunny. Aside from waving her family off at the beginning, Mom only comes in toward the end, and the two-page spread depicting her greeting to her weary husband and devastated daughter is perhaps the funniest moment in the book.

Trixie, Knuffle Bunny and her parents are drawn in a flat, cartoonish style with bright colors, and any other people they pass have a similar look to them. Meanwhile, the backgrounds are all black and white photography, which gives the book an unusual look and increases the realism. It’s easier to see what a likely scenario this is when you’re looking at real places. It’s also fun to try to read the writing in the photographs, particularly the dire warning In the Laundromat: “Not Responsible for Clothing or Any Other Articles Left on Premises”. The story is written with simple language and large kid-print letters against a sea foam background. Most sentences are pretty basic, though some of them stretch across several pages, and Willems makes some of the dialogue pop out more by placing it in dialogue bubbles.

Knuffle Bunny enjoyed such great success that Willems was commissioned by the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts to adapt it into a musical, and some versions of the book include a CD of the original cast recording, which features music composed by Michael Silversher and sung by Stephanie D’Abruzzo, Michael John Casey and Erika Rose. Twelve songs tell the tale, which lasts about half an hour, so obviously we’re able to delve a bit more into the characters of exuberant Trixie, her goofy, overly confident dad and her really-has-her-act-together mom.

The songs are charming, with humor and emotional appeal that should span the generations. The seventh track, Really, Really Love You, is the heart of the tale, in which Dad confesses that he doesn’t always get things right but no matter what, he loves his little girl. He gets all the funniest moments too, waffling between cocky and harried as the communication gap between him and his daughter causes him frustration. Probably the best showcase for the three together is Tricky With Trixie, the second track, which demonstrates the challenges of life with a two-year-old. In addition to the fun mini-musical, the final track on the CD features Willems reading the book to and with his daughter, the real Trixie, with his wife Cher reading Mom’s dialogue. A very sweet family effort.

While the CD is a wonderful added bonus, the greatest charm lies in the simple, stripped-down story Willems presents through the book. Knuffle Bunny is touching, funny and destined to be a classic.

Margaret Wise Brown's Goodnight Moon Is Simple and Soothing

One of the most memorable components of family-friendly TV series The Waltons is the inevitable scene in which the lights go out and various members of the extremely large family call out goodnight to each other. It’s not as flashy as the farewell that Maria and the Von Trapp children prepare for the party guests in The Sound of Music; it’s just very basic, and a way of helping us remember all of those names. Kind of like Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon.

This is a book I’ve seen spoofed many times, most memorably on Animaniacs and The Simpsons. I knew there’s also at least one picture book parody of it as well. It’s easy to poke fun at because there’s really not much to it. This is simply a going-to-bed ritual, assessing one’s surroundings and, instead of counting sheep, drifting off into dreamland by bidding goodnight to all the assembled objects.

The main character, never mentioned by name, is a little bunny in striped pajamas who is tucked into a very cozy-looking bed. Clement Hurd is the illustrator of this book, and he must have really liked bunnies. He was also the illustrator of Brown’s The Runaway Bunny, which was published first, and these could almost be the same bunnies, except that Brown refers to the woman in the room with the youngster as “old,” leading me to suspect that this is his grandmother or perhaps a nanny. Could still be the same child, though. Unlike in Runaway Bunny, there is no mention in the text of the species of the characters, so I can’t help wondering whether Brown knew that this was going to be another bunny book when she started, or if the illustrations took it in an unexpected direction.

There’s not much of a story here. The child reading, or being read to, is meant to identify with the going-to-bed bunny, who tries to point out every object in his room and, lest anyone feel left out, say goodnight to each one. Hence, the story has a very circular feel, since the objects are first listed and then said goodnight to. The list is mostly the same at beginning and end, though broken up more in the goodbyes, so that the painting of three bears in chairs yields “Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs”. There are some exceptions; Little Rabbit does not say goodnight to the telephone, the first item mentioned in the book apart from the room itself, and he does say goodnight to socks and clocks, neither of which is mentioned before. Meanwhile, the final line, “Goodnight noises everywhere,” seems a little out of place, since every other “goodnight” is so visually-oriented.

Of course, there are things in the room that the bunny never mentions at all, since this is a rather fancy nook he has. He could, if he so chose, say goodnight to the rug, to the bookshelf, to the giraffe and elephant, to the fireplace. But then he’d have to find a way to make it rhyme. Children reading along might be inspired to catalog the objects in their own rooms, perhaps even arranging them in a rhyming pattern on paper so that they can undergo a similar ritual at bedtime. Mine might look something like, “Goodnight mirror, goodnight books, goodnight art on silver hooks. Goodnight Charlie, goodnight Pooh, goodnight elves and hobbits, too.” Well, I have a lot of stuff in my room, but you get the idea. Incidentally, I’m adding in commas here because it just feels weird without them, but the only punctuation marks to be found in this book are a dash at the beginning and quotation marks around the word “hush”.

Goodnight Moon is a classic book for the very young, a book from which I suspect most parents are all too eager to graduate. Oddly, I don’t think it’s one my parents ever read to me; maybe even as a two-year-old I craved books with a little more pizzazz. I like Runaway Bunny much better than this book, but I can’t deny it has a certain charm, and who am I to question the enthusiasm of generations of toddlers?

Celebrate Squirrel Appreciation Day With Mel Boring's Rabbits, Squirrels, and Chipmunks

Did you know that today is Squirrel Appreciation Day? I didn’t, until my mom informed me of that fact a couple of days ago. She knew that I would want to take the opportunity to recognize these furry little marvels. While my ideal way of doing so would be to spend the day at State College feeding peanuts to the insatiable population of gray squirrels there, that will have to wait for another day. Instead, while I keep an eye on the window on the off chance that one of the cuddly rodents will wander into our yard, I’m celebrating by reading and reviewing Rabbits, Squirrels, and Chipmunks, a book in the Young Naturalists Field Guides series, written by Mel Boring and illustrated by Linda Garrow.

Oddly enough, when I put this book on hold at the library, it wasn’t primarily because of the subject matter. I was interested in it first and foremost because I had discovered that Boring is the father of Jeremy Davies, who so magnificently portrays the frazzled quantum physicist Daniel Faraday on LOST. He has written several books for children, most of them having to do with nature; his other titles include Birds, Nests, and Eggs, Caterpillars, Bugs, and Butterflies and Flamingos, Loons, and Pelicans.

As you might guess from the title, this book is divided into three sections. At the beginning of each section is a page that discusses some of the basic characteristics of each group of animals, along with some of the things that differentiate species from each other. After the general introduction, there is one page each on several individual species. Each species page contains the following sections: What It Looks Like, What It Eats and Where to Find It. There’s also an Interesting Facts box on each page.

Finally, before moving onto the next category of animals (or the end of the book) Boring includes a craft or two. There’s a rabbit paperweight, just for the fun of it, but the others are more utilitarian: a rabbit refuge, so rabbits can hide out in your yard; a squirrel nut-ball, to entice squirrels to stop for a snack dangling from a nearby tree; and a chipmunk swimming pool, which encourages chipmunks to take a dip in a shallow basin and possibly squabble over nuts, should you deign to float them in the center as Boring suggests. I’m especially eager to give the nut ball a whirl and see if I get any takers.

Each page is fully illustrated, with colorful depictions of the various species. While photographs might have been nice, the pictures are very effective in drawing attention to certain aspects of each animal’s life. They are good complements to the writing, which is simple but full of useful information, along with a dash of humor here and there.

Rabbits covered include the Eastern Cottontail, Swamp Rabbit, Marsh Rabbit, Brush Rabbit, Pygmy Rabbit, European Rabbit, Black-Tailed Jackrabbit (which is actually a hare), White-Tailed Jackrabbit, Showshoe Hare and Cape Hare. All of these rabbits can be found somewhere in America. The European Rabbit is the most common in the world, and its members live in large groups, digging burrows in the ground. The Pygmy, unsurprisingly, is the smallest. White-Tailed Jackrabbits have two coats - one in summer and one in winter. Swamp Rabbits spend most of their lives swimming, and Cape Hares are escape artists.

The squirrel facts are just as interesting. Boring discusses the Gray Squirrel (which is so common here Pennsylvania), Fox Squirrel, Red Squirrel, Douglas’ Squirrel, Abert’s Squirrel, Kaibab Squirrel, Flying Squirrel, Rock Squirrel, Thirteen-Lined Ground Squirrel and Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrel. Gray Squirrels have to chew constantly to wear down their teeth, which grown six inches a year. Fox Squirrels are the largest tree squirrels. Abert’s Squirrels are able to sit completely still for two hours as they hide from predators. The Kaibab Squirrel is distinguished by its bright white tail, which stands out from the grayish-brown fur that covers the rest of its body. Flying Squirrels don’t actually fly, but they’ve been known to glide as far as 300 feet. And the Thirteen-Lined Ground Squirrel is a very distinctive-looking creature, with long brown stripes punctuated by small beige spots, giving it the appearance of a flag.

Boring explains that chipmunks are all types of ground squirrels, so squirrels really do get the bulk of this book to themselves. He discusses the Eastern Chipmunk (also a common sight where I live), Townsend’s Chipmunk, Merriam’s Chipmunk, Cliff Chipmunk, Uinta Chipmunk, Lodgepole Chipmunk, Yellow-Pine Chipmunk and Least Chipmunk. Most of these species look pretty similar but live in different areas. While most species are brown, Merriam’s Chipmunk is gray. The fur coloration on Townsend’s Chipmunk varies depending on how close they are to the coast. The Eastern Chipmunk’s heart beats 700 times per minute. Cliff Chipmunks swing their tails back and forth instead of up and down, and Uinta Chipmunks love to chow down on cactus seeds, stuffing up to 150 in their mouths at a time. When it comes to hoarding food, however, the champion has to be the Yellow-Pine Chipmunk, which has been known to store tens of thousands of edible items in its burrow.

If you know a child fascinated by these animals - or if you’re intrigued yourself - Boring’s book is loaded with interesting tidbits. Sadly, this book was published one year before Squirrel Appreciation Day was instituted, so there’s no mention of that, but with so many different types of squirrels - and rabbits - to investigate, any day is a good day to express one’s appreciation for these remarkable creatures.

The Runaway Bunny Can Never Escape His Mother's Love

One of my goals for this year, inspired by a Christmas gift - 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up - is to read as many classic kids’ books as I can and then review them. I was shocked when my perusal of this volume revealed that I had read only about 200 of the recommended books. And I call myself a kid-lit expert! One of the first books I took out of the library was The Runaway Bunny. Written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd, it tells the gentle story of a young rabbit who decides he wants to run away from home and the mother who is determined to follow him every step of the way.

Mama Rabbit is quick-witted and creative as well as warm-hearted; no matter what device her son thinks up as a means of escape, she has an equally potent method of pursuing him. If he becomes a rock on a mountain, she becomes a mountain climber. If he becomes a sailboat, she becomes the wind. There’s a natural progression to not only her responses to him, but also his to her. When she opts to become a gardener, he decides that he will be a bird and fly away; when she becomes the wind, he joins a circus and soars off on a flying trapeze. It’s a charming battle of wits.

What makes it all the more endearing is the illustrations. The basic format of the book is the youngster’s declaration on the left page and the mother’s on the right, each accompanied by a black and white drawing, then a full-color two-page spread illustrating the latest pair of images. The drawings are cute, but it’s the paintings I really love. One shows Mama Rabbit with a fishing rod, enticing her little rabbit-fish with a carrot for bait. In another illustration, Little Rabbit sprout glorious wings and flies to a welcoming rabbit-shaped tree. Probably my favorite illustration shows Mama Rabbit as the wind, blowing her little boat-boy, with his enormous sail ears, to safer waters.

The progression of the book reminds me of the song Hush, Little Baby, as this mother is prepared for any number of eventualities. If this happens, she’ll handle it; if that happens, she’ll make that work, too. It also makes me think of Mother Bear in the Little Bear stories. She, too, has to use quick thinking sometimes in order to keep up with her imaginative son. And I can’t help thinking that the lovely You Are My I Love You and its sequel, You Are My Miracle, which feature pairs of metaphorical statements describing a parent and child in relation to each other, may have been influenced by this book.

If this all sounds a little too lovey-dovey for your youngster, Michael Rex has written Runaway Mummy, a rather ghoulish alternative that matches this story page for page with high-octane figures: sea monsters instead of a fish and fisherman, a ravenous plant and a gorilla instead of a crocus and a gardener. But for tiny tots who still love to snuggle, it’s hard to beat the cozy comfort of Runaway Bunny.

A Robin Comes to Roost in Annie and Snowball and the Cozy Nest

A few years ago, I discovered Cynthia Rylant, and I quickly discovered that she is one of the most prolific children's book authors in the business. She seems to be constantly publishing something. One reason she writes so often is that she has several different series to juggle, and some have even spawned spin-off series. In the case of Henry and Mudge, the easy reader chronicles of a young boy and his enormous dog, there are two spin-offs: Puppy Mudge, designed for very early readers, and Annie and Snowball, which aims at the same grade level as Henry and Mudge but is geared more toward girls.

Annie and Snowball and the Cozy Nest is the fifth book in this series. It stars Henry's cousin Annie and her fluffy white rabbit Snowball. Of course, because Annie now lives next-door to Henry, the stories in this series tend to involve all four pretty heavily. Annie's dad and Henry's parents also make occasional appearances. This particular volume has a springtime focus. In four short sections, Rylant lets a simple story unfold. There is a robin building a next on Annie's porch, in a secluded spot that can only be seen easily from the swing. Everyone, especially Annie and Henry, is excited to watch the bird's progress, and when five blue eggs appear inside, anticipation increases. Babies are on the way! But oh, what a long time to wait!

Like the other books in this series, this one is designed for independent readers who are still mastering the skill, so there's a bit of complexity to the writing but it's still pretty basic. Rylant sneaks some facts into the story, sometimes with some comical help from illustrator Sucie Stevenson. For instance, there's a silly picture of an elephant in a nest that is dreamed up by Annie, who figures Mudge could furnish enough fur to house an elephant. But Rylant paranthetically points out that elephants don't really build nests. Annie's dad, meanwhile, informs his daughter that she mustn't touch the eggs, though she is welcome to observe them.

There are a couple of small issues I had with the book. First off, it begins with Henry's birthday party, but Rylant only makes brief mention of this as a happy thing occurring in the spring. It seems like a bit of a letdown to show Henry and Annie at his party with a pile of gifts on the floor and cake on the table and not to linger there long enough even to open one present or take one bite of cake. I'm trying to remember if there is a book about Henry's birthday that takes place after the point in the Henry and Mudge series when Annie moves next door. Maybe this is a sly attempt to make this book a jumping-off point into the previous series.

The other slight complaint I have is that when the robins are finally born, they don't look like newborn robins. They're basically just smaller, fuzzier versions of their mother. I've seen baby robins, and when they first hatch, they're not cute and fuzzy. They're gangly and mostly unfeathered, and their beaks are freakishly enormous. Stevenson's depiction isn't very true-to-life.

Otherwise, though, this is a nice installment in a charming series. As usual, ungainly Mudge provides a few laughs, and the children reading Annie and Snowball and the Cozy Nest can learn a lesson in the value of patience right along with Annie and Henry.

My Top Ten Movies of the '70s

The 1970s were just before my time, so I didn't see any of these in the theater, but I easily got caught up in their magic from the comfort of my own home.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) / Pete's Dragon (1977) - Both of these movies are live-action films that creatively incorporate animation.  In the first, it's in a lengthy sequence of the movie that takes place underwater and then on an island, where the apprentice witch played by Angela Lansbury goes with the children under her care and their new acquaintance Emelius, portrayed by the always-amusing David Tomlinson.  A fun film with enjoyable songs, especially Portabello Road, which I always think of when I read about Harry Potter's first trip to Diagon Alley.  In the second, everything is live-action except the title character, otherwise known as Elliot.  He's the most unintimidating dragon you've ever seen, except when hard-luck orphan Pete is in danger.  The movie has a bittersweet ending, but it's mostly happy.  Mickey Rooney, Red Buttons, Shelly Winters and Jim Dale give hilarious performances, and Helen Reddy beautifully sings Candle on the Water, one of my all-time favorite Disney songs.

Fiddler on the Roof (1971) / Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) - Norman Jewison directed both of these musicals.  The first is about Russian Jews trying to uphold honored traditions while facing oppression in the tiny town of Anatevka.  The songs are outstanding, and Topol is excellent as the robust, philosophical Tevye, who is deeply devoted to God and to his daughters.  The second is filmed in the Holy Land, which is pretty neat, though some of the directorial choices are a little strange, like the costumes that sometimes seem more suited to hippies than ancient Jerusalem dwellers and the tanks that Judas imagines trying to plow him down at one point.  Still, the songs are amazing in this unconventional look at Holy Week, told entirely in song and focusing on Judas's perspective. The extremely energetic Carl Anderson is exhausting to watch as Judas, and Barry Dennen makes a big impression in his few scenes as the conflicted Pilate.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) - I enjoyed Tim Burton's remake of this classic very much, but I'll always have a special place in my heart for the original. Gene Wilder makes a wacky, manipulative Wonka, while Julie Dawn Cole and Roy Kinnear are the most memorable child-parent pair as horrendously spoiled Veruca Salt and her cowed father. My favorite character, however, is Charlie's inept teacher, Mr. Turkentine, hilariously played by David Battley. I also love the Oompa Loompa songs and the vignettes at the beginning of the movie showing what ridiculous behavior Willy Wonka's contest has inspired.

Herbie Rides Again (1974) - My favorite of the Herbie sequels, and I may even prefer it to The Love Bug, though I do miss Buddy Hackett's gold-hearted mechanic, Tennessee. Grandma Steinmetz is just as lovable, though, and has plenty of spunk as she stands up to the comically villainous Alonzo Hawk, played by a deliciously over-the-top Keenan Wynn. This movie has nothing to do with racing; it's just Herbie, with some help from some other curiously animated objects and a couple of human friends, helping sweet Mrs. Steinmetz save the firehouse where she has lived for so many years. A very funny movie.

Young Frankenstein (1974) - As is this, though it's a little more adult-oriented. I watched it for the first time when I was about eight, and I laughed myself silly; I watched it again in high school and couldn't believe how many naughty double entendres were in it. They sailed right over my head at the time, which is one nice thing about this movie; kids can enjoy it as a goofy horror spoof and probably won't pick up on the innuendo. Gene Wilder goes from strictly level-headed to demented in his performance as the scientist trying to resist the associations of the family name, and Marty Feldman is a hoot as his hunchbacked assistant Igor, while Peter Boyle, now most associated with cantankerous Frank on Everybody Loves Raymond, makes a sympathetic monster. Usually I'm not a big fan of black-and-white, but in this case I think director Mel Brooks definitely made the right call.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - Throughout high school, several of my friends told me I needed to see this famous spoof. My English teacher even showed it in class one day, but it was the one day that term I happened to be absent. So it wasn't until after high school that I finally saw it, and I understood what all of the fuss was about. This, too, is full of adult humor, and some of it is more overt than in Young Frankenstein. There are also a couple of scenes, particularly one involving a vicious bunny, that could be traumatizing to youngsters. But as an Anglophile who loves the Arthurian legends, I couldn't stop laughing at the antics of King Arthur and his Knights, and when it comes to sheer silliness, this one gives Airplane! a serious run for its money.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977) - Given my great fondness for Winnie the Pooh, I couldn't leave this off the list. This humble Disney masterpiece is a combination of three earlier shorts, in which Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's front door, Piglet loses his house in a dreadful rainstorm and Rabbit plots to rid the Hundred-Acre Wood of the menace that is Tigger. These cozy tales have only the mildest amount of peril, and they paved the way for my all-time favorite cartoon, The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Star Wars (1977) - This first installment in George Lucas's trilogy is full of classic characters and scenes. Mark Hamill is an endearingly whiny Luke in the film's early moments, while Carrie Fisher's Leia is bossy and Harrison Ford's Han Solo is cynical. They've all got some growing to do, and their first adventures together help them accomplish that. The trash compactor scene is a compact example of the perfect balance the movie strikes between action and comedy. The special effects aren't groundbreaking anymore, but they still draw us into that world, though not as much as iconic characters like R2-D2, C-2PO, Chewbacca, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader.

Watership Down (1978) - "It's about bunnies," said LOST's Sawyer in a concise description of the novel from which this animated film was adapted. But that doesn't really begin to cover it. It's about survival, migration, faith, industrialism and all sorts of other things, and while the characters are most definitely rabbits, they have a lot to say about the human condition. It's a surprisingly dark movie, but it's lovely nonetheless, especially the segment that features Art Garfunkel singing Bright Eyes, a somber reflection on grief.

The Muppet Movie (1979) - The musical buddy comedy assembles all of the major players from The Muppet Show for an adventure explaining how they got together. For Muppet fans, this is a must-see. Full of that great mix of humor and heart that makes Jim Henson's creations so irresistible, the movie also features comedic performances by the likes of Steve Martin, Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Richard Pryor and Orson Welles. And of course, the songs are terrific, especially Kermit's banjo-assisted soliloquy, The Rainbow Connection, the quintessential Muppet anthem.

Sibling Cooperation Makes Max and Ruby's Christmas Tree "Beautiful!"

When I happened upon Jingle Bell Christmas, featuring the Backyardigans, I felt rather hip in my knowledge of programming popular among preschoolers despite my lack of cable television. But then I read Max and Ruby's Christmas Tree and realized that these were also characters on Nick Jr. and that I had never heard of them. The only author credit the book provides is that this simple story featuring cartoonish rabbits is based upon characters created by Rosemary Wells.

Max and Ruby are siblings, and like most siblings, they don't necessarily agree on everything. I don't know where their parents are while the pair of young rabbits attempt to decorate the tree themselves, but boy, are they in for a surprise when they return! Sophisticated Ruby, who seems to be several years - or in rabbit terms, months, I suppose - Max's senior, wants the Christmas tree adorned with a distinguished display of traditional ornaments, while Max insists that his more Halloweenish toys - a snake, spider and alien, gummy worms and vampire teeth - are "Beautiful!"

What to do, what to do? Why, compromise, of course! While there is a bit of bickering, Ruby soon decides to let her little brother have his fun. They can both have it their way, and though the tree will be unconventional, it will be a testament to both their individuality and their partnership. I find that spirit of cooperation refreshing.

The pictures in this large board book are bright but unremarkable, and the same goes for the text, which is limited to about three sentences per page and set aside in a white box with words that coordinate with the color of the page's background. Next to each text box is a little circle containing a small picture, and these little peepholes are probably my favorite aspect of the book, at least visually. Also fun is the cover, which is puffy plastic rather than the same rigid material of the rest of the book.

As Christmas tree decorating tales go, this one isn't anywhere near the most engaging, and I'd say the Backyardigans have it beat in the Nick Jr. neighborhood, but Max and Ruby's Christmas Tree is still a cute book, especially for brothers and sisters who could use a reminder about how much fun can be had when they get along.

11 Pairs of Outstanding Animal Movies

I am an animal lover, so movies about animals have always been among my favorites. Here are ten pairs of outstanding animal flicks - eh, make it 11 for good measure. There are just way too many good ones out there...

Two Brothers / The Bear - If you're looking for outstanding nature footage, either of these will do. Both are efforts by director Jean-Jacques Annaud attempting to instill in audiences a respect for nature. The Bear barely has any dialogue at all, leaving the bulk of the action to the bears, while the few humans in the film don't have much to say. Two Brothers involves a lot more people, but once again the main focus is on two creatures of the same species making their way in the world when their well-being is threatened by humans.

Old Yeller / The Yearling - Tearjerkers. Just about everybody must know by now how Old Yeller ends, and The Yearling isn't any better. But in the meantime, they are great stories about powerful friendships between boys and the animals they love, and about how life forces those boys to grow up too quickly.

Bambi / The Lion King - In the first, we get haunting hints of humans, while in the second, there are no traces of people to be found. The animation on both films is gorgeous, displaying all the glory of two very different natural landscapes and its inhabitants. Both feature fairly carefree young princes that lose a parent, drastically change their living arrangements, fall in love with childhood playmates and take on the leadership roles they were born to play in closing scenes that echo the films' dramatic openings.

The Shaggy Dog / The Incredible Mr. Limpet - Pure silliness about people turning into animals. The former has more ridiculous sight gags than you can toss a stick at, and its sequels are similarly ludicrous. I haven't seen the recent Tim Allen adaptation, but despite advances in special effects, I can't imagine it provided more laughs than the original. The latter, meanwhile, boasts Don Knotts, who's always good for a laugh, and Don Knotts as a fish is even better. I'm always a fan of half-animated, half-life action films, and this one is lots of fun.

Beethoven / 101 Dalmatians - I like the original 101 Dalmtians just fine, but the new version tickles my fancy even more. It's just the right amount of slapstick for a modern-day Disney movie - not quite as relentless as in years past, but still plenty of well-executed gags, not to mention some very sweet moments, all those adorable puppies, and Hugh Laurie. And Beethoven may have gone a little overboard with the sequels, but the first one is a blast, another throwback to classic Disney family films; Dean Jones even shows up as a not-so-competent villain. Grand fun.

The Rescuers Down Under / Cheetah - Down with poachers! One of these is animated and the other live action, but both feature valiant struggles to save endangered creatures. One is a bald eagle, the other a cheetah. The latter is an inspiring story of friendship and determination complete with wonderful footage of Africa, while the former features dazzling animation of the Australian outback and its dazzling array of creatures, not to mention one of my all-time favorite Disney villains, voiced by George C. Scott.

Andre / Free Willy - Both of these inspirational movies are about children who are outcasts in one way or another bonding with aquatic mammals. In each case, the animal is the child's closest friend, yet the time comes when they realize that it is in the best interests of the creature to depart. Both films thus come to a conclusion that is both exhilarating and sad.

Fly Away Home / March of the Penguins - Two very different types of migration, both very inspiring. The first is more of a traditional movie than the second, telling the true story of a girl and her father who use ultra-lights to help guide a flock of geese to their proper home at the changing of the seasons. The second is more a general story of survival that repeats itself again and again. It's a documentary, but that doesn't signal boring, since the cinematography is exceptional and Morgan Freeman's narration has all the right shading to help us see the beauty in these creatures forced to cope with such a forbidding environment.

The Incredible Journey / Homeward Bound - Same story, two different versions. The first is a lot closer to the real story, and the movements of the animals on their epic trek are compelling enough on their own that there's no need to imagine dialogue for the intrepid pets. But when they do talk, in the second film, it adds another, albeit not quite as realistic, dimension to the tale. The dynamics of the three very different personalities add to the fun and allow for some truly heartwarming moments.

Watership Down / The Rats of NIMH - Two fairly dark animated films about small animals - rabbits and rats - trying to start over after their lives are fundamentally altered by humans. The somber tone of each is alleviated by a raucous bird providing comic relief and a gorgeously soothing theme song.

Babe / Charlotte's Web - And we mustn't forget about the pigs. These two films feature beautiful cinematography and state-of-the-art computer animation techniques allowing real animals' mouths to speak in synch with human actors. Both movies are adaptations of classic children's books about porkers who evade the slaughterhouse thanks to a combination of sweet-naturedness and very good friends. The latter ends on a bittersweet note, but the former's conclusion is just plain satisfying, in no small part thanks to James Cromwell's outstanding portrayal of the taciturn farmer who sees the possibilities in an unassuming little pig.

Well, I think that's more than enough. I was supposed to list ten and instead I mentioned 22. And I've no doubt seen another 22 that are worth a look. What can I say? Movies and animals. They just go together so well...

Benjamin Bunny Could Learn a Thing or Two From His Cousin Peter's Mistakes

I come from a very eclectic family. My grandparents (George and Martha) are hippos. My dad (Ronald) is a clown. And my brother (Benjamin) is a bunny. I am reminded of the latter because of the approach of Easter, which always brings Beatrix Potter to mind, both because several of her books involve rabbits and because one Easter, my brothers and I received a collection of six tiny Potter books put out by BP, for whatever reason. Perhaps so we wouldn't forget that the "B" stands for "British"? Or because the powers that be were amused that BP also signifies "Beatrix Potter"? Whatever the case, we got a lovely little collection that Easter, and among those six books was The Tale of Benjamin Bunny.

It's interesting that Benjamin is referred as a bunny while his cousin Peter is introduced to us as a rabbit. I imagine Potter did this for two reasons: because "Benjamin Bunny" has such a nice alliterative ring to it, and because she wanted to emphasize the fact that Benjamin is younger. As such, he does not have the benefit of Peter's wisdom, acquired after his harrowing ordeal in the adventure bearing his name, so he is cheerfully headstrong in contrast to Peter, who spends most of this book in a state of anxious misery.

The mission that the two rabbits soon undertake is the recovery of Peter's clothes, which are hanging on the scarecrow where Mr. McGregor put them after Peter lost them in his garden. Peter ought to be overjoyed when he hears from Benjamin that the McGregor's are off for a day-long outing, since this should allow him ample time to retrieve his wardrobe, but his reaction is one of petulance. He glumly remarks that he wishes it would rain. If it did, it would ruin the fun of his human nemeses, but it would also likely crush his chances of getting his clothes back, and even if he succeeded, they would be all wet. Unless it didn't start to rain until he and his garments were safely home.

At any rate, Peter's caution and lack of enthusiasm for the task ahead of him lead Benjamin to take control, and he cavalierly strolls through the garden, nibbling on lettuce and wearing Mr. McGregor's very silly (and much too large for a bunny) hat, which was used to complete the scarecrow's ensemble. But his education is about to begin when he hides himself, along with Peter and a kerchief full of onions for Peter's mother, underneath a basket in order to escape the farmer's cat, only to have that cat hop onto the basket and remain there for hours.

The language Potter uses is a bit quaint, so not all the words will be familiar to contemporary children, but this is just a point of interest rather than a pitfall. The strangest of these words is probably "tam-o-shanter," which is the proper term for Mr. McGregor's floppy Scottish wool cap with a pom-pom in the middle. The corporal punishment Benjamin endures at the paws of his severe father could raise objections, though it is also his father who saves him from his life-threatening predicament. I also find it interesting how Potter puts herself into the story somewhat by stating that she once bought some of Mrs. Rabbit's hand-knit items at a fair.

Her illustrations are, as always, incredibly detailed. The rabbits look perfectly realistic except for the fact that they are wearing clothes. I especially love the expressiveness of their faces, particularly in one illustration in which Benjamin sits down next to his cousin, who is shuddering sadly while wrapped up in a handkerchief. He looks so comforting in this picture, and his one exposed eye is fully open, seeming to exude calmness, while Peter's is narrowed with crinkles around the edges, making it look as though he's been crying.

In the end, Peter and Benjamin are both good little bunnies who have learned the consequences of doing not-so-good things. The Tale of Benjamin Bunny is a charming story, whether or not it's Easter and whether or not you happen to have a brother named Benjamin.

These Bunnies Are Dumb, But the Book's Smarter Than It Claims

Easter is in two and a half weeks. 'Tis the season to see bunnies. Lots and lots of bunnies. Furry brown bunnies, pink marshmallow bunnies, pure white bunnies that makes clucking noises as they lay Cadbury eggs. It means bunnies at the library too, on prominent display throughout the children's area. Bunnies in books like Sue Denim's The Dumb Bunnies.

Now, these pale, pinkish rabbits with gigantic buck teeth and strange wardrobes are not especially cuddly as bunnies go. Thanks to the illustrations of Dav Pilkey of Captain Underpants fame, they look more deranged than adorable, but that's okay, since their story is just one nonsensical moment after another. It's a re-worked version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. You could almost say Goldilocks and the Three Hares... But these aren't hares. They're chubby rabbits with mushy brains. And they don't mind living inside a book whose cover bears a shiny sticker that reads: "This book is TOO DUMB to win an award."

Well. It is pretty silly, that's for sure, but it's calculated silliness, a barrage of sight gags and puns with the same creativity behind it as Airplane!, Monty Python and other similarly over-the-top displays of comedy. Momma spends the duration of this book in pointy, blue-framed glasses and a very unflattering old-fashioned bikini. Poppa wears nothing but an extra-large pair of red-spotted briefs. Baby, who is supposedly the dumbest of the bunch, looks normal by comparison in a pair of red shorts.

Like the bears, the bunnies fix some porridge for themselves and face a similar temperature problem. Poppa sticks his too-hot porridge in the oven; Momma blows on her too-cold porridge; Baby dumps his perfect porridge down his pants. And then they go out for a day on the town, during which time Little Red Goldilocks (who does have gold hair but no red clothing) breaks in and makes a mess of things, to the perverse delight of the bunnies.

What I really like about this book, more than the silly subversion of the classic story, are the portions of the illustrations that must be read. Books in the library, for instance, and signs on the bottom of the lake. As entertainingly absurdist as Denim's text is, Pilkey seems to be the greater wit, giving us warnings about peanut butter fish along with the cautions against jellyfish, having the bunnies eat from a bucket of Kentucky Fried Carrots and displaying books with titles like The Condo That Jack Subleased, The Second to the Last of the Mohicans, Moby Richard and Green Eggs and Tofu.

The Dumb Bunnies is a funny book with humor that works on two levels. Some of the gags may be slightly off-putting to those with demure tastes, but most will find something to laugh at here, so despite valiant attempts to convince us otherwise, this book is not so dumb after all.

Jackalope Is a Hoppin' Good Tale

I'm in a frosty state of mind right now as Erie shudders under the weight of four days' worth of snow. I have several solutions for counteracting this coldness: huddle under lots of cozy blankets, whip up a steaming mug of makeshift butterbeer and read books depicting a warm climate. Following this plan, then, I think I will leave Bear Snores On for another day. Instead, I'll peruse the pages of Jackalope, because the deserts of the American Southwest are a far cry indeed from the snow-laden streets of Pennsylvania.

This quirky tale was written by "two silly sisters," Janet Stevens (who also illustrated) and Susan Stevens Crummel. Its armadillo narrator references the authors at the very beginning and end of the book; the note on the inside flap indicates that this story grew out of the tales they heard of the mythical creature when they were growing up.

I've always found jackalopes rather charming if pointless creatures. They exist only post-mortem, since somebody got the brilliant idea to mount a pair of antlers on a stuffed hare's head. One tends to see these oddities in bars and taverns; I'm thinking that whoever came up with the concept might just have imbibed one too many. At any rate, Jackalope purports to tell of this mythical beast's origins, though as a story of explanation for an entire species, it falls flat since the tale indicates that only one ever existed, and he wasn't born that way.

As a morality tale, however, it makes sense and bears considerable resemblance to Gertrude McFuzz, Dr. Seuss's story about a vain bird getting more than she bargained for when she learns of a way to sprout extra feathers. In this case, the main character is a jackrabbit (who, for some reason that's never really explained in the story, wears enormous nerdy glasses). This furry fellow is tired of being overlooked; he wants to be so fierce that all his neighbors will fear him. But his faithful magic mirror insists that Jack just isn't the scary type. So Jack takes matters into his own paws and wishes, as fervently as he can, for a few extra features - like fangs, horns and claws.

This being a fairy tale, Jack's wishing is rewarded with an appearance by his fairy godrabbit, who can grant him any one of the things he asked for, but nothing more. So after deliberation, he settles on a pair of horns and is so eager to bask in the admiration of his fellow desert-dwellers that he doesn't bother to stick around for the disclaimer that lies will result in rapid horn growth. But those cumbersome antelope horns are quite the hindrance when a coyote shows up, eager for jackrabbit stew. How will Jack squirm his way out of this one?

The narrative voice is engaging, sounding like a grizzled old grandpa spitting tobacky from a rickety rocking chair out on the porch. (Actually, it's a lawn chair, according to the illustrations, but I like my rocking chair better...) The armadillo's appearance is enhanced with a pair of stylish black and gold cowboy boots and a brown cowboy hat. Jack is unclothed aside from the aforementioned glasses, which he stops wearing once he acquires the horns, but his fairy godrabbit wears a purple and green dress featuring a white skirt covered in a bright array of vegetables. While she claims to hate it, it's a very eye-catching garment, and I think it's lovely in its ludicrousness.

Breaking up the regular story, which is told in prose, are small sections of verse in the narrator's colloquial voice. You could almost read through just the poetic parts, skipping the paragraphs, and come up with a story that makes sense, but pretty significant gaps are filled with the prose part of the tale. The combination makes things interesting, and both styles are done skillfully enough that reading this book is enjoyable whichever style you prefer.

Jackalope is an offbeat and clever little tale. While it doesn't hold water as an explanation for an extinct species, it's does a perfectly good job of demonstrating the closing sentiment: "So when you're out gazing at night at the sky / And you happen to see the first star, / Why, don't you be wishing for something you're not - / It's better to be who you are!"

Love Makes You Real

A story that has been treasured for years, this gentle tale will most certainly be enjoyed for many years to come. Often found among the Easter books when the holiday rolls around because the main character is a rabbit, The Velveteen Rabbit is all the more appropriately placed because it tells how love gives new life.

The Velveteen Rabbit is a lovely stuffed bunny given to a young boy for Christmas. He lives in the nursery, where his only friend is the ancient, ragged Skin Horse. The Skin Horse explains to the rabbit that he, unlike most of the toys in the nursery, is real because he was once loved by the boy's uncle. He describes how, when you are loved, you begin to grow tattered and torn and you no longer look beautiful to most people. But by the time you are real, none of that matters anymore. To the one who loves you, you are the most beautiful thing in the world, and once you have become real, no one can ever take that away.

The Velveteen Rabbit dreams of the day when he might become real, and on one magical night, quite by accident, the boy is reunited with him. They become constant playmates, and soon the boy will not settle for any other toy. The Velveteen Rabbit doesn't notice as his fur grows shabby and his eyes lose their polish. He has become real.

That year, the boy becomes gravely ill with scarlet fever. The Velveteen Rabbit remains at his side at all times, but when the boy is on the road to recovery, he is still infested with germs and sentenced by the doctor to be tossed into the burning barrel. And as the rabbit awaits his demise, still grateful for the chance to have been real, a miracle occurs that will leave tears in your eyes and a new song in your heart.

This book can be enjoyed equally by adults and children. It is a lovely story whose moral never grows old. Pick up a copy during this season of growth and renewal. You may never be the same.

A Work of Art

Watership Down, the glorious novel by Richard Adams, soared to fame when it was written, and rightly so. It is a poignant tale of a group of rabbits' struggle to find a home after theirs is destroyed to make room for a shopping mall. Through their struggles, we are offered a glimpse into an entirely new world, complete with its own language and mythology. It was a tall order to try to convey this world on film with but an hour and a half to spare. But this movie managed beautifully.

Its realistic animation bathes the rabbits in an aura of authenticity which can't be found in the wisecracking Bugs Bunny or even in the forest-dwelling Thumper. Sticking closely to the plot and leaving out as little as possible, this masterpiece transcends the ordinary, interweaving the rabbit mythology so intricately with the plot that the entire movie is wreathed in shadows of otherworldliness.

This effect is completed by the ever-angelic voice of Art Garfunkel, whose haunting melody "Bright Eyes" accompanies Fiver's ruminations about death when Hazel is shot by a farmer. Other than the beautiful ending, which carries on in dialogue what the song begins, this segment is my favorite part of the movie. Robed in mysticism, Artie's richly echoing voice sweetly sings of the mysteries of death, using rich natural images.

The simple line "There's a fog along the horizon" never fails to send shivers down my spine, and you can't help but wonder along with Fiver, "How can the light that burned so brightly suddenly burn so pale?" In deference to the rabbits' graciousness upon finding Watership Down ("Oh, Frith on the Hills! He made it for us!" "He may have made it, but Fiver found it."), I feel compelled to point out that while no other singer could have handled the song so masterfully, the song would not have been in existence were it not for Mike Batt. Way to go, Mike!

Few animated films achieve what this film has, and its beauty will leave you stunned. But there is a good deal of darkness as well, and images of rabbits screaming out in agony as they are trapped underneath a newly-laid parking lot may be too frightening for younger children. Nor will they be comforted by images of dogs tearing out the throats of rabbits or the fearsome rabbit General Woundwort ripping rebels to shreds. For older children and adults, however, this is not a film to be missed.