Carly Simon Encourages Music-Making in The Boy of the Bells

I’m very familiar with Carly Simon as a singer-songwriter, but it wasn’t until recently that I discovered that she has also written children’s books. One of them is The Boy of the Bells, a charming story set in the far north town of Noel. The village is so far north, in fact, that it is the first stop on Santa’s annual trek, and it is the task of the local bell ringer to signal midnight, the time for the journey to begin.

Ben is a young boy whose grandfather usually has that job, but this year, Grandfather Juniper’s mind is on other things. Ben’s sister, Miranda, has stopped speaking. It’s been months since anyone heard a peep out of her. The situation has him so upset that he asks Ben to do his job for him. Though he is proud and excited to have been given such an important job, Ben worries about Miranda as well and misses their conversations. Hence, he decides to use his position to summon Santa early and see if he can suggest anything that might help her.

Simon’s prose has a lyrical quality to it, particularly when she describes the dreams of the villagers on the night before Christmas. Embedded in the story are lessons about responsibility and musicianship; it should probably come as no surprise that a woman who has made a career out of music would make a voice and musical instruments the focal points of her story. The “make your own kind of music” theme plays out especially well.

Speaking of that Cass Elliot song, I couldn’t help thinking of LOST as I finished reading this book. That’s because it introduces a major oddity and never explains it. Why did Miranda suddenly lose her voice? Santa tells Ben, “I can’t always tell you why some things happen the way they do. There are many mysteries in the universe.” This seems like a line from Across the Sea, the much-reviled episode that attempts to answer several of the show’s remaining questions but ultimately introduces just as many. For the most part, those hoping for concrete answers came away disappointed, and I suspect that may be the case in this book as well.

However, even though she doesn’t tell us what happened to Miranda to make her stop speaking, Simon weaves an endearing tale of sibling love and creative expression. Additionally, each of the women dedicates the book to her son and his grandfathers, accentuating the sense of family connection within its pages. Margo Datz’s illustrations have a Scandinavian flavor to them, and the full-page paintings, framed with wooden borders, are filled with details that give readers a very strong sense of place, particularly with the clothing that the characters wear.

Unexplained afflictions aside, The Boy of the Bells is a well-crafted book that recognizes the beauty of music and family, and I look forward to reading Simon’s other forays into children’s literature.

Number 1200: Carly Simon Serves Up Tender, Folksy Goodness With Into White

It's been a great year for new albums. Last May, I snatched up Paul Simon's Surprise; in the fall, it was Clay Aiken's A Thousand Different Ways and Weird Al's Straight Outta Lynwood, and January brought Art Garfunkel's Some Enchanted Evening. Then along came my birthday, and with it a gem I'd overlooked: Carly Simon's Into White. I've always enjoyed her music but never included her in my list of indispensable artists. Having had an opportunity to fall in love with this gentle, folksy album - the most tender I've encountered since Garfunkel's Songs From a Parent to a Child - I may just have to amend that...

Into White - This Cat Stevens title song is a sleepy anthem to simple beauty. Simon's husky vocals are complemented by the harmonization of Jimmy Parr and rich instrumentals that occasional seem to betray a Celtic influence.

Oh! Susanna - One of those songs just about everybody in America probably knows. The mystical-sounding flute and persistent kalimba add a unique flavor to a song whose familiarity and simplicity could make for a dull track. Instead, it's ideal for both singing along or just sitting back and listening appreciatively.

Blackbird - A smooth, heartfelt rendition of a Lennon and McCartney classic. The guitar provides a nice undertone, and the chorus of "ooooh"s works well as a bridge, but it's Simon's vocals that really carry this empowering melody.

You Can Close Your Eyes - A gorgeous piano-driven track, penned by James Taylor, Simon's ex-husband. Their children Ben and Sally harmonize with her on this one, and they sound gorgeous together. I'm struck by how much Ben sounds like his father; I'm powerfully reminded of James' rendition of this song, which closed out his concert in Erie last year. It's a very intimate moment on the album.

Quiet Evening - A new composition for this album, it's a contemplative, slightly sultry song. It doesn't grab me as much as some of others, but it's a nice ode to the need for a little personal time now and then, and Simon says in her liner notes that it's her favorite song on the album to sing.

Manha de Carnaval - A Brazilian guitar-driven track in which the only lyrics are "la la la". Despite the lack of words, it's emotionally affecting, with her deft vocals mostly evoking wistfulness.

Jamaica Farewell - One of my favorite tracks on the album, it's a breezy number whose tone is slightly regretful but mostly one of golden nostalgia. Simon's voice is especially quiet here, though never to the point that it is overpowered by the guitar and other instruments, and she and Ben harmonize nicely as a segue into the next song.

You Are My Sunshine - Another of those camp song favorites. This version is much slower than I'm used to, giving it a soulful vibe. The piano, which reminds me a bit of Lean on Me, is what really sets this apart for me, along with the barely audible guitar on the outro, which is reminiscent of waves lapping upon a shore.

I Gave My Love a Cherry - Another very slow arrangement of a famous folk song. I've never been that crazy about this one, but Simon does a nice job with it, and I like the strings that offset the vocals.

Devoted to You / All I Have to Do is Dream - I wasn't familiar with the first song, which makes up the main part of the medley, but it's a very simple, lovely song, which Simon delivers with great gentleness. When the second song, which I know quite well, kicks in atop the remnants of the first, it's a beautiful meshing of voices, with Ben once again complementing his mother beautifully.

Scarborough Fair - Simon and Garfunkel! Yay!! This gorgeous Celtic arrangement of the song they made famous doesn't include their counter-melody. Rather, it has a lovely selection of woodwinds and a couple of verses Simon (Carly, that is) added to the mix. In her liner notes, she credits not only my favorite duo but also the often overlooked Martin Carthy, who showed Paul the song in the first place. Nice gesture, and very nice arrangement of a song I love.

Over the Rainbow - Fairly straightforward and piano-driven, and I think I like it better than the version in The Wizard of Oz. Then again, I never was a big fan of Judy Garland...

Love of My Life - This is the only Simon original of the album, a quiet ode to love with guitar backing. The lyrics are cute, as she lists all sorts of rather random, silly things that she loves, from avocados to Lucy, but none of them as much as the addressee of the song.

I'll Just Remember You - Written by David Saw, who also wrote Quiet Evening, and Ben Taylor, it's a charming, simple song that closes out the album on a note of appreciation. It's a love song, but it could also work as a message of thanks to her fans, helping keep her afloat through the troubles that come with being a famous singer-songwriter. At any rate, it's a pleasant end to the album.

A nice bonus with Into White is the fact that Simon comments on each of the tracks in the liner notes, which isn't something I see a lot. It's fascinating to get a little idea of what she was thinking as she chose and recorded these songs, and her comments are insightful and often very funny. The whole album has a humble feeling to it, as she's setting out to do justice to music she admires, shining the spotlight on others as much as herself. It's a far cry from You're So Vain, but Into White is most definitely an album worth embracing.

Roo's Heffalump Movie a Glorious Return to the Hundred-Acre Wood

On my twelfth birthday, I got a copy of the original Winnie-the-Pooh book, along with, if I recall right, a pair of Pooh bookends and a Pooh watch. Today I am twice that age and Pooh is still just as integral to my existence. I don’t think a birthday has passed between then and now in which Pooh hasn’t shown his friendly face in one form or another. Two days ago, it was a birthday card from my grandparents. Yesterday, it was a viewing of Pooh’s Heffalump Movie, courtesy of my best friend.

Although I was bound and determined to see both The Tigger Movie and Piglet’s Big Movie in the theater, I didn’t get there in time. So this was my first Winnie-the-Pooh movie-going experience, and it turned out to be an odd one. We were running a bit late, so I figured we’d miss a couple minutes. As it turned out, we walked into an entirely empty theater. “Hey, look, Erin!” Libbie shouted. “I rented a theater for your birthday!” The second we sat down the lights went out and the previews started. It gave me an eerie feeling of power. And this on opening day, if I’m not mistaken! While I think the venue, an out-of-the-way old theater on the east side of town, had something to do with it, I can’t help but think such a turn-out doesn’t bode well for the Silly Old Bear.

I find the title slightly off-putting, just for the reason that they’re following the pattern of naming a movie for its prominent character but apparently figure “Heffalump” doesn’t carry enough brand recognition. I think The Heffalump Movie or Roo’s Heffalump Movie would have been a better fit, and I just hate to think Disney thinks so little of our intelligence that we can’t figure out a movie is located in the Hundred-Acre Wood if it doesn’t feature one of the five most visible characters in the title.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed it. Carly Simon returned to the Wood after a successful involvement in Piglet’s Big Movie. While none of the songs are as memorable as The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers, I’m Just a Little Black Raincloud or the Pooh theme song, they work well in the movie: as an outlet for maternal affection, an anthem of budding friendship and a warning about the looming danger of Heffalumps reminiscent of Pooh’s eerie nightmare in Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. I was also surprised – and pleased – to catch several wistful wisps of a pan flute – or was it a tin whistle? A wind instrument with a decidedly Celtic air about it.

The movie retains a more British feel to it than The New Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh. It offers us several panoramic views of a drab yet glorious landscape, all rolling fields, babbling brooks and majestic forests with only the characters’ quiet homesteads and a wooden fence winding its way through the Wood to indicate the presence of its residents. (Where did the fence come from? I don’t recall its ever being there before. And how is it that Rabbit has been living practically next door to the Heffalumps all this time and we never knew it?) I feel like I’m stepping into the British countryside of Milne and Tolkien, purified by memory and imagination perhaps but just real enough that I can’t help but believe it exists and want to go there. (I’ll have my chance to see for myself, I guess, when I hop the pond to England this summer for six weeks. There’s no way I’m letting this trip slip by without a trip to Ashdown Forest.)

More than the setting, though, we have Lumpy, voiced by British then-5-year-old newcomer Kyle Sanger. I had read that he ad-libbed throughout the recording, in part because he had trouble remembering all the lines exactly, and they kept a lot of it because it was so cute. I couldn’t tell where this occurred most of the time, but there can be no denying that he is an adorable addition to the Pooh ensemble. His mother, when she finally appears, is the model of a doting British mum. These are the representatives of the dreaded race that lurks in the shadows of the foreboding trees that loom on the other side of the fence in Heffalump Hollow.

The movie is essentially a lesson in tolerance and stopping to get to know people before determining they are enemies. Just as the end of Pooh’s Grand Adventure revealed that all the frightening stops on their journey were only scary because of their state of mind, so Pooh’s Heffalump Movie assures our furry friends that these elephant-like creatures are nothing to fear. The paradigm shift occurs for Roo, who has captured Lumpy with the intention of bringing him home to proudly show his friends, when he realizes that Lumpy is just as afraid of Tigger, Piglet and Rabbit as they are of the Heffalumps. I’ve heard criticisms that the film tries too hard to be politically correct, but I just saw a sweet story with a couple of misunderstandings and a happy ending.

I had a hunch I was really going to like this movie in spite of my disappointment with Piglet’s Big Movie. This film is straightforward, with only a bit of self-referential narration at the beginning and end to frame the tale. I was confused to see David Ogden Stiers credited on imdb as the narrator. While he would make a fine narrator in the traditional Winnie the Pooh style, I am certain that it was Pooh himself who narrated this movie. An error on the website’s part? They did fail to mention Lumpy in the cast list altogether.

I thought the characters were much more themselves in this film. While Rabbit sternly telling Roo that he was too little to go Heffalump hunting with them, even though it was Roo who convinced them to do it in the first place, didn’t sit well with me, I guess I can accept it as a manifestation of Rabbit’s protective affection for the little marsupial. Rabbit is pretty crotchety in this movie, but that’s not unusual. Tigger is his typical bouncy self, Piglet as timid and Pooh as absent-minded as ever. But none of them are mean-spirited, as they seemed to be at times in Piglet’s Big Movie.

It’s odd for Kanga and Roo, two relatively minor characters in the Pooh canon – though admittedly Roo seems to be becoming more prominent lately – to carry a film, but I don’t mind. And while Eeyore’s presence in the film is negligible – “Why the heck was Eeyore in this movie?” Libbie asked – his bits of screen time, appearing just when everyone has nearly forgotten about him, are amusing. Relegated to the role of beast of burden, he is forced to carry the most bizarre assortment of equipment imaginable. I didn’t think that much stuff could be found among the houses of the Hundred Acre Wood’s inhabitants. I would think that Lumpy’s acquaintance with Roo would please Eeyore; it must be rather dismal to be the only one you know who walks on all fours.

Owl and Gopher are entirely absent from the film, but we don’t particularly miss them. It did seem odd to let an entire movie pass without even a mention of Christopher Robin. I guess the script-writers wanted our friends to solve this problem on their own. The trouble with all Pooh stories is that the Hundred Acre Wood is so akin to Heaven that no real peril can touch it. Atmospheric conditions sometimes threaten and visions of vile creatures may haunt the dreams of timid Piglet and hunny-hoarding Pooh, but the truth is that no bad thing of lasting consequence occurs here. I can’t say I was too surprised when, for the third movie running, the climax involved one of the characters dangling from a tree over a precipice. But it still managed to be endearing, with the heroic effort by the enemy camp a la The Russians are Coming. Of course, by this time the forest-dwellers on both sides of the fence have come to realize that they have nothing to fear from one another.

This is not an exciting movie, and most 24-year-olds would probably find themselves a bit bored by it as my friend did. Instead, I was infused with the warm feeling that must accompany Pooh when he lets a glob of golden hunny slide down his throat. The delightful slide show of further adventures with Lumpy, including an overdue introduction to Christopher Robin and a nod to Pooh’s long-ago tenure halfway through Rabbit’s front door, is the perfect finishing touch on a movie that succeeded beautifully in whisking this now-24-year-old “back to the days of Pooh.” Somehow I don’t think she ever really left.