The Grasshopper and the Ants Learn From Each Other

In the 1998 Pixar movie A Bug’s Life, the members of a colony of hardworking ants are routinely bullied into giving most of their carefully collected food to a thuggish grasshopper and his cronies. Decades earlier, Disney presented another story about diligent ants and a lazy grasshopper. In the 1934 Silly Symphony The Grasshopper and the Ants, the larger insect is not cruel, just irresponsible. Though the ants warn him to prepare for the harsh winter weather to come, he continues on his merry way until he is forced to concede that they are right and that he should have spent some of his time getting ready.

The book version of Disney’s take on this ancient fable was written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Larry Moore. The paintings have a drab and rather fuzzy look about them. It certainly looks like a throwback to an earlier time in animation. The grasshopper is a jolly soul with bright, enormous eyes and a wide smile. He wears a red shirt and a green jacket that matches his green top hat, and he plays his fiddle merrily, inviting anyone he meets to join in his revelry. The ants are a bit less distinctive; they are black with brown legs, and many of them wear no clothes at all. Those who do mostly wear only a hat or bow; the queen in her regal pink gown and golden crown is the only one fully dressed.

In the original version of the story, after the grasshopper fails to heed the warnings of the ants, winter catches him by surprise and he appeals to the well-stocked ants for mercy, asking them for food and shelter, but they coldly turn him away. The moral appears to be that it is best to prepare for lean times instead of spending all your days goofing off, but the ants’ lack of charity rankles, so it’s hard to really see their industry as a great virtue under the circumstances.

In Disney’s version, the ants have more sympathy for their foolish friend, so instead of simply leaving him out in the cold to freeze and starve to death, they invite him in and he has the opportunity to repent, make amends and turn over a new leaf. In the original version, I think that while the grasshopper is too lackadaisical, the ants are too harsh. Disney offers a better balance, showing that it is important to work hard but that life is also to be enjoyed and that kindness to one’s neighbors is as high a virtue as dedicated self-sufficiency.

The Disney short includes a song that the grasshopper sings, and that appears in the book as well, though of course, you have to imagine the melody as he sings. The World Owes Me a Living is the name of the song, and it’s rather obnoxious, at least until he changes his tune. The lyrics were written by Larry Morey, but most of the words in the book are Brown’s. A prolific writer of children’s books, she moves the story along artfully, a few sentences at a time. The narration and dialogue is set apart in brown boxes, with the illustrations either taking up a full page or a large portion of the page, set against a white backdrop.

With the new year upon us, we are now in the midst of the winter in which this book concludes, or at least I am in Pennsylvania. I can never quite decide if I am the grasshopper or the ant. I’d like to think I have a pretty decent work ethic and that I manage my resources wisely, but I also spend a lot of time in leisurely pursuits. I think the key is to stick to neither extreme. Be more like the cricket, known for its merry music but associated with the making of sound moral decisions. In the end, in this more optimistic version of Aesop’s classic, the grasshopper comes to appreciate the value of hard work and the ants recognize the worth of merrymaking. All of them are able to appreciate that giving of yourself and letting your efforts bless others carries the sweetest rewards of all.

Disney Princesses Celebrate the Season in Winter Wishes

Earlier this fall, I read a couple of books that place various Disney princesses in autumnal settings. Now, with Christmas almost upon us, I perused the level two Step Into Reading book Winter Wishes, which features six of the ten princesses in the midst of wintry activities.

In this book, Apple Jordan writes in rhyme, which gives the story a nice lilt, though the rhythm is not as strong as it could be. The rhyme pattern is consistently ABCB, but some of the lines are short and some are long. While most pairs are pretty close in length, not all are; one that seems particularly clunky is “Cinderella wishes to go on a snowy coach ride. So Prince Charming takes his lovely bride.”

Cinderella is the last princess to appear in the book, as she was in those other Disney Princess books. She seems to have a slightly elevated status among the Disney princesses. She also appears on the title page, as well as the cover, though Belle is more predominant there. Snow White, Ariel, Jasmine and Briar Rose all have a few pages to themselves in this book too.

Ariel’s is a little strange since she’s under the sea, where I don’t think there are seasons as such, but there also aren’t mermaids, so it’s sort of a moot point. At least it isn’t snowing underwater. Jasmine does have snow in Agrabah, but that’s because Genie can do practically anything, including manipulating the weather.

Unsurprisingly, none of the princesses interact with each other. This is not a cohesive story but a series of vignettes. Snow White starts things off with eight pages, and Cinderella finishes them up with five. The rest have four each. Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Cinderella seem to alternate in these books between their pre-prince lives and their Happily Ever Afters, and it’s not always immediately obvious which we’re getting.

Here, though, Briar Rose is still living in the woods with the three kindly fairies, while Cinderella has clearly taken up residence in the castle. Snow White’s section does not mention the prince at all, but given the short time she was with the dwarfs, it seems likely that this Christmas celebration is taking place during a later visit rather than her initial stay.

While Aladdin does not play a part in this book, his presence is implied by Genie, so Jasmine’s portion takes place at least after the first movie, while the Beast is still in his cursed form, so Belle’s takes place before the end of Beauty and the Beast. Ariel, as pretty much always seems to be the case, remains a mermaid, so her segment appears to be a prequel.

All of the sections are pretty similar, with feasting, snow and Christmas trees common to most of the stories. Not everyone has specific winter wear, but those that do look quite elegant, especially Cinderella, the top of whose dress looks like something Mrs. Claus would wear. It’s very fun and festive. While there could have been a bit more variety in the traditions presented, Winter Wishes is a vibrant seasonal choice for young readers who love the Disney princesses.

Winter White Eeyore Is a Snowy Delight

In my room, I have a sizable collection of plush Winnie the Pooh characters. I bought most of them myself back in the good old days when Erie still had a Disney Store, but I received a few as gifts. One of those was the wintry Eeyore that was given to me by my friend Dan several Christmases ago. I think it is Eeyore's snarky remarks and pragmatic approach to life that make Dan a particular fan of this downcast donkey, but he is unusually cheerful here, and his snowy makeover suits him very well.

I don't think Eeyore was the only character to get a new look for Christmas that year, but because he is naturally bluish-gray anyway, the color scheme is ideal for him. He wears a powder blue sweater with a glittery white snowflake on the front, and upon his head is a matching Santa-style hat with white trim. Instead of his usual thunderhead-colored surface, he is bright white. A Velcro patch on his backside has his tail attached, but it comes on and off, while still being secured to Eeyore by some dark blue thread. The tail also has a blue bow on it, and the pupils in his eyes, as well as his eyebrows, are blue as well.

Obviously, this is a highly stylized Eeyore, and he really makes the most sense for winter. I have another one that has the traditional Eeyore appearance, but in December, this one is just so pretty. He's about nine inches high and nearly as big around; he sits up on his hind legs instead of standing on all fours. Hence, he has a pretty roly-poly appearance, and he's very huggable with that soft material and squishy stuffing. That's good, because Eeyore is a donkey who could really use more than his fair share of hugs.

The major drawback I see to this edition of Eeyore is that it's harder to keep him clean, since any stain is going to stand out against that pristine fur. This Eeyore is probably better for kids who are slightly older and will be more careful about not getting him dirty, though surface washing does help, and if you don't mind a dingy Eeyore it doesn't really matter in any case. Of course, there are no little kids in my house, just one big kid, and I think Winter White Eeyore is grand just the way he is. If you are looking for a cuddly plush pal or a way to add a touch of winter to your decorating scheme, you might just agree with me.

A Considerate Farmer Makes Animals' Dreams Come True in Dream Snow

When it comes to crafting artistic, interactive, creative picture books, Eric Carle is truly a master. Whether it’s the expanding size of the Very Hungry Caterpillar or the long-awaited chirp of the Very Quiet Cricket, his books, while immediately recognizable as his from his unique style incorporating layers of colored paper, always seem to hold a surprise or two.

Carle’s books tend to be short on words, and this is no exception, with a couple of sentences per page the norm. The story concerns an affable farmer with a rotund figure and a bushy white beard. Modeled after Carle’s friend Barry Moser, the man also happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain jolly old elf. Before the story ends, that similarity will come in handy.

The main portion of this book is very repetitious, as it involves the farmer, while asleep, dreaming of snowflakes that “gently covered” someone “with a white blanket.” At first, that someone is him. Then it’s each of his five animals (One, Two, Three, Four and Five). By the time he awakes, the snow is real, and it’s time for him to pull on his winter gear and provide a surprise for his barn-dwelling friends.

Carle first shows these creatures in their barn, with just their backs or bottoms visible through the windows, but this glimpse should be enough to tell readers which animal is which; they should, for instance, be able to tell that the horse is the first animal under that blanket of snow in the farmer’s dream. If they don’t remember that far back or feel like checking, they might try guessing based on the shape of the “blanket”.

The bulk of the story features just that quick succession of three pages several times over. One sentence in italics in the middle of a white page. One full-color illustration featuring a horse, a cow, a sheep, a pig or a chicken. And in between the two, a clear plastic sheet featuring a large white splotch and several smaller, snowflake-sized splotches. There is also a surprise at the end of the book, one that requires batteries. It’s a fun element, though it doesn’t add a great deal to the story, and it also makes less sense than the plastic snow pages.

If you’re a fan of Carle’s style or know a youngster who is, I recommend giving his original Christmas tale a look. I don’t think it will ever quite match the classic status of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but Dream Snow should satisfy those who already appreciate Carle’s work.

Toot and Puddle Are a Credit to Pigdom

When I was little, my dad often wore a shirt that read "Pigs Are Precious". I've always been inclined to agree with that sentiment, and lots of books seem to back me up on that. Now to Wilbur, Babe and Piglet I add a pair of porkers named Toot and Puddle. Evidently they're not newcomers, but while I'm familiar with Holly Hobbie, I'd never had the pleasure of meeting the congenial Toot and Puddle, who remind me pleasantly of Frog and Toad, only not so obviously disparate in personality. Oh, they're unique all right, and distinguishable from one another, but while curmudgeonly toad seems to do rather more receiving than giving, Toot and Puddle have comparable temperaments.

In Toot and Puddle Let It Snow, both are excited to find the perfect Christmas gift for each other, and they know it won't be easy. Toot muses that "the best present was usually something you made yourself, a one-of-a-kind thingamajig, not just a whatsit anyone could buy in a store." And there's Opal to consider as well, since this young female pig will be joining them for Christmas morning. But mostly, they are preoccupied with one another and searching for inspiration, and Opal's advice on that score doesn't seem to be getting them very far.

The watercolor paintings are pleasantly drab, making the book feel homey, with the sparseness of the landscape contrasting the closeness of the friendship. We watch Toot and Puddle struggle separately, recalling past gifts they have given each other and examining notable hobbies and traits that might offer a clue as to the perfect present. While there are many full-page paintings, some pages feature a series of small illustrations. The variety gives the book an extra dash of the unexpected, and all of the pictures, large and small, are endearing.

"I wish I could take this morning and put it in my pocket and keep it forever," Puddle remarks at one point in the story when he and Toot walk together through a woodland freshly coated in snow. Readers can essentially do just that, and what's more, they can have an added reminder of the book's simple beauty with the four cardboard ornaments that are included.

Toot and Puddle Let It Snow is a story of friendship in winter that warmed me like the soft glow of Christmas lights emanating from an evergreen. There's an indication that this is the last book in the series. I hope Ms Hobbie changes her mind; these pigs are too precious to be retired!

The Natural World Responds to Changing Seasons in First Snow in the Woods

Several years ago, my aunt introduced me to the awe-inspiring artistry of Carl R. Sams and Jean Stoick when she gave me a copy of their first book, Stranger in the Woods, for Christmas. Firmly set in winter, it shows the reaction a variety of woodland creatures have to a snowman set up especially for them to enjoy. The second, a springtime tale entitled Lost in the Woods, follows the plight of a fawn who has been left alone by his mother, much to the concern of the neighboring creatures. Both are notable for the outstanding wilderness photography within their pages, and First Snow in the Woods is no different.

First Snow is a winter tale, but it is also rooted in autumn. Most of the book involves the whisperings that snow will soon arrive; the flurries don't fly fast and furious until the climax. While the book is subtitled "a photographic fantasy," there's a lot of factual information to be gleaned about the seasonal habits of various animals. Owls seek warmer climates, chipmunks gorge on berries, dragonflies die. Although the story is not as focused on a particular character as Lost in the Woods, a fawn again interacts with the world around him, wondering about the changes that are occurring and asking questions. It seems this could be the same fawn as in that book, but as none of the characters have names, that remains unclear.

The photography is remarkable, vibrant and breath-taking. My favorites pictures include a deer standing shoulder-deep in a field of goldenrod and a glorious spread of geese flying in an inky sunrise as mist rises off the pond below them. Lively prose accompanies the illustrations, giving the animals more distinct personalities. Among the other animals that appear are a woolly bear, a monarch butterfly, a hummingbird, a squirrel, a woodchuck, a painted turtle, a raccoon, mice, a chickadee, a snowshoe hare and a robin, each responding to the alterations in the weather in a unique way.

"All things change," the doe explains to the fawn, and we see that although some of these changes can be sad, many are beautiful. There is a slightly elegiac tone to this book that isn't present in the first two, but the hazy sense of joy and new beginnings is what will remain as the final page turns. First Snow in the Woods is a nature lover's delight.

You'll Get Lost in This Book's Beauty

Several years ago, my aunt gave me the book Stranger in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy for Christmas. I'd never seen it before but was immediately entranced by the gorgeous close-up photographs of various woodland animals. While that book is firmly rooted in winter, Carl L. Sams II and Jean Stoick, a husband-and-wife team of wildlife photographers, next brought their creativity to a summery book as lush and green as their first effort is snowy. The book: Lost in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy.

This charming story is about a newborn fawn who awakes to find himself alone in the forest. He's not particularly surprised at this situation; after all, his mother told him that she needed to leave him here for his own safety and that she would be back eventually. But he's greeted with a chorus of curious woodlanders, and their chattered inquiries make him more anxious about his situation. Is he really lost, as they suggest? Did he wander so far that his mother won't be able to find him? What if she doesn't come back?

We get a very wide variety of forest life within these pages, and most animals have a distinct manner of speaking. The mouse whispers, the blackbird shouts, the owl hoots, the goslings gab. Many of them are inquisitive about this young visitor, but few offer him any very practical help. Comfort is what he needs more than anything, and he winds up getting quite the opposite from several busy-bodies who pose gloomy hypotheses as to why he where he is. However, he does receive some welcome affirmation from a frog and a katydid, both masters of camouflage, for blending so nicely into the landscape.

While the writing style is fairly engaging, the photographs are what really make Lost in the Woods a work of art. Though the backgrounds tend to be slightly out of focus and often blend into white space, where the text rests, the animals are in sharp detail, captured in moments of liveliness that complement the words perfectly. We get many close-ups of the adorable fawn, with his stylish spots, ungainly legs, wide, milk chocolate eyes and large ears. There's a chipmunk with cheeks stuffed to the bursting point, a bright-eyed little mouse hiding amongst leaves, a holly-red cardinal cocking its head inquisitively, a gaggle of goslings chattering to each other, a raccoon clinging to a branch and peeking at the spectacle below. While green is the most predominant color by far, followed by brown, we get the whole spectrum here. It's a vibrant, joyous book that makes me long for a springtime walk in the woods.

Stranger in the Woods is an excellent choice for young nature lovers, who can marvel at the exquisite photography and learn that fawns are often left alone in the woods by their mothers as a means of hiding them from predators, since very young deer have little to no scent. After they've read through the story, they can go back and reap more enjoyment from this book as they search for the small creatures listed on the final page, which are hidden throughout the preceding pages. Sams and Stoick have shown just as much skill in crafting a spring-themed book as they did with winter. Bring on summer and fall!

A Sleeping Bear and Woodland Intruders... Hmm... Sounds Familiar...

When I happened upon Don't Wake Up the Bear, written by Marjorie Dennis Murray and illustrated by Patricia Wittmann, I almost mistook it for one of the Karma Wilson / Jane Chapman collaborations about a big, furry, narcoleptic bear and his friends of many species. Reading through the book, the comparison persisted, especially since three of the animals that appear here - the mouse, the hare and the badger - also play a part in that series.

I also was reminded of Room For a Little One, a tender Christmas tale about an ox that shares his stable with several different chilly visitors before welcoming the Holy Family. Not that this book has anything to do with Christmas, but it does feature a series of very cold travelers taking refuge in the fur of a much larger beast. In this case, however, the benefactor is unaware of his generosity.

It's a snowy winter day, and a big, shaggy bear is all snuggled up and fast asleep in his cave. Along comes a hare, who declares, "My ears are so... cold. I wish I could snuggle up with that big, soft, warm bear." And because it's so cold and the bear is sleeping so soundly, the hare does just that. She is soon joined by other creatures, one at a time, each of which has the same thing to say, only about some other body part. The badger has a cold nose, the fox cold legs, the squirrel cold toes and the mouse a cold tail. As each newcomer is welcomed into the bear's den, he or she is warned, "Don't wake the bear." It's a good thing the bear is a heavy sleeper. But with all this company, what if he wakes up?

Murray's repetitive prose has a comforting simplicity about it, while Wittmann's watercolor illustrations are charming, fairly realistic with anthropomorphic expressions. I can't help but wonder if this book was influenced by Chapman and Wilson's Bear Snores On. The premise is practically identical, as are half the interlopers. The pay-off is slightly different, but ultimately the stories are so similar in terms of illustrations and basic plot that I can't help but be suspicious.

Don't Wake Up the Bear! is a cute story that I probably would have enjoyed even more had I not read Bear Snores On first.

Lovable Owl Another Treat for Frog and Toad Fans

Last week, I was in San Diego, and it was warm. So warm we walked around all day in t-shirts, our jackets at the hotel a distant memory. Back in Erie, it's snowing, so it's back on with the triple layers. Better yet, it's back on with a snuggly blanket and a cozy book, and a perfect selection for this situation is Arnold Lobel's Owl At Home.

Lobel has long been a favorite of mine, particularly with his Frog and Toad books, which cram so much tenderness and comedy into 60-some pages, most of which contain illustrations. Also an I Can Read book, Owl at Home is just as endearing and just as easy to read, but it's quite different in that there is basically only one character. So we don't have opposite personalities here, just one mild-mannered owl living all alone but trying to occasionally find friendship in the world around him. The book's illustrations are predominantly shades of brown, and we get lots of pictures of Owl puttering about in his pajamas inside his very comfortable home.

In The Guest, Owl politely invites Winter into his house after he hears it knocking on the door. Considerate soul! But not too cunning, and alas, all his kindness backfires on him when Winter proves to be a most ill-tempered houseguest. A very funny story.

Strange Bumps is a hoot too; as with many Lobel characters, Owl seems to be middle-aged but often acts childlike, and here he is pestered by night terrors when he looks down and notices that he is sharing his bed with two mysterious bumps. Whatever could they be? Of course, they turn out to be nothing to be afraid of; they've always been there, and I just find it curious that he never noticed them before. This is a cute story about facing nighttime fears, and children should get the point, even if Owl doesn't quite manage to...

Tear-Water Tea is a strangely melancholy story; Owl decides to brew a cup of tea with his own tears, and in order to do so he thinks of the saddest things he can imagine. The images he conjures are both silly and poignant; the list reminds me of my friend's six-year-old niece, who burst into tears upon remembering that she had dropped a bag of Skittles while staying at a hotel with her dad and they had all rolled away. Most adults wouldn't cry over "spilt milk," something good gone to waste, but there's a deeper sense of appreciation that goes with feeling that loss acutely. I'm especially touched by Owl tearing up over "mornings nobody saw because everybody was sleeping," accompanied by an illustration of the sun rising gloriously over quaint little town, and I know that I would be upset to find that a book I had begun to read could not be finished because there were pages missing. A thought-provoking tale.

Upstairs and Downstairs reminds me of A Walk to Remember, in which one of the dreams of young heroine Jaime was to stand in two states at once. Here, Owl wants to be both upstairs and downstairs, but no matter how quickly he runs, he can't be up and down at the same time, and so he must always be missing one or the other, though since he lives alone, there can't be much happening in either location if he isn't there. Owl's eventual compromise acknowledges the reality of the situation in a satisfactory manner.

Owl and the Moon closes the volume. After an evening at the seashore, Owl is pleased to discover that the moon has risen and seems to be gazing at him. He concludes that they must be very good friends, and he is sorry that they must part, but it's time to go home. What a nice surprise, then, when the moon begins to follow him. But surely such a round fellow can't fit through his door. What is Owl to do? A cute story that reminds me of James Thurber's Many Moons, in which a clever jester finds a way to fulfill the wish of a princess desperate to have the moon brought to her.

Owl is such a sweet character, it's a shame he only appears in this one book. But it is a great comfort to have these five stories to return to on lonely or blustery days. We all could use a little Owl in our homes.

Henry and Mudge Make the Most of a Yucky Weekend

We've reached the part of the winter when all of the snow has been sitting around so long that it scarcely carries a trace of its past sparkling beauty. No, this is just drift after drift of brownish sludge, hardly a sight to inspire any imagination. My dear curmudgeonly Toad would peek out on the disgraceful display and comment, "Blah." Henry, the usually chipper young protagonist of the Henry and Mudge series by Cynthia Rylant - author of the Poppleton and Mr. Putter and Tabby books - and illustrator Sucie Stevenson, would probably describe the scene in the following manner: "Wet yuck."

This is the title of the first section in Henry and Mudge and the Long Weekend, the eleventh book of their adventures. This 35-page book has more sections that usual, five as opposed to the average of three. The other sections include Bored, The Idea, Down in the Basement and A Great Weekend. Henry awakes on a Saturday dismayed by the icky weather, which proceeds to cast gloom over the entire day. Mudge is so bored he falls asleep, and Henry and his father - who teases that Henry has a case of the "February cranks," "winter grumpies" and "pre-spring meanies" - soon follow suit. But then Mom comes up with the perfect plan to keep everyone bright and cheery.

When I was a much more convenient smaller size, I loved changing a card table, a couple of couches and chairs and several blankets and books into a marvelous fortress. The more chairs the better, and sometimes I'd even manage to set up two card tables side by side for the grandest of all possible living room castles. But the best homemade clubhouse I ever had rested in our basement, just like the one Henry's mom proposes. Mine was not a castle like Henry's with fancy towers and flags and battlements. Rather, mine was decked in dots of all colors in order to replicate the Polka Dot Door, the centerpiece of my favorite television show at the time. It sure was fun to decorate that former refrigerator box and turn it into my own magical place. I don't recall if I spent a whole weekend working on it, but it certainly would have been a pleasant pastime for a couple of days.

How could anyone dwell on the mid-winter blahs while so happily engaged? Henry and his parents really go full steam ahead with this project, designing and cutting and painting to their hearts' delight, with breaks figured in for pizza, of course. And while Mudge may not make himself particularly useful, he's thrilled to happen upon a beloved old boot that he thought had disappeared years ago.

For children stuck with a big stretch of time before them and no obvious way to fill it, Henry and Mudge and the Long Weekend may be just the thing to serve up the needed dose of inspiration - perhaps even enough to counteract the "wet yuck" of Erie County in March.

Kids Are Adoring This Bear Who Is Snoring

It's January, and the weather outside is the sort that makes me seriously consider hibernation as a winter occupation. Oh, it's beautiful outdoors... but sooo cold. And the temptation is great to pile on the fleece blankets in substitution for a heavy coat of shaggy fur. This contemplation is silly, of course; I can't afford to sleep through the winter. And though it's in his nature to let those snowy days pass by as he naps, Bear, the charming star of three Karma Wilson books, has reason to stay awake for at least one winter occasion as well. If only it weren't so hard to do...

In Bear Snores On, the first of Karma Wilson's inspired collaborations with illustrator Jane Chapman, we come upon Bear in his cave, slumbering away. He certainly doesn't look too intimidating all snuggled up like that, but this is a very large creature, so we wonder a bit at the boldness of all the small animals that gather in his lair for a little get-together. First tiny, delicate Mouse, then gregarious Hare and generous Badger show up to get the party started, and soon they are joined by Gopher, Mole, Raven and Wren. Soon they're all huddled together by a crackling fire. But have they forgotten whose home they have crashed? What will happen if Bear wakes up?

I can't decide which part of this book entrances me more, the writing or the illustrations. Chapman's acrylics are warm and inviting - except for the snow, which is frigidly blustery - and her furry friends expressive and cuddly. The central position of the teapot atop the bubbling fire and the fact that three species prominently featured in Brian Jacques' Redwall series are included makes me think of England, which is appropriate since Chapman is English, though Wilson is American. Her lilting rhymes, along with the repeated phrase of "the bear snores on," draw the reader in as cozily as the fire the furry fellows build. The story is simple, but it weaves an undeniable enchantment that is especially impressive considering that this is Wilson's first book.

Because we do not actually meet Bear in an awake form until the end of the book, there is a degree of suspense here. We don't know for sure if the animals know Bear and feel comfortable sharing his home or if they just assume that he won't wake up so they don't need to worry about it. Our initial encounter with the suddenly wakened Bear is intimidating. But given the tone of the rest of the book, I doubt this page will cause too much of a fright for youngsters, especially since it follows a gigantic-sized sneeze likely to provide enough giggles to last for a couple of pages.

This is the perfect book to snuggle up with on a frosty day like today. You can't help but fall in love with Wilson's lyrical storytelling style and Chapman's enchanting illustrations. And happily, there are several more books where this came from; I couldn't bear it if Wilson and Chapman stopped here!

Snow is No Deterrent For This Very Small Piglet

Here in Erie, a very blusterous sort of storm has been brewing for the past couple days, dumping snow all over the city and for miles around. As I gaze out the window from my perch under a cozy blanket on the couch, I can see the flakes falling furiously, as though each one was racing the next to the gleaming ground. It's the kind of weather that invites the conflict of whether to stay inside and watch the beautification from a safe distance or go outside and wade around in the powdery covering, turning into a popsicle in the process. These are just the conditions Piglet faces in A Perfect Little Piglet.

As most folks know, Piglet is a timid and tiny creature, so one might expect he would opt for the cozy window-watching in a blizzard. But Piglet craves friendship even more than security, so the beginning of the book finds him tromping through the snow to Pooh's house. Because he is so small, he can't walk very quickly, and once he arrives at his destination and Pooh invites him inside, he is unable to help his friend by getting a pair of teacups from the top shelf of Pooh's cupboard. This is all very discouraging for Piglet.

But Pooh is a very good friend disinclined to hold a grudge against someone for his shortcomings; instead, he reminds Piglet that bees are much smaller than piglets and that they have the extremely important job of making honey. On the way home, Piglet meets Tigger, Roo and Eeyore, and each of his encounters leaves him with an even stronger sense of self-worth, particularly when he is able to perform a very noble task that only someone of his size could manage.

This isn't exactly new territory; every now and then a book or an episode of The New Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh has dealt with Piglet's feelings of inadequacy, and a few years back Piglet's Big Movie even tackled the same territory, though I wouldn't say it did so particularly well. I have no complaints with this story, though, which is written in a simple style by Rita Balducci and vibrantly illustrated by Arkadia Illustration Ltd. It's the second book in Disney's Out and About With Pooh: A Grow and Learn Library.

Even if we aren't half the size of most of our friends, most of us know what it is to feel small, so this is a story that you don't have to be a Pooh fan to appreciate. It just might even be enough to entice a snuggly gal like me to venture out into the cold for a while.

Brett's Borders are Windows into a Rich and Detailed World

Annie and the Wild Animals is the book that started my Jan Brett collection, and I actually own two copies of it, one in hardcover and one in soft. My aunts gave me the hardcover as a Christmas gift in 1987. Four years later, one of those same aunts gave me the book for a second time, this time autographed by the author. Her autographs are especially neat, as she not only signs her name but adds a small illustration.

Many of Brett’s books are based on folktales, but as far as I can tell this one is an original. It follows the story of Annie, a little girl with blond, braided hair and crystal blue eyes living in a cozy cabin with her cat Taffy. When Taffy, who has been acting strangely lately, disappears, Annie becomes very lonesome in her little house surrounded on all sides by snow and trees. It’s the dead of winter, and Annie has no one with which to share her home. Determined to find a new pet, Annie leaves corn cakes at the edge of the forest with ever more disastrous results. She does attract animals, yes, but none suitable to replace her lost furry companion. What’s worse, the animals are hungry and she is running out of corn cakes…

This book contains far less text than Town Mouse Country Mouse, and the print is much bigger. Even more than in that book, the illustrations in this book tell the story, with many layers to be found upon close inspection. The words are very sparse and only tell in the most basic of terms what is going on. The full-page illustrations are very detailed and well-done, but it is in the borders that the most detail lies. Brett often asks her readers to look beyond the obvious and look for the deeper story. With Brett more than any other illustrator, I have learned that illustrations are a literary vehicle which can be read just as carefully, and with just as many rewards, as words.

Each border is very different. For instance, on the page wherein Taffy vanishes, the border features an array of snowflakes, and four small pictures show Taffy making her way across the snow, past birds and a rabbit, and into a cozy tree. Another border, on the page featuring a bear whom Annie decides is too grumpy for a pet, has a wooden-looking trim with pictures of wolves and deer, who will come for the next round of corn cakes, and a small glimpse of Taffy, who is nestled in the tree hollow with her three newborn kittens. The illustrations extremely detailed, and the animals’ personalities are well defined. One of the best illustrations features a jumble of irate bears, cantankerous moose, snappy wolves, agitated deer, and leering bobcats, all impatiently waiting outside Annie’s cabin for their next meal.

The illustrations really do the talking in this story, and they do it extraordinarily well. It doesn’t matter that there aren’t very many words here. The old adage “a picture is worth a thousand words” certainly applies here. A couple of lingering questions: How did Taffy get out? This isn’t too problematic; I assume she probably found some hole in a corner somewhere that she could squeeze through; after all, she’s obviously been outside at least once before. The more persistent question: What is a little girl doing living all by herself in a cabin in the middle of nowhere? And where does she get her food from? But these questions are mere curiosities and certainly don’t detract from the book, whose illustrations you can return to again and again, finding something new each time.

"You Ridiculous Little Hedgehog. Don't You Know That Animals Don't Wear Clothes!"

When I heard last winter that Jan Brett would be coming to Erie for a free book reading and signing, I knew I had to attend. The event was on a school day, but later than my morning class and leaving plenty of time, or so I thought, until my afternoon class. I hadn’t counted on the large number of people gathered at Borders to listen to Brett read and have her sign a copy of one of her books. In addition to the many adult fans of Brett’s work, some looking to add to their own collection and some thinking ahead towards Christmas for those special children in their lives, there were several school groups queued up to meet the author/illustrator. Most of them were a bit more savvy than Mom and I and had come to Borders in advance to secure a spot in line. This had never occurred to us, so we walked in twenty minutes before the reading and were handed tickets indicating that 230 people would be in line ahead of us. I ended up giving Shakespeare a miss that day.

All this is leading up to the fact that we purchased this book, The Hat, along with Brett’s newest book, Who’s That Knocking on Christmas Eve?, at the signing and had her put her distinctive mark on both. In this book, there is a picture of Hedgie the hedgehog just before the title page. Above Hedgie, Brett wrote “Love *squiggle* Jan Brett,” and below that, a heart. On the tip of Hedgie’s nose, she drew a stocking, so that the picture now looks like Hedgie about to get into the same situation in which he finds himself in the book.

Hedgie is a small hedgehog based on Brett’s own pet, Buffy. Brett was inspired to write this book after finding Buffy stuck in a slipper sock, held fast by her prickles. She traveled to Denmark to the hometown of Hans Christian Andersen and spent hours committing the place to her sketchpad for use in this book.

The story begins with young Lisa taking out her winter clothes and hanging them on the line to air out. One stocking blows away and lands on the unfortunate Hedgie, who cannot remove it because it is stuck on his prickles. Throughout the remainder of the book, Hedgie covers his embarrassment by telling the other animals he encounters that the stocking is a hat. The animals all laugh, but by the end of the book the tables are turned.

This book contains more words than Annie and the Wild Animals, primarily because of the dialogue between Hedgie and the other animals. The print is still the same size, however, and the text is still much sparser than in Town Mouse, Country Mouse. It is fun to observe through dialogue how the different animals interact with Hedgie.

The illustrations are, as usual, delightful. Hedgie encounters a hen with her chicks, some geese, a striped orange cat, a dog (a German shepherd, perhaps?) and her puppies, a pig and her piglets, and a pony. The intricate features of the animals and the bright color of Lisa’ winter clothes offset the bleak winter landscape that fills the pages. As is the case with all of Brett’s books, or at least the ones I’ve read, the border plays a very important role here.

The borders are fairly uniform in this book, always with what appears to be a wood base with red semi-circles at the bottom and either a floor or table of varying color. Each page has two ovular windows, one on either side of the mirror, and a long oblong one on the top, except in the first and last two pages when the top one is replaced with a large bow. The border around the windows is different on each page, but each retains a specific purpose throughout the book. The window on the left shows the activities of Lisa, while the one on the right shows which animal Hedgie will encounter next. The top window keeps track of the clothesline, foreshadowing the ending of the book.

The Hat is another fine addition to Brett’s body of work with its silly premise and evocative illustrations. As in Annie, this little girl appears to live alone; I guess that Brett would probably prefer to keep adults, at least human adults, out of her work as much as possible, as children would generally rather read about other children and animals. Brett’s young characters are independent and self-sufficient, and this, I imagine, makes them all the more palatable to young readers.

This is not the only book in which Hedgie plays a part, incidentally. He has become a particularly beloved character for Brett and her readers, having also appeared in Hedgie’s Surprise. Meanwhile, The Hat is a companion book to Brett’s The Mitten, in which a boy loses a mitten and it is discovered by a wide variety of animals, all of whom want to take advantage of its warmth. Another endearing tale by Brett and her crew of animal characters.