Friday phrases: there’s just so much to do right here

I wrote a little while back about the impact of good endings on us as readers.

A good ending can sum up a character’s journey within a story – as well as point us to where they are going next.

Certain endings stand out in my memory. They may offer encouragement, or solace, or simply the grace that our dinner is still hot when we return to it, despite our earlier mischief.

I have alluded to The Phantom Tolbooth before on the blog, though I have never really tackled it properly.

(Nor should I really expect to do it full justice in one post, or many – it is one of those books you can return to time after time, and find new things in it on each reading.)

It seems a little unfair that I should undercut Juster’s book and begin with the ending, but it strikes me as a good antidote to our concerns at the end of a busy week.

Whether we remain in love with the world, or bored by it, as the book’s hero Milo starts out feeling, the world is amazingly full of interest and variety.

Call it a different phrasing of my earlier quotation of Stevenson – about being ‘happy as kings’.

But there is something lovely about having our perspective refreshed, whether through adventure, excitement or simply the presentation of other ways of seeing things.

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The Phantom Tolbooth

‘…And, in the very room in which he sat, there were books that could take you anywhere, and things to invent, and make, and build, and break, and all the puzzle and excitement of everything he didn’t know — music to play, songs to sing, and worlds to imagine and then someday make real. His thoughts darted eagerly about as everything looked new — and worth trying.

“Well, I would like to make another trip,” he said, jumping to his feet; “but I really don’t know when I’ll have the time. There’s just so much to do right here.” ‘

Norman Juster

Lit Kid: finding our way to bravery

Last time, I told you about my basket of books, and why I keep them handy. Time to dip in, and let you try out a few.

Today’s collection are all about being brave in some way. All have been road tested a good deal by Junior Reader, and I feel pretty happy in recommending them on.

The Brave Little Grork – Kathryn Cave, Nick Maland

This might have been a bargain store find, I can’t quite remember, but it is a lovely one. The pictures are in a light and airy style, often with unusual perspectives.

The Grork is shy, not brave, and tends to anticipate scary things around every corner – even when the truth may not be so scary.

Part of what I love about this story is the way it deals with friendship. The Grork is friends with a Greep, who doesn’t seem to be afraid of things in the same way.

The Greep doesn’t tease the Grork, or lecture him, but accompanies him, and the Grork does learn to be brave through what they find along the way.

I relate to the Greep, sometimes finding parts of life scary, sometimes with other Greeps around me who don’t see the world the same way. It’s good to know that grorks and greeps can be friends, and can learn from each other’s perspective.

Scaredy Squirrel – Melanie Watt

Scaredy Squirrel may be scared of all kinds of things, but that doesn’t stop him appearing in quite a few books now. You can even Tweet him, so the website tells me – if you’re feeling brave.

Scaredy Squirrel is interesting to find in a children’s book, because of the nature of his fears. He relies on a very structured routine to deal with the things he is scared of.

Often, if he needs to tackle something new, he needs a lot of props to help him, and a very detailed plan of what to do first, next, and so on.

Generally, Scaredy Squirrel finds that, despite his planning, sometimes elements go differently. He drops a key item that he needs, or something appears where he doesn’t expect it – he needs to improvise.

What is very encouraging is that, despite the fears, Scaredy Squirrel is generally able to come through the scary ‘unknown’ situation – even if he initially feels the need to play dead for a while afterwards.

Be Good, Gordon – Angela McAllister, Tim Archbold

This is less overtly about being brave, but it is a real favourite read for us. The illustrative style is quite similar to Quentin Blake, and there is a similar encouraging silliness about the book.

Gordon is used to having a weekly babysitter. His parents tell him to be good – and he is, brushing his teeth, dutifully taking himself to bed.

But his new babysitter, Lily Jigg-Popsicle, has other ideas of what is meant to happen – including bouncing on beds and squelching around in the mud outside.

Times and Guardian reviews cited on the Amazon page (link above) refer to this story offering an alternative to over-protective parenting.

But it is also a great encouragement for those who stick to routine as a safety net – and shows that we can brave new experiences, and be spontaneous.

Gordon finds that he can have fun. He doesn’t go off the rails. But he does find that the rush we get from trying new things, and being in the moment, can be its own reward.

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There are plenty more stories of bravery – often in difficult circumstances. Whether those difficulties are fictional, fantastical, or close to life, there are lots of stories out there for the moments when we long to find the heroic aspect of ourselves.

These stories I’ve featured are more for those who feel they just have to be brave, or correct, to deal with everyday life, let alone crises and adventures.

For those with children who are timid, or whose personality style brings them to seeking structure over spontaneity, these books can help offer useful ‘what if’ stories – and even to encourage how to cope when the ‘what ifs’ change as we go along.

Another time, I’ll look at some books about worry – and how to get beyond its grip.

Lit Kid: a little moral encouragement

I have a certain basket of books in the sitting room. Picture books.

They sit there, and occasionally they are picked up by Junior Reader, and perused for a while, usually in those five-minute moments when tea is not quite on the table.

I’ll confess. They are, in one sense, moralising books – or maybe more fairly, empathy reads. They are there to help make sense of difficult situations, and to offer some suggestions on how to respond to life.

It’s no great surprise that children’s literature is about moral example. Thankfully we’ve got plenty more than just that now, but still, we look to stories to make sense of life’s mysteries.

Why mean kids get away with things, and what we can do about it. Why villains flourish, and how to keep our heads when they seem to be winning. That kind of thing.

Some of the books I’ve put together are about feelings: anger, fear, worry, and so on. We all love a conversation where we learn that, despite our troubling (and personal) experience, we are not alone. Books meet us in that place, whatever age we are.

Sometimes the encouragement is of a different kind – one where we are shy, or quiet, or afraid of the world, and where a story offers an experience of freedom that might be less scary than we believe.

These books are important too, because they allow us to imagine ourselves as different: whether we want to be brave, or spontaneous, or simply special in our own way.

I’ve referred to these as moral reads – maybe they are counselling with a small ‘c’. Stories don’t have to dictate (and these days, I think they are less and less likely to). They can offer suggestions, and we are free to choose, or to find our own way.

So in the interest of spreading round a little more self-appreciation, whether for you or your own junior readers, I’ll add in a few book titles from my basket, and you can see what you think? Sound OK?

First up: books about tackling that big scary world out there, and being brave in some way.

 

Friday phrases: we haven’t had an earthquake lately

Every now and then, I feel the need for some bracing cynicism – or at least, the reminder that there are gloomier ways to view the world, whatever I am making of my own situation at the time.

I’m not advocating gloominess – far from it – though it can strike us easily enough at the end of the week, considering what we have done, and (more often) left undone, for various reasons.

It is at times like this that Eeyore’s outlook on life comes to mind – as a challenge to my own view of life.

Eeyore, you see, can be relied on to regard life with little hope for improvement. In a funny way, this can be quite helpful – it holds up a mirror to our own situations, and brings us to ask if they are really so bad.

Winnie the Pooh, as a book, has long been plundered for memorable quotations – and taken to stand for all kinds of philosophical mindsets.

Whether you side with the Tao of Pooh, or the Te of Piglet, I can’t help but feel Eeyore’s own contribution has been overlooked. Which I’m sure he would point out, with a mixture of rebuke and satisfaction.

One time, I found myself looking through the pages of Pooh again, and did in fact laugh out loud (but not ROFL – it was some time before that option). Eeyore’s gloominess is epitomised by the wonderful words I have chosen for today’s Friday phrase.

Next time disaster seems imminent or actual – whether someone has removed the sticks of your house, burst your birthday balloon, or sat on your chosen thistle – remind yourself that, at least, there haven’t been any earthquakes recently.

(I appreciate that, for some readers, earthquakes are more of an issue than they tend to be in the UK. So, in spirit, feel free to substitute your own meteorologically-unlikely situation.)

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Winnie the Pooh

“It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“And freezing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.”

A. A. Milne

Finally, finally

Ever get to those things you’ve been putting off for ages? Or (equally possible) trying to get to, but seemingly always sent off course by washing baskets and meals to cook, and the like?

So we’ve (finally, finally) crossed off a few big must do items in the last little while. Putting up pictures. Securing bookcases.

It ought to feel great – and really, it feels good (particularly enjoying the pictures again), but less positive than perhaps it should.

I wonder why that is. These things take on an importance of their own when they stay on the list. One day, you finally do the thing you’ve been meaning to do, and it returns to its natural importance: which might not really be that much.

Sewing a badge on a judo kit. Contacting a friend. Making an appointment. They are very everyday really, probably not remembered much except when we turn back to diaries, or add them into a blog post.

Add guilt and Must to the picture, and the to do item inflates to at least twice its normal size. It can outweigh other items that are really the same size; it can loom over free time and dictate unease.

I am trying to get a better grip on my to do lists; trying to avoid them multiplying like moths (or dust balls, depending on the section of one’s to do list).

It seems to help to have them all in one place – because I’m not forgetting them, or finding them ‘jumping at me suddenly’, like Pooh’s gorse bush.

In fact, I think I would much rather be like Pooh, and have an important Expotition to do instead of my list.

If I could only Dicsover the North Pole, as Pooh manages to do, that would feel more significant than buying new socks to replace the very holey ones, or returning items to shops that aren’t quite right.

However, Pooh still manages to find a few useful Hums while walking about, seeing what is out there.

And since I have managed to scrape a blog post from a to do list, maybe that should offer a little more encouragement. For writing, at least, if not for taming the to dos.