Lit Kid: what’s in a name?

Junior Reader and I are nearing the end of our latest Atticus book. It’s been a lot of fun, in various ways, including recurring poo jokes, double crossings and much more.

But I have to say that I really sat up and took notice when one character was revealed to have an alter ego, going by the name of Edna Whelk.

Edna is a comedy name at the best of times. Think Edna Mode from The Incredibles (we frequently do here), Evil Edna from Willo the Wisp…great potential for scariness and (usually unintentional) humour combined.

Whelk is a great comedy word too, similar to spam perhaps in its impact: relatively undervalued (and now somewhat obscure) food, single syllable. (I’m sure lard could be used in a somewhat similar way.)

But Edna plus Whelk: genius.

I’m sure one of the reasons I like Manfred the Baddie is his name. Manfred isn’t a particularly well known name – I tend to think Manfred Mann, which doesn’t feel that scary – and less obvious for a villain.

(Manfred isn’t an out and out villain, and maybe the name helps us guess this too. But I shall refrain from further description – maybe one for my heroes and villains mini series.)

If you are thinking of names for not yet proven heroes, Hiccup seems a great choice. (And of course it is, in Cressida Cowell’s hands.)

It conjures up nervousness, a certain inability to control one’s body. Embarrassment. Add coming of age, being the son of the chief, and you can see why it works.

Combine with Horrendous and Haddock, plus the all-important ‘III’ (to show there have been others before him), and you have it all: history, expectations of intimidating others, a nod to the seafaring life.

It all adds up to ‘Viking’ – but not the Viking we, or his tribe, initially expect him to be.

There are plenty more wonderful character names out there: Geronimo Stilton, Paddington, Violet Elizabeth Bott. Particularly in books with comedic elements, the right names can set up part of the joke for you right away.

But meanwhile, if I want anyone to defend me against a scary cat, and a woman with poisoned hairpins, I’m calling Edna Whelk right away.

Friday phrases: a feast for a thousand weeks

Back to food again. I’ve written more about poetry recently, but there are plenty of children’s books written in verse that turn a pretty poetic phrase of their own.

The Giant Jam Sandwich is one of my childhood favourites. I’m sure it deserves its own proper Lit Kid post one day. By way of rapid precis, imagine a town inflicted with wasps – and finding a novel solution for trapping them.

The verse still bounces along well, even if the pictures look a little more dated now. Junior Reader lapped it up still, as did I, particularly excited about securing my own copy again.

But what I want to share with you is the ending of the book, where the giant jam sandwich is borne away by birds, holding the edges of the enormous table cloth that the sandwich rested on.

Na razie!

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The Giant Jam Sandwich

“…So the birds flew off with it in their beaks

And had a feast for a thousand weeks.”

John Vernon Lloyd and Janet Burroway

Down in the fibres

This week’s spring cleaning activity: carpet cleaning. Hire a machine that swooshes foamy stuff on your carpet and hoovers at the same time.

Having never done this before, I was a bit unsure about how it would go. Having done one and a bit rooms yesterday, and the same today, my arms are reminding me that they can do big tough jobs but the aching could mean they are just checking they are still attached.

Other than finding that the floors take longer to dry than advertised, generally happy. I can put my eco hat on too, for a bit, hopefully prolonging the length of life of the carpets.

I’m sure it would be more eco to do without carpets, but a) Northern Hemisphere, cold climate b) lack of underfloor heating and c) feels nice underfoot, and quieter than wooden floors.

Part of the point of the carpet cleaning, I’m sure, is the inverse satisfaction that comes with seeing just how grotty the water is once the machine has sucked the dirt out of the carpet and into the machine.

It’s not just ‘look how clean my carpets are’ but ‘look how much dirt there was there in the first place!’. It rewards the endeavour, even in a rather strange way – because we’d rather not admit to how much dirt there can be at home.

I am finding myself pondering some kind of metaphor to do with the dirt that we hide away, down in the fibres of the carpet. I don’t feel the need to be all Borrower about it, and consider the dirt from much closer up – I know it’s there.

Maybe there are all kinds of things that we just let build up: personal habits, eating patterns, ways of relating to others.

Every now and then, we may spring clean them, through one set of prompts or another, and see just what we are doing to ourselves – and perhaps others too.

Right now, I’m not opting to do too much more close up dirt inspection. It’s tiring, it can take specialist input to do the clean up (sometimes), and we all know carpets are for walking on. The dirt will inevitably come back.

But the notion of keeping areas of life more ‘rubble free’ – I like the sound of that. As long as there’s enough coffee and carbs to help me through the heavy lifting.

Lit Kid: dividing the spoils

There are many shared things in marriage. You share food, money, resources, and so on.
But there will also be points where you have to divide up the jobs to do.

Deciding who gets to read which bedtime stories falls into this category.

When we were still in full picture book mode, it was easy. Pick a couple, off you go. Maybe some library books, maybe some of your own.

Dan has tended towards the bedtime story slot. I have had more of the daytime story slot. Fair division of labour, and no one wants to miss out on reading aloud privileges.

The plus side of picture books is variety. Which means when a certain favoured book is requested a little too much, you can always mix it up with other things you might want to read too.

Now that we are very much more in chapter book mode, it can get a bit trickier. Dan is still chief bedtime story person, but what do you do when one of you is away?

That’s fairly easy. It’s hard to pick up mid chapter book, so you generally put it on hold for a night, and do other quick things instead – like short stories from anthologies, or a mix of picture books if it needs to be short and sweet.

The real issue is: how do you divide up the really good books that you both want to read aloud?

And when you each have childhood memories of having that particular story read to you, and want to pass on that rush to your own child, who gets to do it?

I nabbed Winnie the Pooh, it’s fair to say. Often on evenings when Dan was out. A chapter at a time, you can make it feel like a treat. (Though prolonged reading aloud of Piglet can seriously affect your vocal cords.)

Dan nabbed The Hobbit. That was a hard one, but I have agreed to a compromise.

I get to do The Phantom Tollbooth (though I think that was a self-read, rather than a read aloud). And My Friend Mr Leakey, the latter of which I have particular memories of my dad reading to me.

Dan is currently on The Tower of Geburah, which his mum read to him. When only one side read a book, it’s fair.

Although I’m pretty sure my dad read Rikki Tikki Tavi to me, but Dan got to do the honours with Junior Reader, a couple of months back. Sometimes part of the fun is introducing the book to two new audiences, not just one.

In general, Dan gets to do more of the heroic reads. The two of them have discovered the Hiccup the Viking books together, and are both entranced by the storytelling. Dan is also happily reliving the Narnia series.

These days, I get to do more of the comic reads. Cows in Action, Mr Gum. Atticus books have a fair element of comedy in them too.

But I will also pull out classics, like The Nutcracker, The Wizard of Oz, and so on. Partly because I have some which are also really lovely to look at (sharing my childhood again).

When it’s just you and your junior reader, you can indulge in some semi-hopeful voice actor work. And oft-read picture books lend themselves to building up particular cadences, particular pauses that only you have worked out.

Sometimes, it can feel a little personal, doing your voices, working your own read aloud magic, with another adult in the room. Even if you are both your child’s readers.

Sometimes, I have been known to listen in from another room, just a little. You don’t get the cuddles or the sight of any pictures in the same way as the one being read aloud to.

But you do get the sense of being transported – and experiencing the working of the read aloud magic, both as the reader – and as the child.

 

Friday phrases: cheese at the bottom

I may have previously alluded to my family’s liking for a good catch phrase. Ones that could be repeated infinitely, it seemed.

After a while of using favourite phrases, they come to have their own conversational uses. Ones that fitted a particular type of new circumstance, depending on the saying.

In my family, growing up, there was something you could say when you continued eating and finished something up. “I’m just checking to see if there is cheese at the bottom.”

This was Winnie the Pooh’s marvellous excuse for investigating a full jar of honey in his larder, even though there was little reason to suspect it contained anything other than honey.

This phrase can be used for other situations where you are finishing something up, or investigating right to the end.

“Still reading that report?”

“Nearly done…just trying to see whether there’s cheese at the bottom.”

Try it for size over the weekend. Perfect for that Monday morning conversation with your boss.

Bis bald!

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Winnie the Pooh, Chapter V: In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump

[Pooh checks the jar of honey in his possession – the one that he has agreed to put in the Heffalump trap.]

…”But you never can tell,” said Pooh. “I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just this colour.” So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. “Yes,” he said, “it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course,” he said, “somebody put cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a little further . . . just in case . . . in case Heffalumps don’t like cheese . . . same as me. . .”

A. A. Milne

[If you want to read the whole chapter, the link above will do just that.]