Children's Book Monday

I Went to Heaven

I went to heaven, -
'Twas a small town,
Lit with a ruby,
Lathed with down.
Stiller than the fields
At the full dew,
Beautiful as pictures
No man drew.
People like the moth,
Of mechlin, frames,
Duties of gossamer,
And eider names.
Almost contented
I could be
'Mong such unique
Society.

'Tis but a hint, dear reader, of the book to come...



Emily
by Michael Bedard
Pictures by Barbara Cooney






I've written about my love for this author before, so settle a little more deeply into your chair as we begin...

A little girl is curious about the reclusive neighbor on her street, a woman who lives in the yellow house with her sister. The neighbors call her The Myth...

The Myth sends a note to the little girl's mother, telling how she is revived by the piano music she hears from their house, and asks for more. The girl and her mother make a visit, and it is there that they meet the recluse, who is introduced by her sister as Emily.

She is too shy to come down and listen to the girl's mother play the piano, but she turns an ear to them from her quiet chair at the top of the stairs, where the girl finds her when she slips away from her mother.

As the little girl talks with Emily, an exchange of gifts is made. The girl has recognized the loneliness and longing in her new friend, and wants to bless her with some sign of Spring, to which her new friends responds by returning a poem. Which I shall let you be suprised and blessed with, too, dear reader, you and your children.





I was so enchanted by the writing in this book! Listen...

...as the little girl peeks through the window...

"There was no one there but Winter, all in white."

...and as winter fades..

"Across the street, the hedge had lost its veil."

...as they walked to The Myth's home...

"The road was full of mud and mirrors where the sky peeked at itself."

Barbara Cooney's paintings are, as always, exquisite. The wheelbarrow-pushing father and Victorian-fancy mother are symbols of stability and kindness, and the apron-wearing girl with her hair cut in a bob has large, curious eyes.

The afterword of this book describes the author's travels to learn more about Emily Dickinson, for that was The Myth's real name, and reveals her love for children, which brought smiles to my boys' faces! We scoured the internet for her work; and this was a poem they found especially pleasant:

The Pedigree of Honey
The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.

(Followed, naturally, by a dash for the dictionary to define the word, "aristocracy", then back to the poem for a more comprehensive reading.)

Please, do go find this book! And while you are there, look for Barbara Cooney's Miss Rumphius, Island Boy, Hattie and the Wild Waves, and Eleanor (a story of Eleanor Roosevelt's childhood). You will be enchanted!

Happy Reading!