The Polarizing Express

A discussion about presentation copies of children's and young adult books sent me to the shelves to grab one of my favorite examples: THE YEAR IT RAINED by Crescent Dragonwagon. Then, as I stood holding the book, I remembered what a polarizing novel this is.

THE GIVING TREE...THE RAINBOW FISH...LOVE YOU FOREVER.

The children's book world is full of titles that almost always evoke a love 'em or hate 'em response. Though directed at a much (much) older audience and not nearly as well-known as the aforementioned books, THE YEAR IT RAINED is another of those volumes that some readers cherish and others despise.


I must admit, I was first drawn to this young adult novel because of its "family pedigree." Crescent Dragonwagon is the daughter of Hollywood biographer Maurice Zolotow and the brilliant children's book editor Charlotte Zolotow. Elizabeth Stein, the seventeen-year-old protagonist of THE YEAR IT RAINED is the daughter of a Hollywood biographer father and a brilliant children's book editor mother. I expected the novel to be a roman a clef, providing an inside look at Charlotte Zolotow and her stable of writers -- and I was not disappointed. As I read the novel, I was fascinated by the multi-dimensional characterization of the mother, who is nurturing of both Elizabeth and the writers whose work she edits. I also had fun trying to guess the identities of some of the authors who pop up from time to time in the narrative. But soon I was consumed by the raw emotion of this novel, which charts the growth of Elizabeth from a lost, suicidal girl to a confident young woman who seems to have found her direction in life. It's also very much the story of young writer in the making.

As I mentioned earlier, this novel tends to have a polarizing affect on readers. The "hate it" camp find the story angst-filled, self-indulgent and too mature for a young adult audience. (I seem to recall that the paperback version was actually marketed to adults rather than teenagers.) I fall into the "love it" camp -- not just because I loved the insights into the editing profession provided by Elizabeth's mother, but also because Elizabeth is such an genuine character -- not always likable, but always achingly real. Her growing self-acceptance (as a person, as a daughter, as a writer) is well-earned, building to a quietly powerful final scene that I've never forgotten in the over twenty years since I first read this novel.

I'd be curious to hear from others who have read this book. Did you love or hate it?

Now that I've told you a bit about the novel, I'll get back to the original intent of this blog entry: presentation inscriptions from authors.

One of the secondary characters in THE YEAR IT RAINED is the mother's best friend, Dorothy Fiori, who lives across the street with her husband Sidney. Since many of the characters in this novel are based on real-life people, I assumed that the sympathetically-portrayed Dorothy Fiori was real as well. I seemed to recall reading somewhere that Charlotte Zolotow really did live near her best friend and that a temporary tiff between the two motivated Charlotte to write THE HATING BOOK, a still-in-print picture book that begins "I hate hate hated my best friend" but ends with a rapprochement between the two.

Several years ago I was in a used bookshop and saw a copy of THE YEAR IT RAINED. Although I already owned a copy, something told me to pick this one up and look inside. Written on the front endpaper was:



I was thrilled to know for sure that the Dorothy and Sidney in the book were indeed real people. (According to the bookseller, both had died...which is how the novel ended up for sale at his shop.)

The only other mark in the book came on page 121, in which a reference is made to "Dorothy's smell, of cigarettes and faint perfume and Jergen's lotion and hair spray...." Someone underlined the words "hair spray" and put a question mark in the margin.

I guess the real life Dorothy Fiori, uh, Dorothy FIELDS did not think she really smelled like hair spray!

Another Sunday Brunch

Welcome to another Sunday brunch at Collecting Children’s Books, consisting of some random facts, thoughts, and opinions about books for young people.

FAREWELL TO FRIENDS

A recent mention of Elizabeth Borton de Trevino on this blog made me wonder if this Newbery-winning author (I, JUAN DE PAREJA) was still alive. The last I heard, she was living in Mexico and nearing one hundred years old. However, a trip to the Wikipedia tells us “According to the Social Security Death Index, Elizabeth Borton de Treviño died December 2, 2001 in Texas at age 97.” I wonder if this was noted by any of the children’s book publications. I remember being surprised, some years back, when I stumbled across information that the 1964 Newbery winner, Emily Cheney Neville (IT’S LIKE THIS, CAT) had died in 1997. I don’t recall that obituary getting much attention either. Even the Wikipedia still lists her as being alive!

Speaking of IT’S LIKE THIS, CAT

Has there ever been a young adult novel that presented a more vivid portrait of New York City in the 1960s? The Big Apple almost assumes the role of another character in this book as protagonist Dave Mitchell (who lives near Gramercy Park) rides his bike to Brooklyn, sees a play on Broadway, eats hot pastrami on Staten Island, visits the Fulton Fish Market, and meets his girl at Coney Island on a cold and windy autumn day.

IF YOU LOVE NEW YORK

You might want to get a copy of STORIED CITY : A CHILDREN’S BOOK WALKING TOUR GUIDE TO NEW YORK CITY by Leonard S. Marcus. This little book contains over twenty walking tours that will have you exploring Harriet the Spy’s upper east side neighborhood, Chester Cricket’s Times Square, and the Brooklyn Heights home of Tucker Wolf (protagonist of M.E. Kerr’s DINKY HOCKER SHOOTS SMACK!) at 105 Joralemon. (Dinky herself lives on nearby Remsen Street, which also happens to be the same street where the protagonist of Richard Peck’s FATHER FIGURE lives.)

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES FROM BROADWAY

I’m wracking my brains trying to think if any children’s or young adult books have been made into Broadway plays. The only one I can remember is THE TAP DANCE KID, a musical based on Louise Fitzhugh’s NOBODY’S FAMILY IS GOING TO CHANGE. I guess ONCE UPON A MATTRESS might count, as it was based on the fairy tale “The Princess and the Pea.” Carson McCullers’ THE MEMBER OF THE WEDDING and Gregory Maguire’s WICKED were both published as adult books, but have a young-adult sensibility; WICKED is particularly popular among young playgoers. Teens also flock to youth-centric shows such as HAIRSPRAY and RENT. This makes me think that Broadway producers looking for a blockbuster would be wise to start commissioning playwrights to adapt young adult novels for the stage.

THE WORLD WEST OF NEW YORK CITY

Who remembers reading Lois Lenski’s regional stories, which were set all over the United States of America? I loved reading these as a kid, but particularly enjoyed the two books she wrote about my home state of Michigan: WE LIVE IN THE NORTH and HIGH-RISE SECRET. I wonder if most Lenski readers were drawn to reading about unfamiliar and faraway places, or preferred books that depicted their own region? I wonder if the publisher ever kept statistics to see if each “regional book” sold best within its home region.


NONFICTION NEWBERYS

From time to time there are complaints that the Newbery Award ignores nonfiction books, but did you know there was one year when four of the five books honored were nonfiction? In 1951, the winning book was AMOS FORTUNE, FREE MAN, the biography of an American slave, by Elizabeth Yates. The Honor Books were the biographies BETTER KNOWN AS JOHNNY APPLESEED by Mabel Leigh Hunt, GANDHI : FIGHTER WITHOUT A SWORD by Jeanette Eaton, and ABRAHAM LINCOLN : FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE by Clara Ingram Judson. The only fictional honoree? THE STORY OR APPLEBY CAPPLE by Anne Parrish.


FEELING ALIVE

One of the most talked-about young adult novels of this past pubishing season was the English import BEFORE I DIE by Jenny Downham. Tracing the last months of a dying teenager and ending, literally, with her last conscious thought, BEFORE I DIE was described as “vibrant,” “transcendent,” and “life-affirming.” The New York Times Book Review said “that the reader can finish its last pages feeling thrillingly alive.” I’ll offer a dissenting opinion: I found the book depressing, sad, and finished its last pages feeling like I’d just barely survived a near-death experience. I did, however, recently read a rather unlikely book that does deserve to be called vibrant, transcendent, life-affirming and thrillingly alive. It’s REPOSSESSED by A.M. Jenkins, the story of a demon claiming the body of a modern American teenager. The book is fast-paced and amusing, but what I enjoyed most was the narrator’s reactions as he discovered human senses and his exuberant joy at being able to see and feel and taste and touch. This Printz Honor book makes you think about the simple pleasures of eating ketchup and waking up in the morning.

TRULY SAD ENDINGS

I just read two new books by Siobhan Dowd. A SWIFT PURE CRY is the story of a disadvantaged Irish girl dealing with an unexpected pregnancy; THE LONDON EYE MYSTERY concerns a boy with autism or Asperger Syndrome who uses his different way of thinking to solve the mystery of his missing cousin. Both novels feature strong settings, well-developed characters, and powerful first-person voices. Unfortunately, the conclusions to both stories are rather weak, marring otherwise compelling narratives. It’s particularly sad to note that Siobhan Dowd recently died at a fairly young age; she would have had quite a future in children’s and young adult fiction.

CURSIVE, FOILED AGAIN!

A young adult author of my acquaintance told me she never wants titles to be written in cursive writing on the covers of her books. Why? “Because kids today don’t know how to read cursive.” I found that hard to believe, so asked my friend to clarify. She said that kids who write her fan letters sometimes ask her not to reply in cursive handwriting “because I don’t know how to read it.”

Isn’t that amazing? Isn’t cursive writing still taught in schools these days?

FOUND ART

I was washing clothes today when I discovered the old chair next to the washing machine had writing on it. Obviously a wet bag or container was set on top of the chair and somehow the writing bled off and now appears, backwards, on the seat. It made me think of all the books I’ve read...the enduring power of the written word...and all the stunning bits of dialogue and description that, over the years, have emblazoned themselves on my heart and imprinted themselves on my mind.

Now, for the first time, I have words imprinted on my seat.

Look, but Don't Touch?

A couple years ago, I came across a first edition of Eleanor Estes’ THE HUNDRED DRESSES -- surely one of the best-loved children’s books of the twentieth century. Since I already owned a copy of this classic short novel, I planned to sell the second copy. Part of the excitement of reselling a volume is, of course, the idea of earning some extra money to add to my book-buying fund. But there is also the thrill of knowing I’m getting a particular book into the hands of someone who will really treasure it.

Shortly thereafter an e-mail acquaintance expressed an interest in buying THE HUNDRED DRESSES. I sent her a description of the book and a scan of the jacket, similar to what you see here:


She immediately wrote back asking me to scan the spine and back panel of the dustjacket.

Okay.

Then she wanted me to remove the jacket and scan the front, back, and spine of the book’s red binding.

Oh, she also wanted the endpapers scanned.

AND the inside backing of the dustjacket!

Next came the questions: What was that off-color stain on the front cover? (It was a spot where a drop of water had once hit the book, as I had already mentioned in my description.) Was that a loose thread at the top of the spine? Why were the endpapers so dark? Could that stamp-sized bookstore label on the back endpaper be removed? And please send another scan of the dustjacket backing -- it looks like the front illustration is bleeding through onto the back!

The potential buyer finally turned down this perfectly-nice, perfectly-presentable (but not perfectly-perfect) book, saying, “It just isn’t up to my standards.” By that point I was glad she wasn’t getting it. Instead, I sold it to someone else, who was thrilled to get it. And I was thrilled to sell it to someone who appreciated the volume despite its very minor flaws.

I’ve been thinking of that incident all week, ever since a new friend of this blog sent me an e-mail on the subject of collectors who feel “that bookplates and author signatures, gift inscriptions, and even bookstore labels depreciate the book. And interestingly, when you hunt [for books] on-line, these points are always listed, sort of with regret. Along the lines of ‘Beautiful copy, near fine except gift inscription to prev. owner on ffep.’”

He added, “Well, I am a huge fan of these bits of history. I love finding a book that has all of that stuff in it. ...I believe that there are fewer gifts more personal than a book. So, to have a little inscription “to Susie from Aunt Millie” or “Christmas 1978 from Grandma” shows that the book was carefully given. I treasure these messages.”

Me too.

Like everyone else, I love finding a pristine copy of an old children’s book and adding it to my collection. Who wouldn’t? But at the same time, I’m reminded of those appraisals on television’s ANTIQUES ROADSHOW where someone brings in a 1940s toy still in its original box. The antiques appraiser says, “It looks like this toy was never touched!” and the owner says, “No, I wasn’t allowed to play with it when I was growing up.”

What’s the point of a toy you can’t play with?

Or a book you can’t read?

I’d much rather own a book that contains a bit of history.

Many serious collectors have a disdain for dustjackets with price-clipped corners. I can understand their concern (they’re afraid that a later-state dustjacket with a different price was placed on an earlier edition of the book.) But I can also understand why someone in the past clipped the corner of that jacket before giving the book as a gift. For one thing, it was an earlier generation, when people were more modest and less ostentatious; they’d no more give a book with the price on the front flap than they’d give a sweater with a price tag dangling off the sleeve. There are other cases where people clip the price because they’re embarrassed that they spent too much (“I know the limit for our class Secret Santa gifts is three dollars, but I like her so much I wanted her to have this five dollar book”) or too little (“My father is out of work and I don’t have three dollars for our Secret Santa, so I’m cutting the corner off this dollar-fifty book.”)

Others hate bookplates and labels from bookstores. I don’t. Both provide hints to a book’s provenience. A bookplate tells us that the book was valued by (and possibly loaned out by) its original owner. Plus they, as well as unobtrusive bookstore labels -- usually pasted onto the back bottom endpaper -- are often fairly attractive.

I agree with my correspondent about gift inscriptions as well. They tell us that the book was carefully chosen, carefully given.

And I’m amazed that some collectors even dislike author inscriptions! I’m assuming they don’t mind simple signatures, with or without a date, but they just don’t want any extraneous words scrawled inside by the author. I do. To me, this shows that the author took that extra moment to personally dedicate the book, or write in a personal comment. Many of my favorite authors are long-deceased, so I’m never going to get them to sign a book “To Peter” for me. So I’m just as thrilled to get a copy that’s inscribed “To Bobby and Matthew.”

As for those other things that bothered the potential HUNDRED DRESSES buyer: a dime-sized water mark, a loose thread, a slightly-darkened endpaper...well, the book is over sixty-five years old. How many PEOPLE make it to age sixty-five without any signs of aging?

I hope my erstwhile customer found a perfectly-perfect copy of THE HUNDRED DRESSES. I’d like to see her collection of children’s books some day -- each one bright and tight and shiny, having spent decades without ever being touched. I’m sure I’d admire that library. But there’s the difference between her collection and mine:

Her books have been admired. Mine have been loved.