As America approaches election day, I have been thinking of this poem by Sheenagh Pugh:

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide that they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

I notice, on her website, that she grants permission to reproduce it on blogs... and that she is "sick of it." You can read her sentiments here: http://sheenagh.googlepages.com/thedreadedsometimes.

Welcome to another entry on this occasional blog. A reason that I don't post more frequently is that an academic life is busy. Non-academics may, I imagine, scoff at the previous sentence. "What? You teach a few days a week, and have summers off? You call that 'work'?" they may say — or, rather, scoff. For me as for many other academics, summer is a time to devote to research and writing: so, it's true that I'm not being paid during those months (I save during the year to have enough in the summer). But I do research, write, attend conferences, give talks, etc. During the school year, research has to be balanced with teaching and service. So, in the "teaching" category, there's preparing to teach, grading quizzes and tests, meeting with students, time actually in the classroom, undergraduate advising, etc. And in the "service" category, there's keeping the bureaucracy running by serving on committees within the university and beyond it, reviewing articles and manuscripts for journals and publishers, and (in my case) maintaining websites. However, the activity most valued within the profession is research, which is visible in the form of books, articles, and conference presentations.

So, instead of posting something on the blog, I try to devote most of my writing time towards the stuff that counts. I'm currently co-editing one book, and writing another — a biography of Crockett Johnson (author of Harold and the Purple Crayon) and his spouse, Ruth Krauss (author of The Carrot Seed and A Hole Is to Dig).

The biography is easily the most challenging task I've ever undertaken. Writing a biography is like assembling a vast jigsaw puzzle when you don't know how many pieces there are, there's no picture on the box, and, in fact, no box at all. To be a biographer requires you to be equal parts detective, journalist, scholar, archivist, historian, and creative writer. Detective because I track down information, digging through public records: census data, wills, property deeds, birth certificates, marriage certificates. Journalist because I interview people, transcribe the interviews, follow leads. I've talked to Maurice Sendak, Remy Charlip, Andy Rooney, the late Syd Hoff, the late Mischa Richter, and over 75 others you may or may not have heard of. Scholar because I must interpret what I've found. For example, why did Ruth's 1993 obituary in the local paper list her age as 91, when many references sources list her birth year as 1911? Was she 91 or 81 when she died? Her cousin's spouse, Betty Hahn, and her birth certificate both confirm a 1901 birthdate. Why the ten-year discrepancy? Well, Ruth liked to say, "You're only as old as other people think you are, so always lie about your age — and preferably in increments of ten, because it's easier to keep track of it." In other words, Ruth's lies actually entered the official record. So, it's fairly obvious why I must be part archivist: only by keeping track of everything can I cross-reference and put this vast jigsaw together. At present, I have five filing cabinet drawers devoted to this project (plus more files on the floor, because they don't all fit in the cabinet), three bookshelves full, dozens of cassette tapes, some mp3 files, and original art by Crockett Johnson. (I also have a very patient and supportive spouse.) I must also be part historian because I try to situate events in their lives historically: Ruth was at the Parsons School of Design in the late 1920s, but what does it mean to be at Parsons in the late 1920s? Crockett was Art Editor of New Masses in the 1930s, but what does that mean? And, finally, I must be part creative writer because I'm telling a story.

Fortunately, I have many models to follow — and, in this age of email, I have even contacted some for advice. Leonard Marcus in particular has been very helpful. (Indeed, here might be the moment to mention that I'm borrowing the title of this post from Leonard Marcus's November/December 1999 Horn Book essay on how he came to write the biography of Margaret Wise Brown.) I'm also lucky to have a book contract, and a job that pays the bills. I've been working on this for nearly ten years now (amidst other projects, I admit), and my main rewards here not financial. They are intellectual, professional, and personal. There was a time when most people knew who Crockett Johnson and Ruth Krauss were, and what their contributions were. In writing their lives, I hope to make their writing live again, and to restore Krauss and Johnson to their proper place in American cultural history.

So,... onwards!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYc-k6MjS-M

Harold and The Purple Crayon Valente Branch Cambridge Public Library 826 Cambridge St. Cambridge, MA 02141 (617) 349-4015 Created for the 2008 Librareo Competition with original music, lyrics, and video, this is our glitter rock homage to Crockett Johnson's 1955 children's book classic, "Harold and The Purple Crayon." We hope you'll enj...

Triumphalist tribute to Crockett Johnson's Harold and the Purple Crayon. Fun, and inspires speculation of what a grown-up Harold might have done, after disbanding his glam rock band and before embarking upon a stage career. Enjoy!

Karin and I caught They Might Be Giants at the Beaumont Club in Kansas City last night. I last saw them 20 years ago -- to be precise, in the fall of 1988 (my freshman year of college) in Rochester, New York. At that time, they were touring in support of Lincoln (their second album). The band then consisted of John Flansburgh ("Flans"), John Linnell and a somewhat temperamental drum machine. Back in '88, the Johns would play a few songs -- Flans on guitar, and Linnell on accordion -- and then the drum machine would go on the fritz. While Flans fixed the machine, Linnell entertained the crowd solo. I first heard the TMBG versions of "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" and "Why Does the Sun Shine?" that evening -- both performed by Linnell, accompanying himself on accordion... as Flans tinkered with the technology.

Flash forward to 2008. TMBG is now a full band (and has been, since the mid-1990s): Flans on guitar, Linnell on accordion and keyboards, Marty Beller on drums, Dan Miller on lead guitar (and sometimes acoustic guitar or keyboards), and Danny Weinkauf on bass. The show is much, much tighter, and both Johns clearly relish playing with a full (and excellent) band. During the set, Flans made a point of introducing each member several times. "What was the set?" you ask. True, unless you're a TMBG fan, it's unlikely that you're askin'. But, presuming that you are a fan, here's a set list (reconstructed from memory ... so the order may be a bit off):

* Clap Your Hands
* Doctor Worm
* Particle Man -- this included a comic avant-nonsense interlude performed by Linnell, while the other band members stood stock still, watching him
* Seven -- Flans introduced this as the hit single from their current imaginary hit album. Before that, he said that the band rehearsed for their adult shows, planning each spontaneous rap, every syllable... but they don't do much rehearsing for the kids' shows. So, since they had a kids' show tomorrow, they were playing "Seven" to practice. So, in playing the song, "It's not about you. It's about us," he said.
* Drink! -- Flans introduced this as another children's song, but, since it's about alcoholism, it sometimes confuses them.
* Take out the Trash
* Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal
* Cyclops Rock -- after this song, Linnell said, deadpan, "We rocked the fuck out of that song." Some of the crowd laughed; others cheered. To those members of crowd who cheered, Linnell added, "I was being facetious, in case you couldn't tell."
* The Mesopotamians -- after the conclusion of the song, Flans said that they were performing the songs "in geographical order," which led to...
* Istanbul (Not Constantinople) -- opened with an improvised acoustic guitar jam from Dan Miller
* John Lee Supertaster (music only) -- the music served as an occasion to introduce each band member, and for lots of drumming from "Ladies and Gentlemen, the next President of the United States... Marty Beller!"
* Damn Good Times
* It's Not My Birthday
* Older
* cover of a Phil Spector song about jealousy (I forget the title) -- Flans described the song as the only one in the night's set that was composed by an "acquitted murderer." Linnell asked, "'Acquitted murderer' or 'acquitted of murder'?" And then wryly, he said something like "To ask the question is to know the answer." Flans then offered an ironic verbal riff on the legal system.
* She's an Angel
* Don't Let's Start
* Experimental Film
* New York City
FIRST ENCORE
* Alphabet of Nations
* Letterbox
* James K. Polk
SECOND ENCORE
* the entire Fingertips sequence: Everything's Catching on Fire, Fingertips (Banjo), I Hear the Wind Blow, Hey Now Everybody, Who's That Standing at My Window?, I Found a New Friend, Wreck My Car, Aren't You The Guy?, Please Pass the Milk, Leave Me Alone, Who's Knocking on the Wall?, All Alone By Myself, What's That Blue Thing Doing Here?, Something Grabbed a Hold of My Hand, I Don't Understand You, I Heard a Sound, Mysterious Whisper, The Day That Love Came to Play, I'm Having A Heart Attack, Fingertips (Reprise), I Walk Along Darkened Corridors
* Birdhouse In Your Soul
* The Guitar (The Lion Sleeps Tonight)

TMBG is one of my favorite bands, and put on a great show. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, singing along ... and generally jumping up and down like the manic boy* that I remain. "Doctor Worm," "Mesopotamians," "Istanbul," "Damn Good Times," "Don't Let's Start," "The Guitar" -- TMBGs have many songs good for jumping up and down. Why not put them on and do a bit of jumping yourself? Go ahead. I promise I won't tell the others. Really.

To stick with the (possibly) children's lit theme of this nascent blog, it bears mentioning that, apart from the introduction to "Seven" and "Drink!", they don't distinguish between "kids songs" and "adult songs." The band has always had its share of kid-friendly music. For years, "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" and "Mammal" have been staples of the "children's mixes" I've assembled for friends. So, TMBG's move towards children's music is a natural outgrowth of what TMBG already does. In any case, as Flans pointed out in an interview with the Kansas City star earlier in the week, the distinction between "kids music" and "adult music" is artificial. The Star's Timothy Finn asked, "I assume you can do songs like 'Istanbul' at kids' show, too?" John Flansburgh answered, "Absolutely. This is an obvious thing to say, but kids are different from each other. They like different kinds of music. So, the idea of 'kids music' is as misguided as saying 'teen music.' Please explain."**

Exactly right. I tell my children's lit students something similar when they're offer claims about "what children will like." Each child is different from each other child, just as each adult is from each other adult. So, when we make claims (for example) about "what children will like," we might ask ourselves what that phrase would sound like if we swapped the word "children" for "adults": Would we ever make the claim, "This is a book that adults will enjoy?"

In conclusion, a verse (or so) from TMBG's "Happy Doesn't Have to Have an Ending":

I've got a message for the people of the world:
You've got to know Happy doesn't have to have an ending!
Don't stop the good times when they start!
Come on now!

You've got to know Happy doesn't have to have an ending!
Remember this before we part:
You've got to sing out loud when the music starts
You've got to shake your tail when you hear this part (come on now!)

[end quotation.]

Yes. Yes, indeed. How true that is. Come on now.

-----
* 39 years old, going on 9.
** Timothy Finn, "They Might Have Inner Children," Kansas City Star, 21 May 2008, p. 53.

Hello, and welcome to this blog. It will, I expect, be infrequent. The topics it is likely to address include children's literature, music, language, and (possibly) politics. We'll see.

I'm going to begin with "The Cockney Alphabet," which I learned from my parents when I was a boy. (They lived in London, c. 1965-1968.) To get the humor here, you'll need to read each of these with a Cockney accent -- otherwise, much will be lost. Ready? Put on your best Cockney accent, and read the following out loud:
A for horses
B for mutton
C for yourself
D for dumb
E for brick
F for vescence
G for police
H for retirement
I for Novello
J for oranges
K for ancis
L for leather
M for sis
N for a penny
O for the garden wall
P for relief
Q for rations
R for mo'
S for you
T for two
U for me
V for l'France
W for a bob
X for breakfast
Y for heaven's sake
Z for breezes

Some of those are going to be a bit obscure, even if you get the accent right! Here are a few notes on some of the possibly more confusing ones.
I: Ivor Novello was a popular Welsh singer and actor.
J: Jaffa oranges were a brand of oranges.
K: Kay Francis was an American actress.
Z: zephyr breezes are a type of mild breeze.

There are other versions of this alphabet floating around. Under the title "Twentieth-Century Alphabet," I Saw Esau: The Schoolchild's Pocket Book (ed. Iona & Peter Opie, illus. Maurice Sendak, 1992) prints a slightly different version. Here are a few differences:
I for tower
K for teria
N for dig
P for comfort
Q for a bus
U for mism
W for tune
Y for husband

For the entire thing -- augmented by Sendak's illustrations -- see pp. 100-105.