whisper only

Today was library day.  We are an Anglo-Saxon family who love to walk up and down the rows of books, with our little slips of paper with call letters written down on them, while other families are out working on their tans.  

We attack the row of computers like hungry wolves devouring prey, sure we are going to find that Star Wars book we have not read yet.  And there was a period of about a year when Syd really wanted to be a librarian.  That's when we knew we had to develop some other interests for the children.

As Syd and Ben get older, it's become more of a challenge to find a good read for them.  They are both working their way through Lord of the Rings and the Narnia series, but it requires their full concentration, something they are not always will to give. They love fantasy.  

There are tons of children's books containing fantasy.  Some of them are good. I use this set of guidelines for ruling out books in the fantasy/sci-fi section that are not so good:

1)  If the children on the cover have glowing red eyes, hair coming out of their pointed ears and fangs, probably it's not going home with us.

2) If it's a series about winged creatures (as in owls), possessed cats or teenage girls on the make, the boys aren't interested.

3)  If the word Puppet is written in blood next to a swastika, probably also not going home with us.

4) Semi-nude angels in the woods posed as dark warriors.  Hmm, wonder if Hansel and Gretal knew them?

Today I helped Ben find a book.  

"What about something from 'Little House on the Prairie'?" I say as we pass several volumes on a shelf.

"No, they are too sad," he replies.  "Someone is always going blind. Where are the Young Indiana Jones books?"

Soon he is handing me a book.  "Young Indiana Jones and the Trek of Doom," I say.  "Well, that should be a happy story," I say as I put it in the book bag.

We check out the library's DVDs next.  I'll admit I coerced my boys into watching all 3 volumes of "Anne of Green Gables" this summer.  Nothing to be ashamed of there. They clapped when it was all over; a long, celebratory clap - but I know they secretly loved it.   They cheered when Anne broke her classroom slate over Gilbert's head.

"Here's Annie," I say, "have you ever seen this musical?"

Ben takes the DVD from my hand.  "Hey - here's Anne of Green Gables," he says as he also pulls her off the shelf.  "Annie vs.  Anne of Green Gables!  You know, like a wrestling match!  Ur, urr, urr," he growls as the DVD's war.  Several heads look up from the magazine tables.  "Hi," I say to the inquiring faces.  

We end up at the check-out counter with Indiana Jones, How to Draw Aliens, How to Draw Bugs, Secrets of the Siren, and a Zits anthology. Maybe not what C.S. Lewis read as a child, but then again, maybe so.  

Who's to really say?