Lost Time Recovered

Donald Duck Sees South America, Told by H. Marion Palmer, Illustrated by The Walt Disney Studios.

“Way back in the Forties, the United States was pursuing the "Good Neighbor Policy" with South America. As part of the effort, the Walt Disney studios produced The Three Cabelleros and this little book. It was all to promote tourism, good feelings, and trade between the continents, and keep hostile European forces from getting a hold in the area. Along the way it is a very educational and entertaining look at a continent.
No doubt it was this educational content that led to its inclusion in the library at McQueeney Elementary School. Thirty-five years after its publication it was there, and one of the most eagerly sought after reads over all the grades, because of its ties with Disney, which made it seem more entertaining than the rest of the fare … The brilliant color illustrations, the generous line drawing marginalia, are all I remember them to be. The adventures of the neophyte traveler Donald as voyages across South America, his footsteps dogged by the condescending know-it-all Mr. Whelpley, his accommodations always being bumped by the superior importance of El Presidente de la Comision de la America Latina, but always helped by the friendly and hospitable Latin Americans (especially the parrot Jose Carioca), until he ends up a seasoned, feted hero, are still engaging … It is Donald's impetuous, vain, but generous character that emerges in the story that makes it so endearing. His valiant attempts to eat an exotic meal after being mocked by Mr. Whelply for ordering a ham sandwich would put Anthony Bourdain to shame. His impulsive purchase of a kinkajou set up a pet-desire in us boys that lasted for years. After stepping off his canoe and falling down fifty waterfalls when he thinks his guide has said the water was shallow, he decides to learn Spanish in Uruguay, hires fifty tutors to teach him, learns it in three weeks, then finds out that Portuguese is the language in Uruguay. Adventure follows adventure till Donald has earned serious experience points, and ends up rescuing Mr. Whelply in the Amazon, where the know-it-all has amnesia. Donald has the pleasure of re-educating him with all that he now knows about South America, and his hero status allows him to bump El Presidente for his plane seat home.” Bought this copy on E-bay in 2008. There is a companion volume, “Mickey Mouse Sees the U.S.A.” which I would love to get. “H.” Palmer was Helen Palmer, the wife of Dr. Seuss!

Ranking: Essential.

File Code: Travel. Juvenile. Hardback.

Cinders, by Katherine Gibson. Illustrations by Vera Bock.

“It seems to me that I have spoken elsewhere in this blog about what a remarkable time for me the school year of 1973-1974 was. I had turned ten the summer before, and under the tutelage of a remarkable young teacher my reading had taken off, seeking out and obtaining for my own (and not simply for homework) chapter books. That year saw Bed-knob and Broomstick added to my small library, and Journey to The Center of The Earth, The Three Musketeers, Around The World In Eighty Days, and One Hundred And One Dalmatians. That year I also read Cinders, by Katharine Gibson, a book the plot of which I never forgot, but whose title and author eluded me for decades. It is the story of the mouse who was Cinderella's coachman, and who does not turn back at midnight, and who must make his way in the world of men. I looked for it, whenever I went to a used book store. When the internet came along, I searched for it using every combination of terms I could think of. My quest has always been hindered by various red herrings across the path: numerous authors have since written books on same theme. Some months ago, I discovered the blog Collecting Children's Books, by librarian and author Peter Sieruta. Thinking that someone with such knowledge and resources about children's books as he evinced might surely be of some help, I wrote him an e-mail giving him the details and asking his aid. He posted the request on his blog, and within a week to my joy it was answered, and by none other than Laura Amy Schlitz, author of Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Within a week and a half of that I had my own copy from eBay and was once again reading a book I hadn't seen in 37 years or so. Cinders opens with the eponymous hero alone in the windy darkness before closed castle gates, the last stroke of midnight still vibrating on the air. Close to him is a shattered pumpkin shell and some rats and mice scurrying away; he catches a brief glimpse of a girl in tattered clothes fleeing crying into the dark. He has no idea who he is or what he is. When he wanders into the royal stable the only name he can give for himself is Cinders, which is the single half-memory still in his head. Cinders is a small, slight, mousy man, with pointy ears and nose and bright, beady little eyes, and he is dressed all in gray. He is smaller even than the loutish stable boys who work for the head groom, and when the groom hires him to work with in the stable there is some bullying and doubts about his abilities. Through industriousness, politeness, and kindness, however, he makes a place for himself, and when he heals Flash, the King's favorite horse, through his instinctive knowledge of animals, Cinders becomes a favorite in his circle. Cinders is put to the test when Cinderella's prince is in danger of falling into a trap, and a swift messenger is needed to warn him. Taking off on his own on Flash through dangerous enemy territory, the mousy little man is able through speed, stealth, and smallness to save the Prince by delivering his message. As a reward, after Cinderella is re-united with the Prince and they wed, Cinders is made the Royal Coachman, fulfilling his destiny. "Flash," he said, "at last, I know who I am and where I belong. Flash, right now and here, I am Cinderella's Coachman. I always have been." Cinders was published in 1939 by Katharine Gibson, who wrote at least four other books for children. Gibson passed away in 1960. The book was reprinted in 1969; it was probably (but not certainly) this edition I read in school. The illustrations are by Vera Bock. While I was re-reading it at last, I became aware of how deep this little book had sunk into my mind. First of all, it was a sort of proto-evangelion in my experience for The Hobbit; both heroes are as small as children, and originally looked down upon by people who measure worth in inches or fierceness. Cinders is described as being no bigger than a ten-years-old child (and remember I was then exactly ten myself) and that is an age when you can suddenly become very aware of yourself and wonder both about where you came from, your place in the world, and where you are going. I also found on re-reading that I had somehow subconsciously based a character in the children's book I had written largely on Cinders, in at least appearance. My character Thornbriar (a Field Elf) also wears a high hat with a wide brim, a long coat, and pointed shoes with buckles. He is about four feet high, has pointed ears and a long nose that (to my astonishment) twitches just like Cinders', a detail I swear I never remembered. But there it is. Cinders is a delightful book, and deserves to be republished, but I wonder if it ever can be, as things stand. I don't know if the kind of children it was written for are being produced in any quantity now; the kids of our age seem to pass so quickly from innocent to ironic I don't know if the idyllic qualities of this book would ever appeal to a large enough audience. But there is always the hope that it could still be passed on from admirers to their children, and that this work, already over seventy years old, might linger a while yet.” – Power of Babel.

Ranking: Oh, so Essential.

File Code: Children’s Novel. Fantasy. Hardback.

George, by Agnes Sligh Turnbull. Illustrated by Trina Hyman.

“It's about a rabbit named George, who wears glasses and helps a brother and sister with their life. It was an obscure little volume, and I'd been searching the Internet for it for ten years, at least, without a clue to author or publisher. Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that the world-wide web had finally been spun fine enough to catch my memories, and George, by Agnes Sligh Turnbull, turned up on the radar. Within a week I had a nice, inexpensive ex-library copy in my hands, and could see that all the details that I could remember were accurate. I read it in less than an hour (it is only ninety-four pages long, and that is with many good line drawings by Trina Hyman). When I put it down I was pleased but puzzled. It was a nice book, but there seemed nothing particularly excellent or special about it. Why had it teased and hung onto my memory over all these years? George H., a talking rabbit who wears glasses (he doesn't need them, but inherited them from his grandfather, a Belgian hare), turns up at the Weaver household. He helps the mother calm her migraines by letting her pet him (without revealing his unusual talents); but he talks to the children Milly and Tommy, helping them with their manners, their homework, and their vocabulary; the common-sense, working father never sees George and remains skeptical till the end, when he finds George's glasses. George leaves, in best Mary Poppins fashion, when he has solved many of the family's problems. Perhaps that's why it impressed itself so on me at the time. Perhaps I wanted a secret mentor and friend to help me with my life (and anyone who thinks a ten-year-old doesn't have problems isn't remembering things correctly or was just extraordinarily lucky). The family was just enough like mine that I could squeeze us into their situation. And the odd thing is, looking back, that even pretending at the time to have an imaginary friend helped. Asking myself what someone like George would do, and then doing it myself, helped me get through. I suppose, in a more rarified and advanced way, I still do the same thing. As anyone who has regularly read this blog knows, I have been gathering many of the old books I read when I was a child. This has been not only an exercise in nostalgia and delight, but in an odd way one of retroactive self-analysis. When I started this entry, I had no idea it would lead me where it has. But there it is.” “Of course Bunny Rabbit on "Captain Kangaroo" was a rabbit with glasses; the most famous imaginary friend was Harvey the six-foot invisible rabbit; and just when I finished this post I turned on the TV and quite by coincidence found "Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends' which has a six-foot rabbit with a monocle. In an odd way, humanity, and to a certain extant especially Americans, have identified with rabbits and mice. They are plentiful, common, humble, wily, and fertile; we are Br'er Rabbit and Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse. They are small folk up against a big world.” - Power of Babel, 2011.

Ranking: Essential.

File Code: Fantasy. Children’s Book. Hardback.