Thoughts on Children's Lit

It's been a while since my last post hasn't it been? Well, not to get too personal, but I've been having a rough semester and a very busy one at that. My film production class has left me wondering how I managed to even make it into the film department, my screenwriting class is kicking my butt at this exact moment with too much homework, and even my hundred-level religion class resulted in a shittily graded paper.

But do you want to know what is going pretty freakin' well this semester? My Children's Lit class.

I was just rereading my earlier blog post about The Girl Who Owned a City and thought that I would like to revisit my thoughts from that post about children's literature. I know, this is more of a movies and television blog and I certainly could rant about how this season of Dexter has been so slow or say how I've given up on House for now or commend Community on doing what it does best. I could rave about The Social Network or get unnecessarily excited over going to the new Harry Potter movie midnight release on Thursday night, but I'd much rather discuss the real shining beacon in my life right now, which is, surprisingly, this lit class.

Not that it's perfect. My first paper wasn't great, I haven't had time to do more than a general outline for the paper due this Wednesday, and I'm close but not quite at A level. I've finished some of the reading a bit after it was technically due and I've still yet to cover Twilight in the class, but there are so many interesting things to take away from this class, none of which I can do justice in a blog post at 1:30am, but I can give you a quick survey of the genius that is this class and this subject and my own personal relationship with children's texts.

We kicked off the semester with an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland, but not the whole text (originally on the syllabus, but, amongst a few others such as The Giver, Alice in Wonderland was cut in the end). The Wind in the Willows was next in all its episodic glory (my favorite being Rat's interactions with the traveling Rat he meets). The Secret Garden introduced me to Dickon and re-introducing me to creepy crushes on children (this would continue with Will Parry as I was inspired to reread The Subtle Knife during my "free time"). I even ventured into the world of fan fiction veer so briefly before realizing that writing Dickon's manner of speech accurately removed any sexiness. My desires for attractiveness and accuracy conflicted. Peter and Wendy told me that I really just didn't like the story of Peter Pan very much after all. The Twins at St. Clare's reminded me of my childhood addiction to series like The Boxcar Children and The Babysitter's Club: basic children's books that nobody really takes seriously after a certain age. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe told me that, no, I don't like Narnia and The Last Battle that The Amber Spyglass did religion better. Also, we approached The Problem of Susan, and I started to get my ideas for my coming paper, wanting to approach my gender's role in all of this. What's so wrong with wanting invitations and nylons? On the flipside, we went over to The Golden Compass, one of my favorite books ever, and I was reminded how great the characters were and how one of my future cats should be named Iorek. The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm showed me another female character, though not the main protagonist, that I had originally written off but embraced by the end. Howl's Moving Castle was brilliant and I wonder how I'd never read it as a child. Officially decided another future cat shall be named Howl. I was also reminded that I am a sucker for a good literary romance - what's so wrong with Sophie and Howl having a happily ever after? Many of my classmates contested. Perhaps it's best we only read The Golden Compass and didn't introduce my beloved Will Parry. The Devil's Arithmetic brought me back to my middle school reading habits: American Revolution or Holocaust children's literature. How depressing! Magic made a comeback and time travel and another female protagonist, how fantastic! Finally, most recently, we've come to a collection of picture books and Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes. I don't remember ever reading any of the books: Where the Wild Things Are, Pat the Bunny, Goodnight Moon, Harold and the Purple Crayon, William's Doll, or Princess Smartypants.

Just take a glimpse through my notes from class sometime and you'll see a crazy amalgamation of ideas and concepts because in examining children's literature, it's not unlike examining adult's literature - there's quite a bit of everything. Adults have serialized literature that may not be brilliantly written, adults have historical drama and stories steeped in gender roles and fantasy and religion and science fiction. But when examining a whole group of literature, I never want to stop reading. I realized that today as I sat in the library, reading from our Oxford companion, filled with interesting essays on different topics in children's literature, we'd only read seven chapters of sixteen. I wanted to read them all! In fact, I want to read the gender roles chapter in time for my paper. I want to read the other dozens of books referenced.

Literature feels like a much more endless supply than movies or television. Not that one could watch the entirety of cinematic or televised history in a lifetime, but those mediums are so different from novels and poetry and essays and everything in-between. Children's movies are interesting and all, but there's something so much narrower about that library than the library of children's books. For exampls, film versions of these stories. Howl's Moving Castle was completely redefined and centered around a tale Miyazaki wanted to tell rather than the actual book's plot. The Narnia movies were even more ridiculous than the books, in my opinion. The Golden Compass, while well-cast, was watered down. I still have yet to see The Secret Garden. Peter Pan, the animated version, tries to simplify a simple story. Peter Pan, the live-action 2003 film, takes a completely different approach to the material, one which I might even like more than the book. And while Where the Wild Things is a good movie, in my opinion, it is an elongated version of the picture book from which the title hails. And that movie wasn't really made for kids so much as nostalgic adults.

There's a much more stream-lined narrative and style for "children's movies" than for children's books. Some of the worries centered around children's literature are much more apparent in movies for kids. Whereas some books are overly instructive or didactic, most movies for children are built around some life lesson moral that is hammered into the audience. Even in well-made features, such as Howl's Moving Castle, there is no escaping something so very clear. And gender roles are even worse in film, generally speaking.

I've always thought to myself which movies I would want to show my non-existent kids, being mostly a movie person. But I'm more interested now in understanding what books I also want them to read. The television I want them to watch. The games and toys I want them to enjoy. There is so much to learn, but even more to simply observe, to enjoy conflicting narratives that teach different lessons, allowing my kids their own agency of decision-making. It's easy to forget that kids aren't people too, but I'm still somewhat young enough to remember how intensely I thought about certain things and how not-intensely I thought about others.

Now is different. Now I see anything and I'm almost afraid I might over-analyze it. Everyday conversations involve some semblance of intellectualism. Ahh, college students, how they converse and interact. How they drag in the challenging of the concept of canon based on their children's lit reading from a couple weeks ago. But it feels so good to talk about those things, to have that perspective. Some might call it snobbery or elitism or silly to waste time learning about children's lit but there are so many ways to understand children, a huge part of this world, and one of which is to observe what goes into these texts and what comes out, whether it be in a college classroom or a child's bedroom.

My apologies for making this blog post so inherently steeped in my personal life. Unfortunately, I really don't have strong opinions about any movies or television I've watched lately (well, maybe except that the last few episodes of Glee have been a huge step up since the back nine, which were sometimes essentially unwatchable). Oh, well, I guess there's one big announcement: amidst my personal ~drama, I've started watching The Wire, which I am understanding to be one of the best television shows ever? Well, I'm certainly liking it. Liking it enough to start the second season rather than read the screenplays I need to for Tuesday.

A Twitter Trend I Can Get Behind.

Inception, Inception, Inception. It's the talk of the town, isn't it? I know I, for one, have been fangirling all over that thing for months. But, to be quite honest, I've quieted down a lot about it in recent weeks as it really approached. I've been excited for it, yes, but I was avoiding learning too much, theorizing too much, because I really like the experience of seeing a movie without truly knowing what you are going to get out of it. I had seen the basic trailers, but I avoided the spoilers, the plot details, pretty much all of it beyond the very basics everyone knew.

It paid off for me. I didn't even see the movie on opening day; I'd been thinking about a midnight screening, but had made plans to see it today and thought I might as well wait a couple extra days. I took my time, heard bits and pieces of the critiques, and just went into the movie without knowing precisely what I was getting.

I personally quite loved Inception. It was smart without being pretentious or much over my head, its cast was amazing, its technical side was stunning (that score! that cinematography! that EDITING!), and it was just an engrossing tale. Of course I applaud Christopher Nolan for his originality, but also for his dedication and his skill in bringing this fascinating tale to life. I thought the pace was tremendous as well, and like my favorite "long" movies, it didn't feel long in the least. I was thrilled to see more and more and more.

If I am to make a small comparison to The Dark Knight, however, I would say that the pace is better in Inception. I know there is some criticism about the ever-high tension of The Dark Knight, which I personally loved, and is still very much apparent in Inception. However, as Inception works in the layers that it does of the dream world, rather than through a straight time-line of different conflicts in The Dark Knight, the ever-heightened tension works better for Inception. That is really the only comparison I want to make between the two, because their handling is not so different despite their much different stories and tones in regards to the pacing of the films.

I want to watch Inception again, of course, before I really decide how much I liked it. I do know that I want the Academy to recognize it because it is brilliant and it is well-crafted and it is original. I know that many will argue that Christopher Nolan deserves his due because of the snub for The Dark Knight, but that's not why I want him to get recognized. I want him to get recognized because he has done consistently great work and this may not be his most critically-acclaimed film, but it is clearly one he poured himself into and is so very much his.

No matter if the Academy ends up acknowledging Nolan despite their snub of The Dark Knight and his work on it, they still snubbed a great modern film two years ago. Call me a fangirl all you want, but The Dark Knight is a freakin' fantastic movie and of all the Academy snubs in recent years, that is one of the most egregious, in my opinion.

But back to Inception. I really don't have a whole lot to say about it because though certain things stand out, every moment was as well-crafted as the last and the next. I did not see and points that made it weak. In its own concept, in its own world, it was done just right. Are there better movies, better tales both original and adapted? Sure, probably. But that does not take away from Inception's perfection in and of itself. I, personally, wouldn't change a thing about it. I wouldn't dare touch it.

The Girl Who Owned a City

Call me obsessed with revisiting my childhood and I probably wouldn't call you wrong. I mean, I just saw Toy Story 3 for the second time yesterday, I just finished the final installment in the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson series that I first picked up in my early teens by the suggestion of a friend, and I just reread The Girl Who Owned a City for the first time in nearly ten years.

When I first read The Girl Who Owned a City, I was 11 years old and in sixth grade. We read it for class, although I don't remember the why. I loved the book but it terrified me as well. I mean, I was eleven and the book depicts the story of an adult-less world where the oldest people still alive are twelve. I would've been the older generation. Not to mention that as much as my parents sometimes frustrated me, I didn't want them to die. I remember, after finishing the book, going up to my mother, crying and hugging her and telling her that I didn't want a plague to kill her.

Well, luckily it hasn't and now being well over the age of twelve, if the plague came true, I'd be dead. I expected this to be a reassuring thought, but honestly, the book still struck me just as much as it did when I was eleven. I won't be crying and hugging my mother not to die, but... wow, what a depressing book.

There were two major thoughts that ran through my head after I finished it. Firstly, where was the sequel??? I mean, what a cliffhanger! Lisa is returned to power in her city of Glenbard, but only after provoking a far-away army who is off to join the King of Chicago and his army of roughly 5,000. Even Lisa acknowledges that the army of Chicago was bound to come after them sooner or later at the end of the book. I'm just left there wondering what the hell happens next in this post-apocalyptic world.

The second, of course, was how much I want this book to be a movie. It would be such a glorious failure. The problem, of course, is that it is such a dark book, really. Dead bodies are never explicitly stated to be anywhere, but their presence is implied. Not to mention small children learning how to fire weapons and make molotov cocktails. Tom Logan gets oil burned down his face, Lisa gets shot, and Jill has to remove the freakin' bullet. The Girl Who Owned a City is an R-rated movie, but all of its characters are children. The thing is, not a one of them is innocent.

Which is simply twisted and hard to forgive. I love the story and, though it isn't the best-written thing in the universe, I think it is fascinating and I want to read it again and again. Not everyone, however, can appreciate children being violent and doing adult things. Just take a peek at the uproar over Hit-Girl in Kick-Ass and multiply that times a thousand because The Girl Who Owned a City is full of hundreds of Hit-Girls, all trained to kill and torture. I mean, they literally mention torture in the book! Children torturing each other for information!

The Girl Who Owned a City reminds me of The Road, unsurprisingly. I mean, they're both these post-apocalyptic stories of the fight between "good" and "evil" but the lines are really blurred. The only thing that truly separates The Man and his son from the rest of the survivors is their refusal to turn into cannibals. Aside from that, they are equally violent when need be. All the children in The Girl Who Owned a City have to turn violent, whether it is for attack or defense. And though The Girl Who Owned a City gives a supposedly brighter future, the last page is so depressing that I can't help but wonder how long the city of Glenbard can last before the world turns into a world not unlike The Road where civilization is too far gone for anyone to even dream of rebuilding it the way Lisa does and instead all they can do is what the gangs do - steal and kill to survive. Both tales are incredibly depressing and though The Road is much more wonderfully written and definitely more depressing and incredibly inappropriate for children, The Girl Who Owned a City also tells a compelling take and is still quite depressing and is a bit inappropriate for children. Granted, I heartily appreciate having read it when I was young enough to fit myself into the story.

I don't normally dedicate this blog to books because, not going to lie, I do not do a lot of book-reading anymore. I was a much more avid reader when I was younger (although, to be fair, I did just read three books in less than twenty-four hours). But, my goodness, do not make the mistake of thinking that I don't love them. The Girl Who Owned a City does not need to be a movie, of course. My only inclination to bring it in that direction is to make up for some of the weak writing in the book. And I love the book so much, I would just want to work on a project with it, whether it be a sequel or a movie, because I simply want to continue to live within that sad, awesome world.

Again, that brings me back to my earlier point, about how a movie version would be a total failure. I cannot see an audience who would want to watch children suffer and toil in a world with no help and little hope. They would call it insensitive and cruel and depressing. But this is one of those moments when I really feel like a filmmaker, like an artist rather than an entertainer. I don't care about the audience, to be frank. I'd want to make this movie because it is a beautiful story, whatever you say, and it deserves to be told over and over again.

Lisa, for all her bossiness, never would have made me think of myself when I was younger. I was whiny and did not want to live in her world - most of the time. Maybe it was after reading the book, maybe it was before, but I tried to imagine a harder world where I would have to fight to survive. What if my parents died? What if we had a fire and lost everything in our house? What if I lost my voice or my hearing or my sight? All these "what if"s and more plagued me and I would make secret loots in case of anything. A "just in case" bag filled with things if I needed to run away. Hotel shampoo bottles that had been cleaned out and filled with water hidden around the house "just in case." And Lisa's attitude, her beautiful, brilliant attitude, that if she can toughen up then everyone can toughen up, reminds me so painfully of myself that it hurts. It is not an uncommon flaw, but it is a harsh one, to forget that it is hard work to grow and some people just have not gone through it. It is also not uncommon and just as harsh to forget that no matter how much we've grown, there is so much more growing to do. Both of Lisa's major flaws are ones I see in myself which, though I am nearly twice her age, make me feel like a child again.

Sure, I may be revisiting my childhood, but what is so wrong there? There are so many beautiful lessons and important messages to be found and reminded of. Only just a few days ago was I listening to Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone on audiobook, listening to the chapter, "The Mirror of Erised" and Dumbledore's conversation with Harry toward the end of the book when I remembered why I fell in love with Harry Potter all those years ago. It was for the wonderful things J.K. Rowling had to share about life and death and friendship and courage and fear and so on and so forth. I am so excited for my Introduction to Children and Young Adult Literature class this coming fall where I will get to read literature supposedly for children and young adults, but really for all of us.

After all, many animated movies aren't just for children either, even if they can be - thank you Pixar and DreamWorks.

Toy Story 3

This is a comment I posted on awardsdaily.com on this newspost.

"I need to see this again. I was too emotionally crazed to really be able to tolerate anyone saying it was less than perfection. But I was in tears from the beginning, when we saw how many toys had disappeared over the years (not unlike my own storage units in the family garage, which are missing most of my old childhood toys), and barely held it together in the end when Andy played with his toys one last time with Bonnie. I was afraid I was going to audibly sob I couldn't stop crying.

Toy Story 3 may not be the best storytelling of some of the other films, but it is also clearly an installment in a franchise, which makes it different from most of the films. It is, indeed, its most emotional though. I have never been more touched by a movie in my life, but that's something my generation, who were kids when Toy Story first came out, and Toy Story 2, and now are coming back for thirds having been in Andy's exact place, is bound to experience. But I think it's something all adults can relate to and all kids will dread relating to (if I were young enough to still have toys in my room, you know I'd have gone home to instantly play with them for hours). Watching Woody, Buzz, and the gang go through all their trials is like watching what happens to your childhood, hoping that it doesn't get destroyed, but knowing it will never be the same as it was before, which is just as heart-breaking.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to rationally discuss Toy Story 3 because it just touched a place in me I'd forgotten I had. The first two feel so quaint and sweet these days, but this movie just feels too real, almost too personal, though I was never as cool a kid as Andy was, and I didn't love my toys quite the same way he did. But I think that just proves all the more what a fantastic movie it is, that it strikes a cord so strong that everything else beyond the tears and laughter is creates, doesn't really matter. It reminds me of Ego's review in Ratatouille, like all brilliant things do, and how technicalities and hard-hearts and reality aside, beauty is beauty and there are some things that are simply beyond proper criticism."

It'll be a long time before I can sum up my feelings on Toy Story 3 (I only left the theater about two hours ago), but I think the first reaction matters almost as much as the last. And, boy oh boy, have I got a first reaction. I know it's still soon after, but this was just one of those movie-going experiences where I feel like I'm a different person on the other side and I have no idea how I've changed, but I just feel it, but it could also be the emotional overload from the past few hours... it's too confusing.

But I do know that I dug my stuffed animals out of a trash bag in my brother's room, gave them a talking to about how much I love them, and set several of them around my room, including my poor, mistreated American Girl dolls.

YARGH VIKINGS!

Earlier this evening, I went to see How to Train Your Dragon, fully aware that this screening would include lots of children. It's been a while since I've been afraid to see a movie by myself and that includes "children's" movies. Some movies, yes, are explicitly made for those under eight-years-old and can only really be appreciated by that crowd. But the best children's movies aren't exclusive to just children.

The only real downside aside from looking like a creeper to being probably the only person over 12 without a child in the vicinity (and if anyone else was my age or older without a child there, they likely brought a friend or date) is that the little children who are unable to whisper might destroy my enjoyment. This isn't the first time I've dealt with this, though; I saw Ratatouille, WALL-E, Up, and The Princess and the Frog in theatres filled with many children while I myself was old enough to be in the alternative R-rated films by myself. And while there were some very unhushed whispering, I managed to enjoy the movie anyway.

Well, actually, it was more than enjoy. How to Train Your Dragon was fantastic. The plot wasn't particularly surprising, but that doesn't make it any less enjoyable or any less well-done. I enjoyed those ninety-something minutes so much, so glad that despite being sick with a cold and plagued by an obnoxious headache, I made it out to see that movie, even with whispering tykes and a preview for what looks like the stupidest movie ever with a pornalicious title (FURRY VENGEANCE... REALLY?).

I'll never stop myself from seeing a movie just because its genre isn't made for me. My gender and my age have nothing to do with the movies I choose to see. I skip the bad rom coms (usually) and I absolutely love a good action flick (I even see some of the bad ones). I'll pass over some of the more dramatic fare made for my young adult status for animated films typically geared toward the younger generation, a la How to Train Your Dragon. Like many of the Pixar films I adore, How to Train Your Dragon follows in that grand tradition of being accessible for children and adults. I may be nearly twenty, I may have seen roughly a thousand movies, I may have seen many an experimental film, but I will not be jaded. A tale of a Viking boy and his fierce dragon is a tale worth seeing.

Simply put: How to Train Your Dragon was great. I highly recommend it for anyone.

Countdown to Kick-Ass: 19 days. YES.