Preschool Archives | Page 30 of 30 | Little Book, Big Story

June 7, 2013 / 6 Comments

The Chronicles of Narnia

I realize that, at first glance, this post may strike you as superfluous. We all know that The Chronicles of Narnia are awesome and most of us have hoped, since childhood, that some unassuming cupboard or closet would—just this once—take us there. These books have rightfully secured a shelf of honor in any children’s library, Christian or no, and are probably sitting on your shelves right now. So, why am I writing about them?

I’ll answer that question with a question: you’ve read them, of course, but have you read them all?

The Chronicles of Narnia | Little Book, Big Story

Perhaps, you had a well-meaning teacher who introduced you to The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Maybe you read that book and loved it, and gave the next few books of the series a try before you got a new set of Legos and forgot all about everything after The Silver Chair. Perhaps, in this fictional scenario that is loosely based on my own life, you didn’t realize that things got much, much better after A Horse and His Boy and just, well, lost interest in Narnia for a time.

If that is your story or something like it, then I hope that your story ends like mine did: with a dazzling rediscovery of Narnia when you, as an adult, could see layer upon layer of truth and beauty embedded within the story, so potent that it made you weep at least once per book (or was that just me?). Without exaggeration, I can say that reading the entire series at nineteen shaped the way I view both this world and the world after, and I am forever indebted to C. S. Lewis for that.

So, I’m not writing about The Chronicles of Narnia in the hope of introducing you to something new, but to gently remind you that the series is meant to be taken as a whole. To read two or three books but not the rest is to sample ingredients without trying the finished dish—you miss the richness and complexity (the beautiful complexity!) of a masterfully woven tale as it arcs from book to book.

A few notes, now, on reading these books with your child. I began The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe with my daughter when she was four. I was a little apprehensive because we had just left the Little House books, so she had plenty of experience with cozy family scenes but none at all with battles and evil witches. I wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for that but my theory when choosing books to read is, “Round up,” as in, always read just a little above what I think she’s ready for. So I took a deep breath, cracked open the book and hoped that the beauty of the story would outweigh everything else.

I’ll be honest: Lydia wasn’t immediately sold, not until the kids reached the Beavers’ house and then she announced, “I liked that chapter,” with a happy sigh. After that came wolves and betrayal and more of the White Witch, but with all of that came Aslan! We took the two crucial chapters in one sitting, and when I stopped sobbing long enough to sniffle out Aslan’s emphatic “Yes!” (you know which part I’m talking about), the game had forever changed. Lydia has answered to Susan ever since, and we’re deep into A Horse and His Boy with two more books to go.

So, you may not think your child is ready for them, but you might be pleasantly surprised. Once you get going, though, keep going! Even if it gets slow and your child seems to lose interest in spots, keep going! The story always picks up again. And if the language feels dated and you’re not sure if your child is following it, just know that you’ll be rewarded one day by hearing them exclaim, “Oh, bother!” when they drop their sliced apple. The gifts of Narnia are many and varied.

One Last Note

We purchased the set linked below, with full color illustrations by Pauline Baynes. There are more pictures and they’re beautiful, and I really think that helped Lydia get into the story. They are definitely a step up from the old black and white editions (ours were actually disintegrating in my hands as we read), and they’re worth every penny.

The Chronicles of Narnia
C. S. Lewis, Pauline Baynes (1950-1956)

May 10, 2013 / 0 Comments

Winnie-the-Pooh

As a new parent, I thought I hated Winnie-the-Pooh. I was thinking of Disney, of course, and all I saw was the pudgy dumpling of a bear that turned up on everything from bouncy seats to diapers. I lumped Pooh in with the bland children’s programming that I couldn’t stand—Barney, Blue’s Clues and Dora, to name a few—and I had not forgotten the Heffalumps of my own childhood. (They were frightening.)

But then, I picked up a copy of Winnie-the-Pooh at my mom’s house and within sentences realized that I had badly misjudged that silly old bear. I borrowed that book and began reading it to Lydia, then two-and-a-half and recently a big sister. Winnie-the-Pooh was her first chapter book, and reading it together became a sweet point in our day: during the baby’s morning nap, every day, we snuggled up on the couch and read about Pooh and Piglet and Eyeore and all of them, really. I was never sure how much she understood, but she never got restless and always wanted more.

Now it’s Sarah’s turn. She’s two-and-a-half and already smitten with the whole cast of characters, so we curl up before her nap and read a little every day. She’s taken to telling me stories about Pooh (which, sadly, I can’t always understand). But I love them.

The amply illustrated, short story format has seemed to fit my girls nicely, but having recommended Winnie-the-Pooh to other families whose kids have had no interest in it until the seventh or tenth try, I have concluded that there is no “right” age for Pooh. Your kids may not take to Milne right away, but try it again in a few months: everyone, it seems, warms up to Pooh eventually. Especially grown-ups.

The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh
A. A. Milne, Ernest Shepherd (1926)

May 3, 2013 / 0 Comments

The Jesus Storybook Bible

From the moment that we first met, I knew that The Jesus Storybook Bible was a treasure among children’s Bibles. Even then, I didn’t appreciate how wonderful it was until I encountered another, more old-school, children’s Bible and found that, where The Jesus Storybook Bible treats Scripture as a seamless, coherent whole, the stories in the old-school Bible kept an awkward distance from each other, like students at a junior high dance. That old school Bible made no effort to weave the parts into a whole, or to answer the pressing question, “Why do these stories matter?” Even to a child, it’s clear that most of the people in the Bible behave badly, so why must we read about them?

Enter Sally Lloyd-Jones:

. . . the Bible isn’t a book of rules, or a book of heroes. The bible is most of all a Story. It’s an adventure story about a young Hero who comes from a far country to win back his lost treasure. It’s a love story about a brave Prince who leaves his palace, his throne—everything—to rescue the one he loves. It’s like the most wonderful of fairy tales that has come true in real life!

You see, the best thing about this Story is—it’s true.

Every story in The Jesus Storybook Bible is told eloquently, with the occasional endearing aside to the reader, and every one ends on a note of hope: he is coming! The Savior—who will break that curse, heal that wound, fulfill that prophecy—is coming!

These stories matter because they are all about Jesus. Lloyd-Jones makes that plain, even in the subtitle of the book: Every story whispers his name. They all point toward him, are fulfilled in him, are significant because of him.

As parents reading this to our 18-month-old daughter for the first time, we were stunned to hear such massive truths articulated so clearly, and we found ourselves moved as we read about Leah, unloved by man but beloved of God, or Zaccheaus, who didn’t have any friends (none)—until Jesus befriended him.

The Jesus Storybook Bible shows the Bible not as a dusty tome of ancient lore or as a thesis on wishful thinking, but as a book that matters because it is true. So many different authors, spanning centuries and cultures, sat down to write their own chapters of that one, seamless book, detailing God’s “Never-Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love,” and Lloyd-Jones conveys the magnitude and complexity of that with joy, grace and just the right sort of humor.

And I haven’t even touched on Jago’s illustrations. They are glorious.

We have read this book dozens of times. We’re on our second copy of it actually, as the first has been lovingly manhandled by our small daughters. My husband even uses it when leading Bible study discussions (sometimes, even college students benefit from full color illustrations). But certain passages still take my breath away as I read them, still delight as though I’d never heard them before, and best of all, drive me to my Bible to dig into the stories with a new enthusiasm.

The Jesus Storybook Bible
Sally Lloyd-Jones, Jago (2007)

March 8, 2013 / 2 Comments

Adam and Eve

When illustrating the story of Adam and Eve, one must confront that Obvious Question: just what kind of fruit did Eve eat?

No, no. Forgive me. I jest.

What I meant to say was, “Adam and Eve were naked. How does one handle that gracefully in a children’s book?”

Or, in other words, what did it look like to be naked and unashamed? (Before the Fall, I mean. We’re confronted fairly regularly with what folks think that looks like now, and I must say, that is no subject for a children’s book.)

The fact is, one can only use so many strategically placed leaves and limbs before the images begin to feel contrived, and yet one cannot have Adam and Eve simply stride around in their birthday suits. Right?

I picked up a copy of Warwick Hutton’s book at our local library, thumbed through it briefly and took it home. It wasn’t until I sat down to read it to my four-year-old that I realized that Hutton disagreed on that point: in his telling, Adam and Eve can and do stride around in the buff. And I think he made the right call.

As I reread Adam and Eve, I began to realize that while his depictions of Adam and Eve are, well, anatomically correct, there is a certain delicacy to his style that ensures that there is nothing vulgar about them. Instead, his images display an honesty that I didn’t realize had been missing from the other versions I’d read of Creation and the Fall. All those branches and oddly positioned animals may have been obscuring an important aspect of the story.

Adam and Eve were naked, yes, but they were also unashamed. Hutton’s depictions communicate that in such a way that I can’t help but realize that, if anyone is uncomfortable with this, it is me—not Adam and Eve (at least, not at first), and certainly not my daughter, who loved that book from the minute we sat down to it.

Now, full nudity is not all that Adam and Eve has to offer. Warwick’s images of Creation are striking—some of the best I’ve come across—and his imagined Garden of Eden is a place that I would very much like to explore. Through clean lines and watercolors, the way he places light in each picture is not only striking, but expressive. (Watch Adam and Eve move from the central places of light to the outskirts, in the shadows, and you’ll see what I mean.)

There is one more point that I must put out there: Hutton depicts God as more than a mere beam of light or misty cloud. He does it with that same delicacy, as no more than a cleanly outlined figure, but some folks may not appreciate that. I, for one, found it delightful to see Adam and God walking through the garden as companions, and devastating to see Adam and Eve standing, chastened, before him after the Fall.

So, would I recommend this book to every family? No. You know your children; you know where your line of comfort is drawn. But I would encourage you to give it a chance. Read it a few times, and see if you, like me, find yourself struck down with a longing for all that we lost in the Fall.

Adam and Eve
Warwick Hutton (1987)

Tag: Preschool (page 30 of 30)

The Chronicles of Narnia

One Last Note

Winnie-the-Pooh

The Jesus Storybook Bible

Adam and Eve

Welcome

Browse

Policies

Blogroll