Embarrassing Children's Christmas Books, Volume 1

My apologies for an unplanned blog hiatus, but graduate school happens. I will resume my critical review of Missing Since Monday before long, but first I would like to take a moment for the annual Reading of the Embarrassing Christmas Children's Books. 

Richard Scarry's Best Christmas Book Ever by Richard Scarry, Sterling, 1981.

I don't know where to begin. Literally. This book is approximately 6030453408 pages long. Stories, colorful illustrations, sheet music for two Christmas carols, a game board and the instructions to make a pomander apple are all crammed into this slim volume. And all of them are of poor quality. The game board is printed across two pages at the center of the book such that any game pieces you use will slide off. The pomander instructions refer to the pomander as "the best Christmas gift for grandma or anyone," which betrays an optimism bordering on mania. The stories are ridiculously trite and feature the usual stilted, oversimplistic Richard Scarry style of writing. The text somehow manages to be long enough that it might have been written by Victor Hugo, with a sparsity of wording reminiscent of Hemmingway, and the artistic ability of E. L. James. And speaking of E. L. James, look at the above illustration. Just look at it. What is that rabbit holding? Why does it have a perineal raphe? Why in the name of all that's holy and decent did Scarry feel the need to write "nuts" next to the rabbits vacant, smiling face as he fondles the pink package? Chilling. Two candy canes, out of a possible five.

Christmas on Exeter Street by Diana Hendry, illustrated by John Lawrence, Alfred A. Knoph, 1989

This story is a heartwarming parable about the virtue of hospitality as seen through the lens of an acid trip. I quite like it. Unlike the Richard Scarry book, it tells one story and tells it succinctly; the story begins after the title page and when it finishes, the book also ends. And it is a genuinely fun story, the story of what happens when one hospitable housewife opens her home to everyone in the neighborhood on a snowy Christmas eve. Guests who arrive early get actual beds to sleep in, and the rest are not so lucky. Of particular artistic merit is the scene wherein five old maid aunts from Abingdon arrive with their dogs, and the protagonist makes beds for them on the pantry shelves without first removing the fine China. This is the true meaning of Christmas, after all: giving of yourself and not counting the cost, or the local fire code laws. The book also features detailed illustrations including a particularly lurid drawing of Santa counting his toes on a snow-covered doorstep. Four candy canes. 

Merry Christmas Space Case by James Marshall, Dial Books for Young Readers, 1986.

Merry Christmas Space Case is the sequel to Space Case, which was featured on Reading Rainbow nearly thirty years ago. It tells the story of "The Thing's" return to visit Buddy and experience an Earth Christmas, and it does so adequately with the expected visual gags, grotesquely deformed bullies, mistaken identity dilemas and blind or stupid adult characters to move the tale along. Feminist mommies will particularly enjoy the liberated Granny character, who is a scientist of some sort and always wears a lab coat. Merry Christmas Space Case features no innovation, but it repeats its comedic tropes with such confidence that one is drawn to laugh in spite of oneself. While one must admit that this book is lacking in some of the charm and originality of the older Space Case, this is nonetheless a worthwhile addition to your Christmas science fiction library. Three and a half candy canes. 

A Christmas Wish for Corduroy by B. G. Hennessy, Viking, 2014

Ah, Corduroy. That lovable and naive little bear who always manages to get back to wherever it is he's wandered off from, with the help of obliging New Yorkers. Ah, Cordury. What else can be said about Corduroy? Nothing. And that is the main problem with A Christmas Wish for Corduroy. It is attempting to capitalize on the two most hackneyed and trite literary topics in the history of children's fiction: Christmas and bloody Corduroy. He is a one-trick bear with a tired shtick: he misunderstands things and wanders off. This was relatively charming in the original two books penned by the artist Don Freeman. Perhaps it should have been everyone's first clue when this book was labeled as "Based on the characters created by Don Freeman" rather than with the actual new author's name. Hennessy understandably wanted little to do with this mess.  A Christmas Wish for Corduroy is a rather dark and nihilistic prequel to the original text, and it blatantly steals two illustrations and a bit of dialogue from the same. It never once uses Corduroy's signature "This must be a [noun], I think I've always wanted a [noun]" monologue or any of its variations, and for that we can be grateful. But it has no originality, no insight, no building on or illuminating the other texts; it has absolutely no reason to exist except as a shallow attempt to score some money in the name of a competent dead author. Shame. One and a half candy canes.