So the (1992) little golden book version of the Cornish folk tale, Jack and the Beanstalk, is rife with what I would consider inaccuracies. The giant doesn’t say his normal rhyme and doesn’t even include anything about making bread from bones. That’s the rhyme that everyone knows from that story. Fee, Fi, Fo Fum I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he live or be he dead I’ll grind your bones to make my bread. Who wants to read the story with this dumbed down giant. Also the moral ambiguity is ripped out of the story on the last page when it turns out that the giant had originally stolen the harp and the goose from Jack’s father.
Yet Little Golden Books used to be far more interesting before they tried to protect children from fears of giants in the clouds baking bone bread. If you ever see The Taxi That Hurried be sure to read it. The taxi driver smokes, honks his horn, and acts generally abrasive to the world around him yet he is hailed as a hero for getting the mother and son in his taxi to the train on time. Because nicotine enhanced road rage gets the job done.
Anyway, Jack and the Beanstalk in its original form teaches children important lessons about the risks involved while meddling with magic, giants, and beans. Dumbing it down hurts all of us.
In case you didn’t notice the difference in delivery, this post has been guest written by a certain young man that recently returned to our town, and has been reading books to small children.
Raincharm's Weblog 
December 17, 2008 at 5:48 am |
I liked the Poky Little Puppy and so did my kids, or Liz at least.
December 17, 2008 at 6:37 am |
Maybe golden books thought the original story was too political. I mean giant equals oppressive feudal overloards. He even had a castle for gosh sakes! Maybe, golden books is part of the ruling elite or maybe just their mouth piece.
Marquis
December 17, 2008 at 6:41 am |
“Dr. Goat”, for his wonderful bedside manner and up-to-date (?) medical practices. There was another one about delivering the mail where the traffic had to stop b/c the mail truck was coming through (!) and they hung the mail sack on a hook and the train snagged it automatically. I don’t remember the name of that one. A look at a different time, even when it was read to me as a child.
–Pooh
December 17, 2008 at 8:06 am |
Carl thinks we have the mail one somewhere here. The one here is called, “Seven Little Postmen” by Margaret Wise Brown (same as Goodnight Moon). A boy writes a letter to his Grandmother, and it goes through 7 different postmen, traffic stops, etc….
And we have many more around here, some really dated, some not so, and …. we actually have a copy of Dr. Goat, from one of our
December 17, 2008 at 5:48 pm |
In case anyone noticed, the last reply was cut short by the arrival of my carpool.
December 18, 2008 at 8:26 am |
Didn’t actually notice the difference in delivery but am not noticing much of anything in these last few hectic days before holidays hit me over the head.
Totally agree about the dumbing down. Have y’all ever gotten into any of Roald Dahl’s childrens books?