On Goodnight Moon: A New Perspective

 When Andy and I were trying to decide how to decorate the nursery for our forthcoming bundle last summer, we were very focused on steering clear from anything too cutsie or kitschy. I figured, when we had complete control over how this room looked, we might as well decorate it the way we wanted it to look. Pretty soon, kids develop bothersome opinions and tastes and will want to cover their room in an ungodly shade of pink or in race car decals. Until then, we were going to attempt to have a touch of class in this kid’s room.

Ultimately, we decided on a Jungle Book theme – the Rudyard Kipling series of stories, not the Disney version.  I drew some simple pencil drawings of elephants and monkeys, and wrote out some verses from poems included at the start of each chapter, and tried to accessorize with things that would give it a feel of old timey, colonial India.

We were happy with how it looked, and we loved the idea that we were inspired by classic children’s literature. No Toy Story Buzz Lightyear crap for us (I was very focused on avoiding Buzz Lightyear, if you remember).

I wanted so badly to read Tess classic stories like The Jungle Book right from the start of her life. I imagined reading her Beatrix Potter, Aesop’s Fables, and Hans Christian Anderson even as an infant. OK, a lot of these stories would be more likely to give Tess nightmares than anything else, but even more modern picture books have their appeal, Dr. Seuss is a bona fide lyrical genius, and The Hungry Caterpillar is one of my favorites. I stocked her bookcase with all of them.  I thought, listening to these stories, even before she could really comprehend language, would help her develop language.  She would be writing her own poetry by 6 the way I had it planned out.

For The Love of the Red Sox.

Another important classic!

In Tess’ early days, I could read anything to her and she would lay there perfectly content in my arms. I patted myself on the back, and imagined the incredible connections that were forming in Tess’ brain as she listened to me (or Andy or my Mom) read to her.  

I thought I had a genius on my hands in these days.

She loved looking at books!

As she started to become less slug-like, she would still like to look at the pictures in her books as we read to her. Even up to 6, 7 months old she would still sit and just look at the pages.

Over the last couple of months, books have lost their appeal. Well, not completely. The words on the pages and the drawings lost their appeal. The fact that pages can be TORN is highly appealing!

Books can also be eaten!

She prefers helping Dad with his manuscript reviews, apparently.

I started focusing on stocking up on the books where all the pages are a heavy duty cardboard so the pages can't get torn out.  Once Tess figured out the pages couldn’t be torn out, she was mostly disinterested once again.

She was more interested in what was 

going on on the other side of this door 

than in reading the book on the floor with me.

Then, one night before bed, I decided to read her a copy of Goodnight Moon.

And my world changed.

I do not exaggerate when I say this baby, who had developed a highly destructive relationship with books at this point, suddenly sat quietly, stared, listened and every now and then put a little finger out to touch the red balloon or little mouse on the page.

It was as if a sedative was released as you opened the front cover.

I can’t possibly be the first person to experience this, either. Goodnight Moon was first published in 1953 and by 1990 4 million copies had been sold. In 2012 the School Library Journal crowned it as one of the Top 100 Picture Books of all time.

What is it about this book that 4 million people (as of 20 years ago) have read it to their kids?!

I read it to Tess every night before bed, because she loves it and it helps contribute to the whole bedtime routine, but I’m gonna be honest with you… 

I freaking ~hate~ this book.  

Let me just take you on a page-by-page journey through this acid trip.

Don’t worry, it shouldn't take long. A hyperactive terrier with ADD could sit still long enough to make their way through this book.

The cover is seemingly innocuous enough.

But really, written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd? Why, because writing this piece of garbage was too much you had to get someone else to draw the photos? The longest page has only 17 words on it, which just so happens to be page 1...

OK, let's assess what we have here. A room with a rabbit sleeping in the bed. We'll overlook the anthropomorphism for a minute, because a lot of great children's stories personify animals. Even The Jungle Book. I'm fine with that.

But let's then divert our attention to the rest of the room. A red carpet and bright green walls? Really? This is the color combination that you choose? Is he color blind? Even in 1953, even at Christmas this would be unacceptable. And the yellow-green stripped curtains? It hurts my eyes.

And is that a tiger-skin rug?  My first thought is, how did that tiger not make a meal of that rabbit before he got turned into a rug? Then, I thought, maybe the rabbit bought the tiger at the rug store? It's possible, but wouldn't you think rabbits would have some sense of camaraderie with tigers and understand that it sucks to be killed so someone can make a rug out of you? 

Granted, I don't blame Mr. Rabbit for wanting to do what he could to cover that red carpet.

Now back to the text, "In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of-" ... wait for it.. waaaaait for it... 

The big reveal! A cow jumping over the moon. 

Not too many problems with this here, but this page does introduce one major problem I have throughout this book.

BLACK AND WHITE?! 

Seriously? You make a book for kids with black and white images? What is this, Soviet Russia? We are rationing color pages? Don't want anyone getting too stimulated? Good lord. If any of the pages of this book should actually be devoid of color it should be the pages with the red floors and green walls.

Great, back to color for the hideous green and red combo.  And we have to stick with the red for the little toyhouse too? Excellent.

Now begins the incessant listing of random items located in this weird room.

We've got kittens and mittens, a toy house and mouse.  Between this and the bears sitting in chairs, it appears we are rhyming now. 

But what is this rhyme? Where is the iambic pentameter, Margaret? Your syllables are all over the place.

And, why is no one panicking over the mouse running amok? Are all the animals anthropomorphized here? Can we establish the hierarchy of animals? Who is a pet? Who is a pest? Or is this some kind of animal commune where they're all equal inhabitants of the green room?

A bowl of mush? Excuse me? Do you mean oatmeal? Porridge? And why are you combing your hair near the food? As if mush isn't unappetizing enough, we have hairy mush? Why are these three random items located on the nightstand together?  And why do you need a comb AND a brush? Won't one suffice?

Wait, where'd this old lady rabbit come from? Her chair was empty a minute ago. And who is she? Is she the gramma rabbit? If so, then why not call her gramma? If not, who is this random old lady and why is she there? Who exactly is she hushing? The kittens? 

Also, Lil Wayne's rhymes make more sense than this bitch. She is all over the shop.

Back to the hideous room again. 

Does that old lady realize those kittens have stolen her yarn? Pay attention, woman!

At least the moon - at whom this whole book is supposedly directed - has finally started to make an appearance in that window back there. (I'm guessing we are anthropomorphizing the moon too).

And as soon as the moon arrives, we tell him goodnight. 

Piss off, moon. You're late. 

OK I will cut Clement Hurd some slack here because I like his use of shadow from the lampshade. That's pretty nice. Margaret doesn't get off so light though. 

We've got some words that rhyme, others don't. We are saying goodnight to things we've already noticed in the room, but then the light gets a goodnight out of nowhere.

And what happened to those socks or stockings or whatever that were hanging with the mittens on that rack? We say goodnight to them on the following page, where they suddenly reappear. 

And why is that bowl of mush still sitting there? Is someone going to eat that? (Assuming it's edible). 

Also, is that kitten dead? 

That rabbit has seen some shit. Do you see how he's cowering in the fetal position? 

Really? You have this whole page and you choose to use 1 square centimeter to draw the mouse? I need a goddamn magnifying glass to see what is going on on this page.

Goodnight nobody? Really?

NOBODY?! 

You couldn't find one additional item to choose to say goodnight to here? What about the bookcase, the rocking chair, the inhumane tiger-skin rug - poor creature gives his life for your rug and doesn't even get a goodnight? Or how about the fire? I mean, we're noticing all this boring crap around the room like stockings drying but we don't draw attention to a huge roaring fire?

The truth is, I actually kind of like the end here. It's sweet and almost transcendental. The rhyme even kind of works. Granted, this whole book is supposed to be about saying goodnight to the moon and he isn't even mentioned at the climax of the whole story when we're even focused on celestial objects, but whatever, I'll let that one slide.

And there you have it, folks. The greatest picture book of all time, apparently. Wow.

On that note, I will say I hope this bizarro-world book helps Tess realize that books can be awesome so she soon goes back to enjoying reading books rather than eating them. At least there is ONE book in our collection that she enjoys, as bad as it actually is.  And it's nice to at least have some quiet time snuggling with her before bed, no matter what we are reading.