The 100 Dresses: Get Over It and Study, Maddie

THE HUNDRED DRESSES

Hidden Message: It's ok to bully kids, as long as you bottle up your guilt forever and ever, and as long as you remain passive about the whole thing. 

Pleasure rating: 3/5 stars mainly because of the beautiful ilustrations

Critical rating: 1/5 stars

Would I buy it for a child I know?: No. I would not. 

My Message to Maddie: Get Over It and Study Harder

The foreword for The Hundred Dresses reveals that the author, Eleanor Estes, harbored guilt into her adulthood about accepting the bullying of a girl in her hometown. The novel, which centers around Maddie's guilt over not standing up for a bullied child, can therefore be read as Estes’ attempt “to set things right” (A Letter to Readers) decades after her complicity. Estes' characterization of the guilt-ridden Maddie, combined with illustrator Slobodkin's drawings of girls in submissive roles, reveals the implied reader of the text: a compassionate,  guilt-ridden girl who neglects her own well-being for societal approval, just as Maddie does. But she does love fashion, so it's ok. (Barf.)

From the outset, an omnisceint voice narrates that Peggy and Maddie are girls who “sat in the front row with the children who got good marks and didn’t track a whole lot of mud” (Estes 11).  Ok, so naturally, the child reading this will align herself with these two girls, both of whom  end up bullying an autistic immigrant girl named Wanda. (I read Wanda as high-functioning autistic. Thoughts?)

Now, granted, these were different times. Estes published her work in 1906, when bullying and autism weren't even words, I don't think. At least they were not buzz words like they are now. But times change for a reason, so I feel that the readership of this beloved classic should dwindle.

Girls gather around Wanda in mock interest of her "100 dresses", which they know are imaginary. 

When Estes switches from an omniscient to a third person limited point of view, Maddie, the bully who is more passive and less of a leader, suddenly “remembers” and “is bothered by” Wanda’s bullying. Because Maddie’s insights and flashbacks are the only ones that Estes makes available, the reader latches onto Maddie. 

An assertive reader would become frustrated by the inclusion of statements like “eight times eight…let’s see….nothing [Maddie] could do about making fun of Wanda.” 

I mean, excuse me? Um, you could stand up to the ringleader of the bullies, Maddie. Get some pride, kiddo. Also, you could focus on your multiplication tables. 8 x 8 = 64. Come on. 

 Since the reader is supposed to allign herself with Maddie, I see this reluctance to do schoolwork and other comments about the child's internal dialog as very problematic. Maddie’s lack of willpower is bearable to the meek, approval-seeking child reader implied by the text, who could maybe understand why Maddie "tore the [anti-bullying] note she had started into bits.” It's ok to be approval-seeking to some degree, but not if the approval is a of a group of girls who bullied someone relentlessly for her accent and mental/social differences. 

Wanda, the victim of bullying.

Slobodkin’s illustrations of Maddie echo the construction of the reader as not only submissive, but also guilt-ridden to the point of self-neglect. Many of the pictures also characterize Maddie as so consumed with guilt that she cannot pay attention to her studies:

 On the other hand, Slobodkin depicts Peggy, the ringleader bully, as studying hard while Maddie looks around the room with a concerned expression. So, bullies (the villains in this story) are associated with female studiousness and assertiveness. Hmm. I don't like that. At all. 

All of that said, I really did love this book as a kid. Again, I am a little confused as to why. I was a pretty assertive, and a pretty studious child. So I think it is a testament to Estes' writing ability that I sided with Wanda and Maddie and not Peggy. That said, for me, reading this book with a child would  involve a critical discussion about why Maddie sucks. Sorry Estes. Or maybe that's what she wanted, after all.

Peggy, the ringleader bully, depicted as assertive and bold, while Maddie cowers on the far right.

Works Cited

Chambers, Aidan. “The Reader in the Book in Booktalk; Occasional Writing on Literature and

            Children. Children’s Literature.1990. 91-113. Print.

Estes, Eleanor. The Hundred Dresses. New York: Harcourt, Inc. 1944. Print.

Estes, Helen. “A Letter to Readers.” The Hundred Dresses. New York: Harcourt, Inc. 1972.

            Print.

Fish, Stanley. “Interpretive Communities.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. 2nd ed. Ed. Rivkin,

            Julie and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 1998. 418-429. Print. 

My Side of the Mountain and Sequels...

MY SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN

Hidden Message: Be free and live in the wild! (Only for a little while though, and only if you're a boy.)

Pleasure rating: 5/5 stars!

Critical rating: 4/5 stars, despite the fact that the only female character is a voiceless, submissive bird. 

Would I buy it for a child I know: Yes! This book is perfect for a reader who loves adventure and the outdoors.

Sam Gribley, the Greatest Kidlit Character Ever

             Ok, so moment of personal nostalgia kidlit here: My Side of the Mountain was my favorite book as a kid. I wanted to be Sam Gribley. I mean, he ran away to the woods and survived in a tree hole using resourcefulness and trickery. He was like the Merlin of modern America. It was amazing. 

              When I reread the book last year as an adult for a graduate class, I wrote the analysis below. It reads kind of like a review, so I thought I'd share it. I also wrote another paper examining the novel through a feminist lens, and found (alas!) that unfortunately, this beloved tale is a product of the patriarchy. Big time. The only female character save Sam's docile mother is a tamed falcon named Frightful who clings to Sam to survive and provides him with food, without talking. (Interestingly, male animals are given a voice.) Too bad when you think about the subliminal message it sent to young readers including myself, but typical for its 1959 release. In any case I still love the book! 
            What makes George even cooler is that she recently wrote and released Frightful's Mountain, a novel about the falcon's survival story after Sam's departure, told through the she-bird's voice. George then wrote two other novels featuring the falcon - Frightful's Daughter and Frightful's Daughter Meets the Baron Weasel. I can't help but wonder if all of this sequel work is a response to criticism of the male-dominated original. Even if it wasn't, I'm dying to read them. When I do, I will post about it! 

Review and Synopsis

Sam Gribley, the tough-yet-caring protagonist of Jean Craighead George’s My Side of the Mountain, epitomizes the type of outdoorsy, rugged boy who earns the respect of his peers. Sam is a cool loner, something I have aspired to be, but never quite pulled off.    Unlike the majority of children, Sam is brave enough to actually go through with running away from his home to escape his feeling of disconnect. School ends in June and off he goes, determined to live off the land in the Catskill Mountains that his grandfather once owned.

After demonstrating some pretty awesome survival skills, Sam finds that same feeling of disconnect waiting for him in the wilderness. The close proximity to nature brings him closer to the pulse of life, hence bringing him closer to the idea of death. This reality forces a frightful Sam to push himself to survive, and in the end, it nudges the young protagonist to surrender to society, as even the loners among us must. (Well, except JD Salinger, but anyway...)

Sam runs away to feel immortal and free, and for awhile, he does feel this way; but paradoxically, his oneness with the natural world forces the runaway to acknowledge that his own life is fleeting. Like anyone who tries to run away from their life, Sam realizes he needs other human beings to find him, comfort him, and distract him from the reality that death comes to all living creatures, however beautiful.

Just as winter turns into spring, Sam becomes overwhelmed with an intense, unnamable feeling and writes in his journal: “You really want to be found.” 

Happily, the boy’s family comes to him and decides to live there, on Sam’s grandfather’s land with Sam. Now this brave boy can enter adulthood under the cozy protection of a family. He can forget about death for a while. And maybe that, at its core, is what family...and great books...allow us to do. Morbid? Maybe, but I think Sam Gribley (and JD Salinger, for that matter) would have agreed. 

Works Cited

George, Jean Craighead. My Side of the Mountain. New York: Puffin Books. 1991. Print.

Forster, E.M. Aspects of the Novel. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc. 1955. Print. 

Absolutely True Dairy of a Part-Time Indian

The Poetic, and Decidedly Adult, Ending of the YA Novel ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN by Sherman Alexie

Hidden Messages: You can choose your own path if you are willing to take risks; poverty is a vicious cycle; life is beautiful and fleeting. 

Pleasure rating: 5/5 stars! I could not put this book down. 

Critical rating: 5/5 stars. Alexie gets his reader to question stereotypes, and he empowers young adults to choose the future they want for themselves.  

Would I buy this book for a child I know: Yes, and in fact, I got my department chair to buy it for 60 teenagers I know. Most of them loved the book! (I'm an English teacher, in case that wasn't clear from my book obsession.)

*spoiler alert!

In his novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, Sherman Alexie closes on the Spokane Indian Reservation’s basketball court, with a friendly game between Junior, the novel's protagonist, and his friend Rowdy. This reunion should provide a happy ending, a physical and emotional homecoming that the typical YA home-away-home structure usually allows for, but instead I was left with a sense of eternal wonder about the infinite possibilities that remain before Junior, and, well, all of us. I really dug this, but I am not sure if KIDS would be comforted by it, or even understand it. 

The mysterious air begins when Junior innocently asks if he and Rowdy will still know each other as old men. Rowdy’s answer, “Who knows anything?” leaves me in awe of the tiny, tiny fracture of life we humans occupy in our short span here on Earth. 

The lyrical narration that follows sustains this air of enigmatic uncertainty. The narrator seems to leap off the page at the very end, age by fifty years, and acknowledge that his diary has a deeper meaning:

We played until dark. We played until the streetlights lit up the court. We played until the bats swooped down at our heads. We played until the moon was huge and golden and perfect in the night sky.  

(Just as an aside, what poetry! It is clear here that this guy was a poet first. I had my students analyze just this slice of the novel along with some surrounding sentences, and man, there is enough here to write a whole essay on the human experience. Talk about effective word choice!)

The point of view is now that of an older, wiser person, retelling events from the distant, even eternal, past. Although Junior ends up at home on the reservation with his friend at the end, the aperture created by the phrase “who knows anything” leaves an open-ended, and, dare I say, very adult interpretation about what the future will bring.

That said, I love this novel, and so do my students! It's a great way to introduce the postcolonial and feminist lenses to young kids. Alexie definitely brings up stereotypes only to force us to question them. It's a fantastic book.