The first two books I ever read on my own were works of great literature. They were, in no particular order, “Hop On Pop” and “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.” I was around four years old. Though I’ve slowed to a rather less “devoted” pace as a reader in more recent years, as a child I read avidly and precociously, something that I attribute in part to learning to read at a relatively early age. For this, I have my parents to thank, far above and beyond any other forces. They sat down with me before bedtime every single night to read for me and eventually with me.
Exemplary as my parents’ dedication to teaching me was, there is another whole order of heroes who must be acknowledged in this happily formative period of my childhood. For my inaugural foray into the written text, the teacher I am obliged to thank is Theodor Seuss Geisel, also known as Dr. Seuss. He is among the most famed and acclaimed of a group of people whose work has immeasurable impact on young minds.
Writers and illustrators of children’s and young adult’s literature are responsible for many beloved memories from my childhood. These were the days when I would nag my teachers for book recommendations and get in trouble for reading after bedtime. They were the invisible sculptors of my earliest intellectual experiences; the puppeteers controlling the movements of characters storylines that ignited my imagination in invaluable ways.
Children’s literature is unique in that it is one of the few art forms characteristically formed with an audience of a particular age in mind. To a great extent, children get to decide what is “great” and what is not; what stays on their parents shelves, eluding yardsales year after year. They decree what should be read by future generations. As such, I count many of these books as my best-loved. I feel that any list of all-time favorite books focusing primarily on books I’ve read in adulthood would be blasphemously incomplete.
As much as I appreciate many of the grown-up books I’ve read and loved, I can’t really imagine designating “The Color Purple” and “Where the Wild Things Are” to different realms of the literary universe just because one was released by a children’s books publisher and one wasn’t. If I really wanted to get into it, I might argue that the complex use of metaphor and symbolism in both texts should make them equals in the eyes of the Pulitzer judges. (Plus, no offense to Alice Walker because I adore her, but Maurice Sendak has, at least as far as I know, proven himself the superior illustrator).
But that’s a topic for another venue, like an I.S. project someone has probably already written.
To conclude, an abridged list of my favorite children’s books, both with pictures and without:
“Where the Wild Things Are,” written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak
“Dreams,” written and illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats
“The Giver” by Lois Lowry
“The Diary of a Young Girl: Anne Frank”
“Walk Two Moons” by Sharon Creech
“Caddie Woodlawn” by Carol Ryrie Brink.
Sarah Kristeller is an A&E editor for the Voice. She can be reached for comment at SKristeller14@wooster.edu