“This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world’s books discoverable online …” said the introduction.  I scrolled to the next page, and there was the cover of an ancient textbook bound in green.  Unfortunately, the next and indeed all successive pages had been imported upside down.  Did I do that?  I closed the file and started again.  Alas, I got the same result.  It must have been scanned upside down.

Sir Phillip Sidney

My next search brought up An Apologie for Poetrie, by the right noble, vertuous, and learned Sir Phillip Sidney, Knight, published in 1595.  It was incomprehensible, but right side up after loading.  Like the earlier grammar text, it looked like a scratchy digital scan of the book’s pages, exactly as they were originally printed.  This could be a great medium for sharing fragile ancient books, but I found it a bit hard on the eyes.

Smug, I moved on to http://ebookstore.sony.com/download/ and discovered that while Sony’s reader application is free, and very easy to install, most of the available titles cost a third to half the price of a conventional book.  Just to try it out, I loaded a 10-year-old fantasy novel that was free, A Kiss of Shadows by Laurel K. Hamilton.  I panicked when I realized the cover was the first of 883 pages, until I saw the large size of the type.  It was nothing like the scratchy scans.  This format appeared to have been created specially to present books on screen.  I found it much easier on the eyes.

So yeah, a child could do it – download and read e-books.  I could do it.  If Santa could bring me one of those cute pocket edition readers.

Photo by janGlas on Flickr

Late last night I opened an email that I thought came from a publisher, clicked a bunch of links, and belatedly realized that it was a scam from a company trying to charge me thousands to self-publish my manuscripts and make them “available” to major North American book chains.  The actual selling, of course, would be up to me, and a nominal fee to pick, pack and ship my inventory from this company’s warehouse would be applied.

While fishing for a little sympathy online, I found the web site of Harold Underdown, a veteran of the US publishing industry, who offers lots of sensible (and free) advice on being published at http://www.underdown.org.  In Mr. Underdown’s experience, self-publishing is most useful for a very limited, and typically very personal, audience.  One that an author knows well.  And he’s very clear that this route is especially tough for children’s authors, the bulk of whose works are sold to the education system and public libraries – a market practically inaccessible to the self-published.

So, badly as I want to see my own works in print, I’m not going to be buying myself any press time this Christmas.

So I’m still deliberating over the latest proposal to start up a support group. I both like, and respect the talents of, the person who issued the invitation. That’s a good start.  Eight other aspiring writers have also been asked, so at least four of us ought to be able to convene on any given day. All are from different backgrounds, at different ages and stages of life, and seem to have differing long-term objectives. This wide range in perspectives actually intrigues me. But I hesitate, because our prospective members are scattered all over the GTA, and the good weather can’t last forever.

Scene from the new Warner Brothers movie, Where the Wild Things Are

While my 10-year-old nephew and 8-year-old niece were pleased to go to a movie with me, their faces fell when I mentioned Where the Wild Things Are.  Since my brother confirmed neither one had seen the film, I suddenly wondered if this children’s feature had a “Best Before” age?

To their credit, my guests behaved beautifully.  Popcorn and slushies probably helped.  And they didn’t meet anyone they knew at the theatre.  Our 7:45 pm screening was packed with parents escorting babies or toddlers, and children right up to pre-teens.  Nobody screamed in fright, though a group howl scene set off some of the audience, and the ensuing rumpus lasted ages.

Afterwards, my young viewers were refreshingly candid.

Q-Did you ever read the book Where the Wild Things Are?

A-Nephew:  No.

A-Niece:  Yeah, at school, in JK.  [mimicking]  “I’ll eat you up!”

Q-Did you like the book?

A-Niece:  Yeah.  But it’s mostly pictures.  It’s for really little kids.

Q-And did you like the movie?

A-Nephew:  No.

A-Niece:  Yes.  It was way better with Max running away.  And there’s no building a fort in the book, you know?

A-Nephew:  It was okay.

Q-Was it scary?

A-Unison:  No.

A-Niece:  Maybe a bit, when you don’t know if the Things are going to eat Max.  Not after he is their King.

Q-What was the best part for you?

A-Niece:  I loved the fort.  I was almost bawling when everything was wrecked and Max went home.

A-Nephew:  That fort was kinda cool.  And the dirt fight was wicked, when the monster’s arm comes off.

Q-Would you tell your friends to go see it?

A-Nephew:  Nope.

A-Niece:  For sure.

A-Nephew:  Girls …

Q-Not even to see the dirt fight?

A-Nephew:  Duh.  We would rather have real dirt fights.  But it would make a sick video game.

Q-Seriously, a dirt fight?

A-Nephew: Yeah.  Did you see the way the muppets bounce when they get hit?  That rocks.

There you have it.  Knowing Maurice Sendak was one of its producers, I expected a lot from the movie Where the Wild Things Are.  And I was charmed, not disappointed.  However, there are lessons here for adults who hold the cinematic purse strings.  1) Kids are a tough crowd – born critics, and 2) They outgrow charm faster than we want to believe possible.  For my part, I would see this film again in a heartbeat, with anybody aged 6 or younger.

Peter Jailall reads from his newly published book of children’s poems during the book launch. Photo by Claudio Cugliari, appeared in the Mississauga News, at www.Mississauga.com.

Gotta love it when a friend publishes a new book – especially one as delightful as Mother Earth: poems for her children by Peter Jailall.  The Mississauga poet and his publisher, In Our Words, launched the book officially on Sunday, October 25.   Although it represents Peter’s first foray into Kid Lit, I do hope it will not be his last.  I expect I am joined in that wish by an army of Peter’s family and friends, plus distinguished launch attendees such as: Hon. Jean Augustine, former MPP for Etobicoke Lakeshore, now Ontario’s Fairness Commissioner; Luz del Rosario, Trustee for Mississauga Wards, 6 and 11 of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board; and members of the press.  To get a copy and experience Peter’s talents yourself, visit www.inourwords.ca.

Children don’t seem to mind when a story leads them to dark places, just as long as it eventually leads them back out.  In its time, this book raised a rumpus while adults arrived at the same understanding.

In 1989 Sendak himself reminisced for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch “Wild Things ran into a lot of trouble when it was published.  It was considered ugly. It was considered far-fetched. It was considered too frightening to children.”  Critics pounced on the rudeness of the main character, Max, to his mother.  They also condemned her yelling back at him and sending him to bed without supper.

Even that supper aroused controversy before the book’s release, during the three years it took to complete the pictures and ten sentences of text.  Sendak recalls that he and the publishers argued over the last word, “hot”, which they equated with “burn”, and feared would suggest Max could be injured by his own supper.

As I child, I thought the book fascinating – creepy, but fascinating.  I read it in a corner every time I visited the library, long after my poor mother tired of checking it out for me.  I loved that Max could tame the wild things by staring them down, which always suggested to me that I could do impossible things too, if I felt like it.

Now, I think of Where the Wild Things Are as a model for a successful picture book.  The text and illustrations support one another beautifully.  The story draws in children with its authenticity.  It hooks adults, who after all must be intrigued enough by kids’ books to purchase and read them aloud.  And after 40 years in print, you can still walk into any book store with a children’s department and buy a copy.