In celebration, I have decided to dedicate today's review to the beautiful experience that is discovering books in childhood. Choosing which book to review was probably the most difficult part of the process – I was the kid with the huge glasses toting four books around with me at once, just in case I finished three and wanted to start another (I am, of course, still that kid. But I'm a bit taller now, and I have a boyfriend to carry my books for me). I loved anything by Roald Dahl, Mrs. Pigglewiggle's stories, Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. But there was one book that I read through over and over again. And that, my friends, was The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles. The book is written by Julie Andrews, who has me convinced that Mary Poppins was an official biography.
The plot line is one that we've seen a million times throughout childrens' literature and media. We troublesome humans, with our endless noise, pollution, and fondness for proving things with science and technology, have driven some of the world's most magical creatures into hiding. An odd sort of hiding – into a 'parallel universe' that is a mix between Wonderland, Narnia, and the Wonka Chocolate Factory. The sky is red, the golden river sings when you skip a stone, and the flowers smell of freshly baked bread. The world is described as “a place for living things,” and the ideas of peace and harmony reign supreme. Whangdoodleland is inhabited by creatures like Tree Squeaks, Sidewinders, the High-Behind Splintercat (exactly as it sounds), and the ever-loyal Whiffle Bird. And the creature in charge this world, who keeps order and rules as King, is the Whangdoodle – not just any Whangdoodle, but the last Whangdoodle of all. He lives, lonely and slightly miserable, in his palace looking over Whangdoodleland. He and his kingdom do all that they can to avoid contact with mankind.
That is, until our journey begins. Lindy, Ben, and Tom Potter, the siblings at the heart of the story, are able to travel to Whangdoodleland (their only vehicle for the journey being their imaginations) with the help of Professor Savant. Professor Savant is a Nobel Prize winning scientist (the book has an unusual center around science and technology that I never really noticed as a kid) who also happens to have an imagination keen enough to get him to Whangdoodleland. However, he has never been able to make it to the palace. And so he enlists the Potter children to help him travel, to meet the Whangdoodle, and to carry out his lifelong plans. In hopes that you will all kick-start your imaginations and pick up the book, I will leave you is suspense as to what those goals entail.
There are clearly some odd bits to this story. First of all, the children meet the Professor one rainy afternoon at the zoo, and soon become alarmingly attached and involved with the stranger. They spend every afternoon, and, eventually, a period of a few days alone in the man's giant mansion, and their parents never seem very concerned. The Professor explains the rules of traveling to Whangdoodleland to them as follows: “You would have to do exactly as I say. More importantly, you would never be able to mention this to another living soul.” I can't help but picture this as part of a confession from a child molester featured on Law and Order: Special Victims Unit.
Ignoring the blaring signs pointing to pedophilia, the book is a bubbling, delicious trip through a magical world. Each page uncovers more unique creatures and situations for the group to encounter. And although the reader can take many from its pages, Andrews' mission is not just to teach a lesson – it is to get the reader to truly use their imagination. Each of the aforementioned creatures and situations is described colorfully but vaguely, leaving the reader to create a delightful mental picture all their own. The colors are labelled with images easily recognized by younger minds (“shell pink flowers” and “pearl-white and crimson orchids”), and the fantastical creatures are described with base points of animals children might recognize, and then tweaked to become something much more unique. For example, the Whangdoodle is described as “looking rather like a moose, with short legs and fantastic horns.” But then we are told that he changes colors with his moods, and grows a different pair of bedroom slippers on his feet every year, shortly after shedding the last pair. Now each reader has a different picture in their mind – surely your mental Whangdoodle isn't as marvelous as mine – and we are all actively using our imaginations and giving the book our full attention, television and video games be damned. This is what wonderful childrens' writing is capable of. And to put the icing on the cake, Andrews continues to reveal enchanting details and personality traits of the Whangdoodle as the book continues. If you're curious, he is a very shy fellow, and has an extreme sweet tooth – a literal tooth that is just darling, marked in his mouth with a daisy.
The writing itself in Whangdoodles isn't exactly award-winning. The dialogue is decidedly British, which is to be expected as Julie Andrews is perhaps one of the most eloquent British women on the planet. There is a huge number of adjectives and the description can sometimes be overwhelming, but it can be argued that this is necessary when the author is trying to create an entirely new world for the reader. As an “adult” (I use the term loosely) re-reading the book, the wording is hyperbolic and sometimes seems to chase itself around in circles. But despite 15 or so years going by since I first read it through, the story has lost none of its magic for me. I am still as drawn in as I ever was, biting my nails and on the edge of my seat as Lindy tries to escape the seductive clutches of the High-Behind Splintercat, and laughing out loud as he accidentally jumps over her and lands in a field of catnip. “His head popped up with one of the blossoms clamped idiotically between his teeth. There was an intoxicated, happy grin on his face and he began to leap about as if dizzy and delirious. 'Ssssstop. Ssssstop it, I like it!' He rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air.”
Much of the writing for children and young adults will spend pages after pages agonizing over one redundant lesson. Clean your room, for 64 pages. Listen to your parents, for 113 pages. I think that this is because writers and editors don't believe that children are smart enough to absorb more than one main thought from a single book. As a student in my 5th year of school for education and a twenty-something with plenty of hands-on babysitting and teaching experience, I adamantly disagree. Children are far smarter than the higher-ups give them credit for. They, especially the voracious readers that would really get the most out of books like Whangdoodles, have an incredible capacity for learning through reading and imagination. Andrews made the decision to trust that her readers would take the time to consider the topics discussed, the situations faced, and the mistakes made by the Potters and the Professor. Because of this approach, from less than 300 pages of large-print text a child can learn about the importance of imagination, obeying elders and parents, loyalty, science, technology, and the proper limitations to both, respect for wildlife and the planet, manners, self esteem, and the science behind cloning (!), just to name a few.
There is another reason that I am in awe of Julie Andrews. In the over 30 years since The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles has been a children's favorite, there have been multiple offers to release an illustrated version of the story, a line of dolls and toys, even movie bids. And despite the opportuinty for franchising and royalties, Andrews refuses. In the forward found on the 30th anniversary edition of the book, she says, “The tale is about using one's imagination (and discovering what is under one's very nose), and I hoped that readers would discover the Whangdoodle for themselves – just as I had – so I decided not to. I am so glad I made that choice...” In a time where technology has taken the place of the babysitter, this loyalty to imagination, wonder, and even the importance of thought is enough to make me want to buy 14 copies of the book just to show my support. Julie Andrews gets quite a bit of the credit (or blame, depending on how you look at it) for my rampant imagination, and all of the wonderful effects it has had my life.
I suggest that you all take a few hours out of your day-to-day lives to travel back to your childhoods. Pick up Whangdoodles, or any book that you loved as a kid – one that really had you itching to explore, question, and achieve – dust off your imagination, and take the journey all over again.
“My point is this: I don't want you ever again to take something at face value – to take things for granted. Let you curiosity run away with you. Know that beyond every ordinary explanation there is a deeper and more exciting discovery to be made.”
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