I’m a little more than a year old. I’ve never seen the legendary Sesame Street; and yet, I felt inexplicably drawn to the “Read Along with Elmo” series book I found at the bottom of a pile of books meant for me. This particular edition features the story of “Wee Willie Winkie” – again, no personal frame of reference, but the title character is a mouse: small, adorable; almost like it was engineered for someone like me to enjoy! This going to be fun!
I start with the first page. They’re already expecting a lot, as they establish two parallel narratives: the fascinating tale of Mr. Winkie’s adventures alongside the meta-narrative of reading with Elmo (thus the series title) and his commentary on the act of reading. A little bit of a developmental stretch, but so far, so good. Page two.
Things get strange here. Wee Willie’s run through town continues, but Elmo is nowhere to be found! Instead there’s this blue guy that bears a passing resemblance to Elmo (Papa says his name is Grover). What happened to Elmo, the series host with whom I’ve been reading? I don’t mind Grover. Seems like a perfectly reasonable chap. He even engages me in some rudimentary developmental stuff, asking me to count (numbers) the purple (colors) toadstools (OK, you lost me on that one; who says “toadstools” anymore?). But I would’ve at least expected a little heads up, like, “Sorry, but Elmo has another book appearance, so Elmo has asked Elmo’s good friend Grover to guest host for one page. You will like Grover!” No such luck. Not even a “by your leave.” Oh, well. Nobody’s perfect. Let’s see what’s in store on page three.
Well, well, well! Guess who has returned? And yet no mention of the absence? Just a little commentary on how much Elmo loves to read with me. If you love it that much, where were you on the previous page? Never mind; at least you’re here now. On to page four.
Who the hell is this? A turquoise Elmo with shaggy hair and a bow – I assume that means this is supposed to be a girl? Still no introduction, no “excuse Elmo,” not even a BRB text message? The head spins at the unreliability. I’m so baffled I’ve stopped paying attention to the rodent’s exploits. But there’s only one more page. It’d be a shame to make it this far and not go all the way. Onward to page five.
Again? Elmo has returned? What, am I supposed to rejoice as though the Messiah is finally here? Or do you think so little of me that you assume I won’t notice? But here’s the worst part, asking me, “What was your favorite part of the story?” Well, I could tell you, but I’m not even certain you were there when it happened, so I’d end up explaining the whole narrative arc to you. The series isn’t called “Explain a Book to Elmo.” So don’t even think I’m going to stoop to your level.
In conclusion, I found the whole experience extremely frustrating; all the more so because my expectations were so high. I suggest a whole re-work of the series using this title as their guide: “Read Alone without Elmo.” Then you would at least know what you’re getting.
The author is a literary critic, pianist, and Persian king living in Atlanta. His hobbies include bartending, wobbles on the beach, and climbing on stuff. He can be reached.
August 24, 2011 at 11:28 pm |
Such a passionate and informed critique. Thank you, sir.
August 25, 2011 at 9:06 am |
Cannot tell the Persian king how often I have been frustrated while reading books to a class of children. What was the author thinking?
Did the illustrator even read the book? Do either know anything about child development or what turns on children. I’m in this literary critic’s corner.