Michael Rosen's Sad Book [Hardcover]

Michael Rosen (Author)

Book Description

Publication Date: November 1, 2004

We all have sad stuff - maybe you have some right now, as you read this. What makes Michael Rosen most sad is thinking about his son, Eddie, who died. In this book he writes about his sadness, how it affects him and some of the things he does to try to cope with it. Whether or not you have known what it's like to feel really deeply sad, its truth will surely touch you.

Editorial Reviews

From School Library Journal

Starred Review. Grade 3 Up–This is a personal and moving account of the author's experiences with grief over the loss of his son and mother and various ways of dealing with the melancholy that attends it. "Sometimes sad is very big. It's everywhere. All over me." The gentle text assures readers that despair, anger, and hopelessness are common feelings when dealing with death, but that memories of happier times can elicit a spark of joy and optimism for the future. "And then I remember things. My mum in the rain. Eddie walking along the street, laughing and laughing and laughing." Blake's evocative watercolor-and-ink illustrations use shades of gray for the pictures where sadness has taken hold but brighten with color at the memory of happy times. This story is practical and universal and will be of comfort to those who are working through their bereavement. A brilliant and distinguished collaboration.–Maryann H. Owen, Racine Public Library, WI --This text refers to an alternate Hardcover edition.

From Booklist

*Starred Review* When we first received this book, I wanted to review it quickly and get it out of the way. It was so sad. Instead, I pushed it aside and kept pushing it aside--for the same reason. Finally, the book was getting late; it was time to deal with it. As I sat down to write, I realized that my reaction to Rosen and Blake's provocative collaboration was based on the same impulses people have who are faced with real grief: deal with it quickly and say it's done, or sweep it under the rug for a time and then, finally, look at it squarely and begin the struggle.

The book begins with a head shot of Rosen: "This is me being sad." But the picture shows him smiling, at least until you look more closely. Then you realize that the twist of his lips and teeth forms a grimace. The text goes on to say he's pretending because he thinks people won't like him if he's sad. In a clipped, first-person text, Rosen relates that he's sad because his son, Eddie, has died. Illustrated snaps of Eddie in Blake's signature scrawl show him as a baby, a boy, a teen. The last frame is blank. The extent of Rosen's rage is staggering, but it's quiet, not loud (wouldn't want to scare the children, eh?). It pierces with its honesty: "Sometimes because I'm sad I do bad things. I can't tell you what they are. They're too bad. And it's not fair to the cat." (And, yes, kids will understand that this is black humor.)

When the book is at its darkest--and Blake's black-and-gray line work wrests every bit of the agony from the understated words--there is despair. The ways in which Rosen tries to comfort himself--by rationalizing that everyone has his or her own pain or by trying to do things he is proud of--only work a little. An adult reader may wonder at this point, Is the book even for young people? Is it too self-indulgent?

To think that would be to dismiss the truth we all try to hide from: sadness is part of the human condition. Children know this as well as adults and perhaps feel it even more keenly since they haven't had as much time to develop defenses. This book tells them what they already intuit, and while you might not want to give it to a child who, at the moment is happy, you would most certainly want to give it to one who is sad. It shows children that they are not alone, and it does so brilliantly.

And Rosen is not left in total despair. As time passes, he begins to look at things more intently, and those moments push up happier memories, some even about Eddie. Remembrances of birthdays bring to mind candles: "There must be candles." This slow evolution allows Blake to lighten his pictures both in color and underlying spirit. The last spread shows Rosen sitting at a table, unshaven, focused intently on one lit candle, which one hopes is bright enough to lead him to a better place.

This book's power is in its utter honesty. No couching, no prettying up. It's as if Rosen and Blake are taking readers by the hand and saying, "C'mon, let's look at this now. Sadness, yes. Here it is." But they pull you just past the heartbreak, too. The journey from grief to a glimmer of hope is a long, often lonely one, but there's relief in knowing that it's possible. Ilene Cooper
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate Hardcover edition.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 32 pages
• Publisher: Walker Childrens Hardbacks (November 1, 2004)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0744598982
• ISBN-13: 978-0744598988
• Product Dimensions: 11.6 x 8.6 x 0.4 inches
• Shipping Weight: 15.5 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 4.4 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (17 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #10,371,100 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

Michael Rosen, an English poet, scriptwriter, broadcaster, and performer, has been writing for children since 1970. He lives in London with his wife and five children.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

33 of 33 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars The author is not kidding!, February 23, 2005

By 

Esme R. Codell "planetesme.com" (Chicago, IL USA) - See all my reviews
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This review is from: Michael Rosen's Sad Book (Boston Globe-Horn Book Honors (Awards)) (Hardcover)

When I opened this book, I figured it was just going to be one of those books along the lines of "when mommy goes to work, I'm sad until she gets home" or "I'm sad when I stub my toe," but no, this book isn't about little sad, it's about big, big grown up sad: the author's exploration of his own grief upon losing his son. When I opened the book to the last wordless page I burst out crying (both times I read it), and initially felt very strongly that this was not a book for children. But on further reflection, this may very well be a book for some children, and more than that it is a great piece of art: honest and beautiful even though it is very painful to read. Really, it is the epitome of a marriage between writer and illustrator...the words tell what the pictures can't always say, and the pictures tell what words can't always express. Anyone who is interested in the power of a book needs to have a look at this one. And thank you to this team for being so brave...I am very sorry for the author's loss, but grateful for this and other books both he and Quentin Blake have given to the world.

45 of 50 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Richie's Picks: MICHAEL ROSEN'S SAD BOOK, May 21, 2005

By 

Richie Partington "Richie's Picks" (Sebastopol, CA United States) - See all my reviews
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This review is from: Michael Rosen's Sad Book (Boston Globe-Horn Book Honors (Awards)) (Hardcover)

"When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be."
--The Beatles

Nearly ten years ago, back when I was the new Children's and YA buyer at Copperfield's, I had a business meeting with RDR Books publisher Roger Rapoport.

The most significant aspect of that meeting with Roger was his leaving me with a sample copy of the utterly delightful, Quentin Blake-illustrated, THE BEST OF MICHAEL ROSEN (Wetlands Press, 1995, ISBN: 1-57143-046-6). And the most significant aspect of THE BEST OF MICHAEL ROSEN (which is overflowing with Rosen's funny poems and tales) is a story titled, "Eddie and the Birthday."

"Eddie and the Birthday
(Eddie is my second son)


When Eddie had his second birthday
he got lots of cards,
and he had a cake and all kinds of presents
and we sang Happy Birthday,
'Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, dear Eddie...'
and all that.
He liked that very much
So he goes:
'More. Sing it again.'
So we sang it again.
'Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, dear Eddie...'
and all that.
And he goes,
'More. Sing it again.'
So we sang it again.
'Happy Birthday to you
da de da de da, dear Eddie
da de da to you...'
And he goes,
'More. Sing it again.'
It felt like we sang Happy Birthday about
Two hundred and twenty-three times.

And the candles. On the cake.
He loved them.
'Eddie, blow.'
He blew.
And the moment he blew it out
he wanted more.
'More candle.'
So we light it.
'More Eddie blow.'
Eddie blew.
'More candle.'
We light.
'More Eddie blow.'
'More candle.'
That felt like two hundred and twenty-three times as well.

And he loved the cards.
Everyone who sent him a card
seemed to think he'd like one
with pictures of big fat animals.

Elephants and hippos.
He got about ten of them.
Imagine.
Your second birthday
and everyone sends you pictures of
hippopotamuses.
Maybe they think he is a hippo.

Anyway he had a nice birthday.
Next day he gets up
comes downstairs
and he looks around
and he goes,
'More happy birfdy.'
So I go,
'That was yesterday, Eddie.'
'More happy birfdy.'
'But it isn't your birfdy--I mean birthday...'
'More happy birfdy.'


Now you don't cross Eddie.
He throws tantrums.
We call them wobblies.
'Look out, he's going to throw a wobbly!'
And the face starts going red,
the arms start going up and down,
the screaming starts winding up
he starts jumping up and down
and there he is--
throwing a wobbly.


So I thought,
'We don't want to have a wobbly over this one.'
So we started singing Happy Birthday all over again.
Two hundred and twenty-three times.
Then he says
'More candles.'
'We haven't got any,' we say
(Lies, of course, we had).
'More candles...'
So out came the candles
and yes--
'Eddie blow.'
He blew.
'More candle.'
And off we go again--
Two hundred and twenty-three times.

And then he says,
'Letters. More.'
Well, of course no one sent him any more,
so while I'm singing more happy birfdys,
my wife was stuffing all the cards
into envelopes and sticking them down.
So we hand over all his cards again
and out came all the hippopotamuses again.

So he's very pleased.
And that's how Eddie had two birthdays.
Lucky for us
he'd forgotten by the third day.

Maybe he thinks when you're two you have two birthdays
and when you're three you have three birthdays
and when you're seventy-eight you..."

Over the past decade I've sent copies of that story along with birthday cards. I've easily read it aloud two hundred and twenty-three times.

I was feeling sad a few weeks ago. Now that I've completed my three-year term on the Best Books for Young Adults committee, it feels like some of the publishers have forgotten about me. So I'm paging through various publisher catalogues that I'd picked up in Boston to see what I've been missing, and I see an unmistakable Quentin Blake illustration.

(I still think that Quentin Blake's wordless picture book CLOWN (Holt, 1996) is one of the most significant pieces of social commentary disguised as a children's book that has ever been published.)

So I look at the Quentin Blake illustration in the Candlewick catalogue, and I look at the title, MICHAEL ROSEN'S SAD BOOK, and I read the catalogue copy, and...Oh, my God. Reading the catalogue copy brought on one of those moments when you can't get your mind around what you're seeing.

"What makes Michael Rosen sad is thinking about his son, Eddie, who died suddenly at the age of eighteen."

So I was sad that afternoon, and I was already sad again this morning before the FedEx guy came up our long, rutty, rain-damaged driveway, and before I opened the package and there was the SAD BOOK.

"Though she was born a long, long time ago
Your mother should know."
--The Beatles again

But what might be making me saddest right now is Michael's saying in the book,

"Sometimes I want to talk about all this to someone. Like my mum. But she's not here anymore, either. So I can't."

which makes me really, really sad, because my mom was the person I always had to talk to about things and now it's been five long years since she's not been here for me to talk with.

And now I'm crying even harder, looking at the last spread in the book which has Michael sitting alone at a desk, staring at a photo and a burning candle.

And I hope I can kind of get it all out of my system before I try reading the book aloud to an audience which I need to do because Michael's story--which Quentin brings to life--of what it's like to deal with sadness will touch and teach readers and audiences of all ages.

11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars YES, LIFE CAN BE VERY, VERY SAD, March 9, 2005

By 

Gail Cooke (TX, USA) - See all my reviews
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This review is from: Michael Rosen's Sad Book (Boston Globe-Horn Book Honors (Awards)) (Hardcover)

This is a sad book, a very sad book. It is aptly titled. Yes, it's unlike the majority of books intended for young readers. There aren't any rhymes or happy endings. It's a story, more of a journal really about the way Michael Rosen is trying to cope with the death of his son, Eddie.

Why give a sad book to children? Because there are times when we are sad, life is sad. However, this book is also about love and how very much Rosen loved his son. It's also a book about possibilities. All the things you can do when your life seems bleak. Maybe we can't be too young to learn these lessons.

Rosen talks about trying to look happy because he thinks people won't like him if he looks sad, and he mentions trying to do one thing he can be proud of every day. Then, when he goes to bed he tries to think about that rather than the fact that Eddie is no longer with him. He doesn't sidestep the anger he feels at Eddie's death or the memories that flood his mind.

Quentin Blake has won numerous awards for his illustrations, deservedly so. He illustrates this book not just with watercolor and ink but also with empathetic awareness.

This is a very honest book that cannot fail to touch hearts, and it may perhaps teach young ones to be kind and relish every day.

- Gail Cooke