Customer Reviews

Michael Rosen's Sad Book

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1 star:		(2)

 

 

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.

"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.

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

Picture books that help children deal with death tend, by and large, to be about animals. There's, "Dog Heaven" and "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney", and other books along these lines. "Charlotte's Web" even comes to mind. But try coming up with a children's book that'll help kids deal with the death of another child and the well begins to run dry. Even if you do find something, it'll tend to be along the lines of books like (I kid you not), "Sad Isn't Bad (Elf-Help Books For Kids)". Credit Michael Rosen with penning a deeply personal and moving book to help children that springs from his own personal loss. Books that deal with death almost never are so well-written that they win awards. But here is one sad book that proves the exception to the rule.

You open the book and there's the picture of a man grinning from ear to ear. The words say, "This is me being sad". And right off the bat kids begin to understand that being sad isn't just a face with tears or a downturned mouth. Reading on we see how occasionally Michael Rosen is consumed with sadness over the death of his son Eddie. We see pictures of Eddie growing up, with a final blank one where his life was at an end. Mostly, though, this book is about dealing with the loss of someone young. Michael talks about how he discusses his pain with friends or just thinks about it by himself, "Because it's mine. And no one else's". Sometimes Michael feels like doing crazy things because he's sad and sometimes depression will hit him in the middle of a sunny day out of the blue. From here, the book tells the reader how to deal with being sad. "I tell myself that being sad isn't the same as being horrible. I'm sad, not bad". He does things that make himself feel better and talks about how misery can hit anyone anytime. Then, there's a gradual lightening to the pages. Michael can think about the people he's lost, the good parts of Eddie's life, and birthdays. The final images of the book are Rosen's thoughts about lots and lots of candles lit and glowing. It ends with a two-page spread of Michael staring at a beautiful glowing flame and finding a kind of peace in its beauty.

No, it's not exactly a great read-aloud for large groups of kids. "Michael Rosen's Sad Book" instead works on a very intimate level. You feel privileged that the author chose to include you in his grief. For kids that are dealing with the death of a friend or sibling, Rosen's book works because he's feeling the same thing that the reader is. He understands how awful it is to be swamped by grief. Best of all, the book doesn't end on a slap-happy note that's out of synch with he rest of the story. There isn't some cheesy image of Eddie waving from heaven and Michael doesn't suddenly become "cured" of his depression by the book's end. Without directly discussing it, he just shows how this sadness won't necessarily go away. Just that its bite may lessen over time.

Illustrator Quentin Blake can undoubtedly pick and choose his projects at this point. As the receiver of the first British Children's Laureate (and having his very own official Quentin Blake Europe School in Berlin), this is the cream of the children's picture book crop. His illustrations have often been paired with authors like Roald Dahl or Joan Aiken to take the sting out of what would otherwise be somewhat disturbing works. Here, however, he's abandoned his customary wackiness in favor of a newfound stillness. These pictures are just watercolors and inks, but they work perfectly in tandem with this tale. Some pages are just full grey washes that swath our narrator in a multi-layered funk. The final image in this book is undoubtedly one of Blake's most powerful, reflecting the author's stillness and a receding of the grey gloom about him.

Unlike most dealin'-with-death books out there, "Michael Rosen's Sad Book" is appropriate for all kids, regardless of whether or not they know a fellow child who has died. It's good for kids to understand what death is and how it can hurt even the strongest of adults. "Sad Book" is not a one trick pony but a moving effigy to one man's son. It expands our understanding of what a picture book can do. This book is a necessary read.

This book should be in every school library and in the hands of every counselor who helps people deal with grief and/or depression. Michael Rosen has given us the words and Quentin Blake has given us the visuals that describe clinical depression as well as grief and mourning. Talking about these profound feelings can be difficult for adults. Children and teenagers are given the voice and visuals to help them understand their feelings and to know that others have experienced what they are experiencing. In times of crisis, this book has been priceless.

While I strongly disagree with the person who gave the one star rating saying that the book is "inappropriate" for children and that they don't have the "emotional maturity" to understand it, I will admit that you should only read it to children who you know very well. It does contain some heavy material. The author tells the truth about how hard it was for him to cope with the death of his teenage son and how he had to find positive coping mechanisms such as talking to a friend or doing one nice thing a day to help him be okay.

I just read it to my fourth grade students who I've been teaching for two years and they got so much out of it. They are not used to being exposed to books about the adult perspective because almost every book, tv show or movie for children is also starring children. We talked about how even though adults might try to make it seem like they have it all together, they are people too. They make mistakes and they have feelings, just like children do. My students found this topic fascinating. Also, I teach in Hunt's Point, a neighborhood in the South Bronx known far and wide for its sky-rocketing teen pregnancy rate and its booming sex industry. I have seen firsthand that just because a student isn't "emotionally mature" enough to handle sad situations does not mean that sad situations will not come and find them. So it's better to have an open dialogue about it than to read meaningless books about Barney making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. If you are a parent or a teacher and you would like to initiate this type of dialogue, Sad Book will help you do it.

Let's be clear to start: if you are looking for a "keep a stiff upper lip" sort of book that will teach children to face sadness with a positive attitude, this is not the book for you. This is not a sterile, sanitized view of sadness. The author, Michael Rosen, addresses the sadness at losing his son head-on, with no filter. He talks about how it affects him, how it makes him feel, and what he does to combat it. While there is no happy Hollywood ending, the author does present the idea that you can do things to combat sadness like trying to do one thing every day that he can be proud of or one thing every day that makes him happy (as long as it doesn't make anyone else unhappy).

And this book isn't just good for children. I gave this book to a friend who is working through a very unexpected and very painful divorce, and he found it to be very moving and poignant for his situation.

There is much to be said for addressing difficult subjects with children in a way that is truthful and honest. That's how fairy tales used to work when there was real death and pain and consequences, before a certain mouse kidnapped them and turned them into animated confections with great soundtracks and very little actual substance. Children are resilient; children can take it. So can adults.

The author knows how it feels to grieve. Adults as well as children will benefit from the author's experience with the grieving process and his attemps to move through life with a heavy heart. Feeling all alone with one's loss is so difficult. Michael Rosen lets the reader into his world and the reader is somehow comforted by this admission. The illustrations are funny and sweet and sad all at once. There is some soft light in all the darkness and Michael Rosen's book allows the glow.

I bought a copy of this book for each of my adult children as well as a copy for myself. This is a book as much for adults as for children. It does help us to understand and get through the "sad" times that happen to all of us in this life. It is a halpful book. However, that said, it does take two readings to really let the whole meaning seep in. Keep it on your shelf for the needed times.

Carla K Daw

Sacramento, CA

I work in a childcare center for kids with unique challenges. Nearly all of them have experienced homelessness, poverty, abuse, drugs, and other related challenges. One of our children recently came in as an African refuge. While death of a loved one is not something most have faced, they all experience a great deal of saddness. Many of them put on a happy face even when we all know what is happening to them.

Books like this give children something to relate to, show them they are not alone, and let them know that it is okay to feel sad. I want to thank the author of this book for publishing this.