DISCOVERY: Aldous Huxley’s children’s book

One of the pleasures of having a young kid is rediscovering many of the books I’ve loved but forgotten. Harold and the Purple Crayon comes to mind, as do A House is a House for Me, Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, Katie and the Big Snow, and too many others to list.

Then there are the books that weren’t around when I was a kid. I love anything by Mo Willems, all the Ladybug Girl books by David Soman/Jacky Davis, and especially a gorgeous, simple story called All The World by Liz Garton Scanlon/Marla Frazee.

But the best is when I stumble across old books that are new to me. My daughter, Sylvie, was recently given an utterly magical picture book – called The Crows of Pear Blossom - by none other than Aldous Huxley.

 The book (beautifully illustrated by Sophie Blackall) tells the story of Mr. and Mrs. Crow, who live in a cottonwood tree in Pearblossom. For years, Mrs. Crow has been trying to have babies, and for years, her eggs keep disappearing. One day she catches Mr. Snake (who lives at the bottom of their tree) eating her 297^th egg of the year.

Huxley writes:

When Mr. Crow came home that evening from Palmdale, where he worked as Assistant Manager in the drugstore, he found his wife looking very pale and haggard, pacing up and down the branch outside their nest.

‘What’s the matter, Amelia?’ he said. ‘You look quite ill. You haven’t been overeating again, have you?’

‘How can you be so coarse and unfeeling?’ Mrs. Crow burst out. ‘Here I am, working myself to the bone for you; when I’m not working, laying a fresh egg every single day – except Sundays, of course, and public holidays… and not a single chick hatched out. And all you can do is ask if I’ve been overeating.’

Pure brilliance – in my opinion. Here’s marriage, infertility, suburbia, and female malaise, all rolled into a little kid-friendly package!

I won’t ruin the ending: let’s just say it involves the somewhat cowardly Mr. Crow and his wise friend Mr. Owl literally baking up a surprise that will keep Mr. Snake from ever stealing another egg.

But I will say that there’s something about adult authors like Huxley writing children’s books that makes for complicated, surprising, and yes, moving, stories that wind up sticking with kids and growmups alike.

This morning, I was frying a few eggs and Sylvie said, “We eat these eggs, but sometimes if we don’t eat them eggs grow into birds, or people!”

I prepared myself. She’s going to tell me she wants to be vegan, I thought.

“That’s right, Sylvie,” I said. I explained how these eggs weren’t fertilized, and wouldn’t have become birds anyway. Then I said, “Where did you learn about this?”

“From Mr. and Mrs. Crow!” she said, smiling.

Of course.

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Coming soon, a report on Virginia Woolf’s children’s book, Nurse Lugton’s Curtain. In the meantime, what other famous literary authors wrote books for kids? Please share your favorites!