Questionable choices in children's literature

Because we're pretty seriously into limiting screen time for Sophie (very little television, a few movies, no Nintendo or any of those funny games I don't understand), I went to the local public library and checked out a stack of books on tape when we went on our long driving trip this summer. She got to watch a few dvds, but there's only so much Sponge Bob a mom can take. The tapes were a great alternative that we could all enjoy while watching the scenery at the same time. And I found them useful for filling in the cavernous gaps in Husband's childhood reading.

Here's what we listened to and I returned to the library the other day:

Because of Win-Dixie, Kate DiCamillo
Tuck Everlasting, Natalie Babbitt
The Hundred Dresses, Eleanor Estes
The Cricket in Times Square, George Selden
Misty of Chincoteague, Marguerite Henry

Remember those last two? They were two of my favorite books when I was a kid. Sophie loved them too, and they passed many hours on the road.

However, I have still to return this:

Did you ever read this?

It's quite a whopper: 12 disks, totally something like 40 hours of listening. Ok, maybe not quite that much, but we listened to this all the way through Nevada, and we still aren't done. We've got a weekend trip up to Mendocino coming up, and I've saved it for that.

But I have to admit, it's not quite what I thought it would be. I didn't read it as a child, but it's known to be a significant children's classic. It's about a boy and his pet deer. "Great!" I thought. "Sophie likes animals! We all like animals!" And there are a lot of animals in this book in addition to the deer. Thing is though that the humans occupying this story blast them away at a rate leaving a body count comparable to a Schwarzenegger movie. Context is important here: They live the Florida backwoods at the turn of the century and hunt (constantly) for what they eat (yum—bear!). Granted, the boy's father is quite clear that they don't kill for recreation. But when he need panther oil for his rheumatism he thinks "I'll go shoot me a panther!" When he requires grease for his boots, it's a gator he needs. And when they're not hunting, they're fishing. They take a little time out to plant a bit, but all in all, they spend most of their time killing shit.

Here's the funny part. Or really not so funny if you're me. Husband, a very sensitive guy, was disturbed by this story. All the killing upset him. I explained that it's how people lived their lives in that part of the country at that time. Realism, you know.

But now. We are going this weekend to a house party of friends up in Mendocino County. It's their weekend house, and every summer they invite everyone up to camp in their meadow, watch kids swim in the pond and coat themselves in mud, play and listen to music, and EAT. They usually have roast a pig or a lamb on a big spit, which turns all day and is a lot of fun for everyone to watch. But this year our friend informs us that someone is giving him a goat. LIVE. Recognizing that Sophie is a curious, adventurous girl, he wants to know if we would like to come up the night before when they will be BUTCHERING the goat. What I am unclear on is whether the goat will be dead when we arrive. Or will it be walking around being patted by the kids until . . . ? Husband is having the last laugh at how upset I am about this. Animals just don't appear on one's plate, he points out. They have to be killed. Just like in that really long book.


Maybe I can be off picking berries while this happens. And thank goodness there's always lots of vegetarian dishes at this party.