Ken's Reviews > The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
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This book got a boost by a write-up of books to read in dark times (read: coronavirus times) in The New York Times (the times, they are a changin'). It's one of those intermediate little kids book that works just fine for adults with a heart, too (or without a heart, if you're feeling like Ebeneezer Scrooge on the verge of the Ghost of Christmas Future).
Literally, it's about a china rabbit, 3 feet tall, with all manner of uppity airs about himself. The grandmother of his owner, a little girl who lavishes attention on him, tells a grim, Grimm-like fairy tale of a witch who turns a beautiful (but heartless) princess into a warthog. Then Granny eyes the rabbit and says, quite simply, "You disappoint me." What "A" (fairy tale) has to do with "B" (Granny's disappointment with Edward) is for DiCamillo to know and the reader to find out.
The rest of the book traces unlikely links between figurative warthogs and literal rabbits. Edward's "journey" provides narrative momentum as he goes from good owner to bad, ocean depths to landfill mountains, female attires (rabbits are a tough call) to sporty red duds. Yes, all that burning up the 200 pages, but there's a much bigger journey happening in his heart. The reader just doesn't know it yet.
An allegory about love written with an economy of words is worthy of not only little-kid praise, but big-kid "I-need-a-break: kicking back" praise. Thanks, Edward, for reminding me it only looks like the end of the world out there. The journey isn't over.
Literally, it's about a china rabbit, 3 feet tall, with all manner of uppity airs about himself. The grandmother of his owner, a little girl who lavishes attention on him, tells a grim, Grimm-like fairy tale of a witch who turns a beautiful (but heartless) princess into a warthog. Then Granny eyes the rabbit and says, quite simply, "You disappoint me." What "A" (fairy tale) has to do with "B" (Granny's disappointment with Edward) is for DiCamillo to know and the reader to find out.
The rest of the book traces unlikely links between figurative warthogs and literal rabbits. Edward's "journey" provides narrative momentum as he goes from good owner to bad, ocean depths to landfill mountains, female attires (rabbits are a tough call) to sporty red duds. Yes, all that burning up the 200 pages, but there's a much bigger journey happening in his heart. The reader just doesn't know it yet.
An allegory about love written with an economy of words is worthy of not only little-kid praise, but big-kid "I-need-a-break: kicking back" praise. Thanks, Edward, for reminding me it only looks like the end of the world out there. The journey isn't over.
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Reading Progress
April 6, 2020
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April 6, 2020
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April 7, 2020
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April 7, 2020
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Julie
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Apr 07, 2020 03:11PM

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Great thing is, when you're done, you can share it with / give it to a little kid you care about. Me, I miss reading aloud to my kids. That nightly ritual was one of the best parts of parenting!


I'm kind of out of the loop on kiddie lit. I'd never heard of this book until the Times article, though I knew of Kate DiCamillo and even recall reading a book she wrote called Because of Winn-Dixie.

Me too. The good thing is, as I approach my second childhood, I look forward to my "kids" reading to me -- then we can have that wonderful time all over again. ; )


Me too. The good thing is, as I approach my second child..."
Thanks for the pick-me-up, Julie. Typically Mr. Pessimist here (that's me) thinks of "second childhoods" in terms of the return of diapers and drooling, but I like the positive slant you've taken, our kids reading to us.
In fact, come to think of it, this is done. I've read more than one account of ill parents being read aloud to by visiting children. Of course, this was when you could get into senior living buildings.
(Oh, wait. I'm getting pessimistic again.) Sorry!

Looks like Kate DiCamillo is just a wonderful author, then. That was the whole point of Ann Patchett's article in the New York Times--that we need to realize that authors who write for kids can be just as accomplished as authors who write for adults. Once we realize that, we can go back to (or enjoy for the first time) their books. Books like this bunny book.
(And here I thought The Runaway Bunny was the definitive bunny book. No, wait. Peter Cottontail. Ah, never mind. They're like bunnies, there are so many.)
