A kingdom of sorrow over a kingdom of happiness.
I like to think I'll make an excellent father.
Not right now, of course. I'm a bit low in the way of cash-flow to start buying diapers and paying down a mortgage, much less saving for college tuition. And money aside, I'm hardly emotionally ready for having a kid. Fortunately barring some sort of unplanned adoption, I'm probably in the clear, given I'm not exactly doing the prerequisite actions for infant production
Yes, the "fortunately" is chiefly for the topic of fatherhood, rather than life in general.
I do, though: I'm pretty good with kids, I've got a pretty good handle on discipline, and I'm patient. Or so I believe. Time will tell; it always does.
Whenever I do get there, though, the thing that I really can't wait for?
The read-alouds.
I have fond, half-faded memories of my father reading us, thousands of times, big picture-book editions of Disney films. Sometimes he'd just read them straight, sometimes he'd depart from the text and spin a reimagined tale using the illustrations as his new text. If we were really lucky? He'd do it backwards.
And then, as he/she grows up? More books. The Hobbit (the Lord of the Rings, in all forms, can wait), Danny, Champion of the World, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.
And, one day, The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander.
I just finished The High King, the final of five books, and it was just as satisfying as I remember. In the general way which things are as you reread them after a long time apart. I'd forgotten, for instance, that Eilonwy packed so many amusing turns of phrase into her speech ("you look as if a mountain were about to fall on your head."), although I'd remembered her constant, lingering threat to our bewildered hero: "Taran of Caer Dallben, I'm not speaking to you any more!" I'd remembered Fflewddur's coloring of the facts, but forgotten his valorous declarations on the behalf of all his ancestors: A Fflam never falters! My mind had been infected by scarce memories of Disney-the-Foul's adorable, somewhat plaintive Gurgi, forgetting the valor and unflagging loyalty of the true creature. I'd seen the Taran of the tale's end, and in my memory of the gain had forgotten the striving. I'd remembered the sword-and-trumpet victories of The Black Cauldron, but forgotten the more quiet struggles, and finer triumphs, of Taran Wanderer. Above all, I'd remembered that Lloyd Alexander can break your heart; I'd forgotten how easy he makes it seem, or how sweetly bitter his emotional sadism is.
There were a few things which might have, in a lesser series (or maybe just one with less emotional and nostalgic weight), been seen as a flaw. Mostly, the pacing is absurdly fast: The High King could easily have been double the lenght for the amount of plot it covered; as it is, there's about five battles which are given about one sentence of description, and it works, but it just speeds by. And you can be certain it didn't speed by for the characters. Not at all. But it's a children's series, not A Song of Ice and Fire, so it is highly sensible not to dwell.
I feel like I should have a thousand words to say on the subject, but looking back, Alexander's quarter-million words are enough. I'm not sure how high a praise I can laud on Lloyd Alexander without seeming hyperbolic, although given he won one Newbury Medal1 outright for The High King, and a Newbury Honor for The Black Cauldron, one assumes it's a difficult task. (For the record: Lemony Snicket, J.K. Rowling? Not a Newbury between them. Not that there's anything wrong with that). If you ever have a child old enough for chapter books, and your're looking for something, anything, to read them to sleep, I urge Lloyd Alexander on you beyond all measure of excess. Let them discover wisdom, sacrifice, pride, and suffering. Let them discover Prydain.
One day, I hope mine will do the same.
1: Easily my favorite of literary awards. Yes, that includes not only the Caldecott Medal but also the Pultzer Prize, and Nobel Prise for Literature Yeah, I'm a bit odd
Time for Crunchings and Munchings