… The sense of an ending descends gradually, like sleep. … t is partly spoken in the voice of the child, who takes possession of that world by naming its particulars all over again, addressing them directly, one by one, as though each were alive, and bidding each goodnight. It is also a ritual preparation for a journey beyond that world, a leave-taking of the known for the unknown world of darkness and dreams. Goodnight Moon is a supremely comforting evocation of the companionable objects of the daylight world. Marcus wrote the following in the biography of Margaret Wise Brown (and this makes me want to read the biography): Then he quotes Leonard Marcus’ thoughts about Goodnight Moon. And even the simplest-seeming of our children’s books teaches something elegant and deep. Lerer wrote:Įven the most ordinary prose becomes magical when read aloud at bedtime. It is a textbook about children’s reading, and, as the subtitle states, Lerer is following the child-aged reader through history, rather than the writer, as many such books do.Īs I read the introduction, I felt shivers of excitement as he talked about the power children’s literature can have on a child’s life. I have only just begun to read it, but so far I enjoy it very much. I recently purchased Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History from Aesop to Harry Potter by Seth Lerer. The words are simple, and the rhymes are lilting and gentle. Some nights we read backward because my son wants to turn the pages himself. On some squirmy nights we read very quickly. Some nights I point out the toys in the pictures. But it is a different experience every night. Yes, every night the little bunny says goodnight to the same objects in his same green room in the same order. But nights like the other night, nights when he is excited to read, reinforce the need to keep reading.īesides, I’ve found that I love to read Goodnight Moon. Reading to him was a struggle for a few months, especially when he started “eating” the books (literally taking a bite out of one book).

After all, at four months, I know he wasn’t really listening or looking at the pictures. I read it to him every night for months.Īt first, I thought I’d get tired of reading him the same story every night. At that point, it was one of the five children’s books that was not 16,000 miles away in storage. My son was 3½-months-old when my mother sent him Goodnight Moon for Christmas. He stopped squirming and clapped his hands together, ready for his story. “In the great green room,” I began, setting him on my knee.

Goodnight moon brown