Books for a Buck: Wee G.

This post marks an exciting development at Critique de Mr. Chompchomp. I'm introducing a semi-regular feature called Books for a Buck. In honor of the ongoing recession I will relate my most frugal reading experiences. The books discussed in this feature must have been acquired for one dollar or less. They might come from rummage sales, remainder piles, used book stores, library sales, the gutter outside my house, or my attic where my retired-school-teacher parents dumped their old literary holdings.

Perhaps the most cherished book in the Chompchomp household is Wee G. by Harriet Zeifert. I first picked up this book when my first child (Mini-Chomp) was about two and spotted it at a library book sale. I paid 25 cents for it, brought it home and read it to her that night before bed. It instantly became part of a bedtime ritual nearly every night for at least a year. No book, not even The Very Hungry Caterpillar, held her attention as raptly. As soon as she could talk she memorized the text of Wee G and spoke it along with me as I read.

A few years later my son (Extra-Mini-Chomp) reacted almost identically.

From an adult perspective it's tough to grasp the appeal of this book. In it, Wee G gets out of bed, goes out to play, chases a butterfly until she's lost in the woods, finds her way back home where her mother greets her, eats dinner, takes a bath and goes to sleep. It's nice and all, but not exactly gripping. It lacks the humor of the other books that have become kids' favorites. As a story, it's just kinda "there."

But the art and the language combine to make for a picture book that is irresistibly sweet. The art is primitive and childlike. Figures are boldly outlined and misproportioned but contain perfectly recognizable details that mark spots in the story. Wee G waits for a friend in a bucket, she wears a cozy pink sweater and bathes in a claw foot tub.

The language is gently rhythmic and captures the thoughts of Wee G, who gets excited but never hyper, worried but never panicked, providing just the appropriate amount of adventure for a toddler (even, apparently, one who bolts for the woods at every opportunity, eats fistfuls of garden dirt and enjoys head-butting mastiffs).

A little over a year ago, horror struck the Chompchomp household when our dog, a part German shepherd mutt with an insatiable appetite for ballet slippers and children's books, ate Wee G.

My youngest--and last--child (Ultra-Mini-Chomp) is now 20 months old. Yesterday, a replacement copy of Wee G. arrived from AbeBooks (it was a dollar, plus some postage, so unless you incorporate addition--which I don't recommend--I'm still within the Books for a Buck rules). It's been read to her over and over already and today she's been wandering around the house saying "weeshee."