rosa_acicularis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosa_acicularis) wrote2008-03-31 10:48 pm
rosa_acicularis) wrote2008-03-31 10:48 pm
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oh good lord, I've created a fangirl.
Three, to be precise. And not one of them is over the age of ten.
Three of the girls that I watch regularly just saw the 1939 Wizard of Oz for the first time. Understandably, they were entirely enraptured. As I understand it, the post-viewing conversation went something like this:
Three of the girls that I watch regularly just saw the 1939 Wizard of Oz for the first time. Understandably, they were entirely enraptured. As I understand it, the post-viewing conversation went something like this:
Kate: Monkeys! That fly!
Chloe: Shoes! That are shiny!
Sophie: What happens next? I mean, it can't just end there. That's stupid.
Kate: It wasn't a dream. It really, really wasn't.
Chloe: For true!
Sophie: Mom, what happens after Dorothy comes back to Kansas? She doesn't stay there, does she?
The Mom in Question: I really don't know. You should ask Rose - she did a big project on the Oz books for school.
Sophie: (beginning to drool) There are BOOKS?
Chloe: But Wizard of Oz is fun, not school. How'd she do a project on it?
The Mom: And that's something else you should ask her.
So I show up at their house this weekend and am immediately bombarded with questions. I tell you, these girls were tougher on me than my thesis oral examination board. "Why was the Wizard so dumb?" "How did the Tin Man get made?" "How many witches are there in Oz?" "Why are some witches nice and some wicked?" "Are the mean ones all green, all over?" "Who made the ruby slippers magic?" "Why doesn't Dorothy just take a plane back to Munchkinland?" "Why can't Toto talk if the Scarecrow and the Lion can?"
(My answers, in case you were wondering, were: "He isn't dumb; he's just a humbug who didn't know any better. A witch enchanted his ax to hack him into pieces, and he had a new body made from tin. Bunches and bunches. Because they want to be. Nope. No one knows. Because you can only get to Oz by accident or magic. He can talk - he just prefers to maintain a stoic silence.")
I also explained the discipline of literary criticism, and my personal belief that children's literature is about as important as important can get. They agreed heartily, and then continued to grill me on the significant plot points and scarier monsters of each of Baum's fourteen Oz books. The only way I could get them to hush up long enough to fall asleep that night was a solemn promise to bring my copies of the first few books the next day.
And I kept my promise, but, kid's attention spans being what they are, I didn't expect the books to get much of a reception. Boy, was I wrong.
We're already three-quarters of the way through Wonderful Wizard of Oz. (It's only taken us this long to get that far because they keep interrupting with more questions about future stories and Oz itself. Sophie insists on plugging her ears for spoilers.) That's only...thirteen and a quarter books to go. Assuming we stop with the Baum books. God save me from Ruth Plumly Thompson and the plot structure that wouldn't die.
Now you'll have to excuse me -- I have some research to do on turn of the century Kansas and literary/mythological precedents for The Land of Oz's Magical Powder of Life.
Geez. And I thought my thesis advisor was demanding.
Chloe: Shoes! That are shiny!
Sophie: What happens next? I mean, it can't just end there. That's stupid.
Kate: It wasn't a dream. It really, really wasn't.
Chloe: For true!
Sophie: Mom, what happens after Dorothy comes back to Kansas? She doesn't stay there, does she?
The Mom in Question: I really don't know. You should ask Rose - she did a big project on the Oz books for school.
Sophie: (beginning to drool) There are BOOKS?
Chloe: But Wizard of Oz is fun, not school. How'd she do a project on it?
The Mom: And that's something else you should ask her.
So I show up at their house this weekend and am immediately bombarded with questions. I tell you, these girls were tougher on me than my thesis oral examination board. "Why was the Wizard so dumb?" "How did the Tin Man get made?" "How many witches are there in Oz?" "Why are some witches nice and some wicked?" "Are the mean ones all green, all over?" "Who made the ruby slippers magic?" "Why doesn't Dorothy just take a plane back to Munchkinland?" "Why can't Toto talk if the Scarecrow and the Lion can?"
(My answers, in case you were wondering, were: "He isn't dumb; he's just a humbug who didn't know any better. A witch enchanted his ax to hack him into pieces, and he had a new body made from tin. Bunches and bunches. Because they want to be. Nope. No one knows. Because you can only get to Oz by accident or magic. He can talk - he just prefers to maintain a stoic silence.")
I also explained the discipline of literary criticism, and my personal belief that children's literature is about as important as important can get. They agreed heartily, and then continued to grill me on the significant plot points and scarier monsters of each of Baum's fourteen Oz books. The only way I could get them to hush up long enough to fall asleep that night was a solemn promise to bring my copies of the first few books the next day.
And I kept my promise, but, kid's attention spans being what they are, I didn't expect the books to get much of a reception. Boy, was I wrong.
We're already three-quarters of the way through Wonderful Wizard of Oz. (It's only taken us this long to get that far because they keep interrupting with more questions about future stories and Oz itself. Sophie insists on plugging her ears for spoilers.) That's only...thirteen and a quarter books to go. Assuming we stop with the Baum books. God save me from Ruth Plumly Thompson and the plot structure that wouldn't die.
Now you'll have to excuse me -- I have some research to do on turn of the century Kansas and literary/mythological precedents for The Land of Oz's Magical Powder of Life.
Geez. And I thought my thesis advisor was demanding.