How do you write a review of something that has been part of your life from birth? That’s the struggle I’m having writing about Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne. One of my earliest memories was watching the Disney movie and being captivated by the turning of the pages and the use of the book as a framing reference for each story. The art, the music, the gentle wisdom and inherent kindness all resonated with me like very few things have since. I was such a fervent fan that all I wanted was a Winnie the Pooh toy. This was before you could find Disney merchandise in a gas station, it took my parents a couple of years to track one down, and I was in heaven. The day I got it, I took Winnie out to play and left him napping in a doghouse sitting on the curb while I ran home for lunch. Imagine my horror when I came out and saw the trash truck taking off with the doghouse, with Winnie still inside.
I finally got a Winnie the Pooh bear and slept with him every night until he lost his eyes, his nose, his mouth, and most of his fur. It was very Velveteen Rabbit, honestly.
Somewhere along the way I read the books and have read them several times over the years, including once again this morning. This time around, I was struck by just how British they are.
In the last few decades, I’ve read a lot of British books and I see that underlying structure in Winnie now. The gentle, understated humor, the unspoken sentiment, the sideways look at life – it’s all there, and it’s so charming.
I think what really gets me about Winnie the Pooh is how multi-layered it is. The scene with Eeyore about his birthday, for example, is a masterclass in the words saying one thing while the meaning is completely different. “Sad? Why should I be sad? It’s my birthday. The happiest day of the year.” It’s passive-aggressive, which is rare in children’s literature, but it also grabs your heart and makes you want to give him a hug. In fact, I wanted to give all of them hugs. Winnie the Pooh with his very little brain. Piglet with his huge heart. Rabbit with his pretensions and bossiness. They’re all so finely drawn and so individual.
This is a gentle book but it also has a lesson to teach, but it never screams it. It just lets the story meander past the meaning like a stick floating under a bridge, trusting the reader to see it without beating them over the head with it.
Maybe kids today prefer the frenetic shows and books they’re fed now. I’m glad I had Winnie the Pooh. I think it made me a better person. I think it made a lot of us better people, and what more can you want from a book, even one about a silly old bear.
Six sentimental-but-fully-deserved stars
Winnie was part of my childhood as well. We lived without electricity in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip, so my mother spent hours reading to us. Winnie was the winner for everyone. It was wonderful to have my childhood love passed on to my daughter.