Books for the Childish

“There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.” – Marcel Proust

Bullpen Day three. Still here. Despite wrestling futilely for two days with the blogging template. Apparently the thing LOOKS differently to different people. Well too bad. this is what we are living with until I get my strength back. So suck it up.

Victoria Beckham is writing a childrens book! oh goody! sign me up please! Remind me again…she’s famous for what? being married to a soccer player..oh yeah that’s right. And L@@KY! Ted Kennedy is gonna write one too!! and he’s what? like 73 and been a functioning alcoholic what since forever.

Well, why the hell not? it’s like getting a star on Hollywood boulevard – anyone who IS anyone isn’t really anyone until they have written a children’s book right? I mean like Jamie Lee Curtis, Julie Andrews, Madonna, John Lithgow, Jerry Sienfeld – even Ed Koch has written a book for the little tykes.

What I want to know is DO they REALLY truly think it’s the kids who are reading their books? Perhaps by writing for children they are disguising the fact that they ..shall we say….can’t write? I mean lots of people known for being actual WRITERS have written for the rugrat market. Ian Fleming and E.B. White actually had a flair for it.

The best series EVER, is Random House’s Landmark series, where they coerce, bribed and cajoled people with much more important things to do, to pick up a pen and scribble something for the next generation. And for their time they were just the ticket – Quentin Reynolds, C.S. Forester, Mackinley Kantor, and Robert Penn Warren ALL must had day jobs. But somehow I just don’t see Victoria Beckham’s book being read 30 years from now – maybe it’s because Im just not into soccer groupies.

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