Bill Peet wrote over 35 classic children’s picture books before he died in 2002 but this one was my favorite. He is considered one of the most important author/illustrators in American history and he is still very much a favorite there. (It is hard to find his picture books in Australian bookstores - although they are all still in print). What I hadn’t realised until this weekend was that Peet actually wrote and produced for Disney and worked on amazing films like Fantasia and Peter Pan. When I re-read Jennifer and Josephine (published in 1967) last night I found that his illustrations really take on a life of their own, they are very atmospheric and almost run past your eyes like the animation in those classic films. This must have been one of the things I loved about this book when I was little.

The Jennifer from the title is an old automobile built in 1933. She is worn out and sits in a junkyard, her friend is Josephine a “scrawny stray cat”. Josephine has raised kittens in Jennifer and they are great friends until one day Jennifer is bought from the junkyard by a very rude and frantic man they nickname Mr. Frenzy.

The story is all about friendship and loyalty as Jennifer and Josephine stick together and look after each other to get through their hair raising journey with Mr. Frenzy.

Another thing that I now recognise I must have loved is actually what an adult storyline this book has. Peet dosen’t tell a soppy story, Jennifer and Josephine travels at a fast pace with some spooky bits “Billowing black clouds rolled over the countryside, and a streak of lightning shot through the sky followed by a great rumble of thunder.” And lots of adventure: “the road was hilly as a camel’s back and all mud” .

From the Houghton Mifflan site I found this quote from Peet: “Most of my animal characters have human personalities, and some are much like the people I know.”  Jennifer and Josephine is dedicated “To three stray kittens the Peet family discovered on the Malibu Road” - I love that.

When I pulled this off the shelf a couple of weeks ago to read and write about, Ned adopted it and has been devoted to it ever since. It has a lot of text but Ned loves to lie back with daddy and have Jennifer and Josephine read aloud to him.

When I was little, my grandparents’ house had several copies of the Pookie books by Ivy Wallace. I remember rifling through the soft creamy pages, taking in all the details from the pastel illustrations.

Pookie is a rabbit with wings, and he comes to live with a woodcutter’s daughter named Belinda. He sleeps in Belinda’s work basket, with red satin lining, and wears flounced blue overalls. A total of ten books were published in the series, between 1946 and 1966. In the early 90s Ivy and her daughters initiated a re-release of four of the titles through their own publishing venture, Pookie Productions.

I think my favourite title would have to be Pookie Puts the World Right - the ambition of the title alone makes me love it. In this story, there is a terrible storm in the wood, and Pookie and Belinda take in the homeless animals - Pookie makes tiny beds for them in cardboard boxes with miniature sheets and pillows. While out checking for more animals in need of shelter, Pookie encounters Winter, who with its icy voice, speaks to Pookie. Pookie loses his temper and shouts at Winter, telling it to go away for it has come too early. And, to Pookie’s amazement, Winter listens! The animals call Pookie a hero! But little by little the woodland animals realise that that they can’t manage without a Winter - they need it for resting-time, for their winter coats, and for their winter stores of food. So it’s up to Pookie to put the world right again. In the era of climate change, there is a message here that’s more poignant than ever.

The detail of the illustrations of these books is exquisite - the animals, flowers and woodland scenes are so very English, and the interiors of the woodland cottage perfectly of the 1950s era. The muted blues, greens and oranges of Wallace’s pallate are beautiful. The pages are quite heavy with text, but the dialogue-rich text make these books lovely read-alouds. As I flick through their pages, I can almost smell my Nana’s flannelette sheets, feel her hot water bottle on my feet and fluffy eiderdown up to my chin…

To me the Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories are like being wrapped in a big warm blanket and being hugged by my mum. They are comfy, cosy stories written about a time long ago, that are still relevant and adored today. Joyce Lankester Brisley first wrote about Milly-Molly-Mandy in 1928, she is a little girl growing up in a lovely little English village where she can roam and play without a care. This was obviously one of the things that really appealed to me at 6+ about the books was Milly-Molly-Mandy’s freedom to explore and experience new things in the village.

I loved that she lives in a thatched cottage with her extended family of Grandmother and Grandfather, Aunt and Uncle and Mother and Father, how wonderful to live with all those people to love you and look after you. I can also remember feeling embraced by the sense of community in the stories as Milly-Molly-Mandy attends fete’s and parties organised for the children of the village, she helps keep shop and gets to know the teacher, she helps thatch a roof and attends the blacksmiths wedding.

Brisley’s beautiful line drawings accompany the text perfectly, even though the illustrations were never in colour I could still vividly imagine Milly-Molly-Mandy in her pink and white striped dress. The end papers are a gorgeous map of the village which I loved pouring over to see where Milly-Molly-Mandy was in each story. Every couple of pages within the text there is a glorious illustration of a scene, full of quaint detail that you could look over again and again.

Although the stories could be twee I don’t believe that they are even today, they are certainly sweet but not sacrine. Milly-Molly-Mandy is an adorable character but she is also strong and confident. Joyce Lankester Brisley was a trailblazer, creating a strong female character who can certainly still sit beside recent strong little girl characters like Hannah created by Libby Gleeson, Sophie by Dick King-Smith and of course Lauren Child’s Clarice books.

Recently there has been an edition of Milly-Molly-Mandy released that is illustrated by Clara Vulliamy (daughter of Shirley Hughes) and it has just been rereleased in a gift box with a doll.

You need go no further than Facebook to discover the cult following of this vintage Australian classic. Believe it or not, at last count Grug had 25,659 friends!

It would have been a rare Australian primary school in the 1980s that didn’t have a copy of some of the Grug books on their shelves. The first four books in the series by Ted Prior were first published in 1979, and the colours and design give it that unmissable 70s style.

Grug is a small creature who began life as the top of a Burrawong tree, which one day fell off, and gradually morphed into Grug. He has a unique view on the world; he’s a bit of a loner, but occasionally sets out to interact with the world in his own special way.

I remember taking some of these books home as readers, and have a very nostalgic feelings towards little Grug - he’s so industrious, but also so sensitive and considerate …

There were about 25 books in total published in the Grug series,

issued right up to the late 80s and early 90s. One of Grug’s many fans includes Australian author, Marcus Zusak, most famous for writing The Book Thief.

Harry the Dirty Dog, originally published in 1956, is another book that I vividly remember from childhood and as a testament to its appeal it remains a huge seller in bookshops today.

Harry is a little white dog with black spots who has an aversion to baths (what dog doesn’t?). One day when he hears the water running he buries the scrubbing brush and runs away from home. Gradually during his very adventurous day around the city he becomes a very dirty dog: ‘In fact, he changed from a white dog with black spots, to a black dog with white spots‘.

When Harry returns home his family doesn’t recognise him as their dog. Then the real fun begins as Harry tries to convince the family that he belongs to them ending with…a bath!

Husband and wife team Gene Zion and Margaret Bloy Graham created several Harry books together; No Roses for Harry, Harry by the Sea and Harry and the Lady Next Door, all with simple story lines about Harry getting in - and out of - trouble. What really makes me love these books now as an adult is the illustrations by Bloy Graham and their lovely warm 1950s style. There is always so much happening in her artwork, I love the people with their wide eyed expressions, and Harry of course just has so much personality in his up turned nose.

This is one of those books that everyone I know always adds to their ‘must have’ children’s book list and rightly so, it’s a classic.

It’s a special feeling when you discover a book that you and your partner both loved as children. The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lunch is one of those books for me and Brad. Even nicer is the fact that Rowan is now loving it too.

Published in 1977, The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lunch was the first children’s book by Ronda Armitage, and was illustrated by her husband David. Ronda is a New Zealander and David an Australian, and they dreamed of being lighthouse keepers themselves. The story has that living-a-fantasy quality to it - and it’s infectious. You can’t help but think how nice it would be to live in a lighthouse and have as your sole responsibility tending to the light.

The protagonists in this story, Mr and Mrs Grinling, don’t live in the lighthouse itself. They live in a small white cottage perched high on the cliffs opposite, and Mr Grinling rows out to the lighthouse to clean and polish the light. Mrs Grinling is an amazing cook and each day she prepares a delicious fresh lunch for her husband. She packs the lunch in a basket and clips it to a wire, which runs from the little white cottage all the way across to the lighthouse.

But one day, something terrible happens and before the lunch reaches Mr Grinling along the wire, it is discovered by three hungry seagulls, who devour the lot. The rest of the story follows the attempts that Mr and Mrs Grinling make to deter the pesky seagulls.

The idea of lunch on a wire is brilliant and as a little girl I found it fascinating to imagine. In the same way that I loved A Big Ball of String, I was so drawn to the idea of a contraption that had been strung up for this purpose. Brad says he loved the descriptions of all the delicious food - and I can’t fault him there. How would you like this on your Monday lunch menu? ‘Mixed seafood salad, a Lighthouse Sandwich, Cold Chicken Garni, Sausages and Crisps, Peach Surprise, Iced Sea Biscuits and drinks and assorted fruit.’ Enough to make your mouth water.

Written in 1977 by Shirley Hughes, Dogger is a timeless classic, especially in my heart. Dogger is about a toy dog, “a soft brown toy dog…with his fur worn in places because he was quite old. He belonged to Dave.” Dave takes Dogger everywhere and he is his special toy. Dave’s baby brother Joe is teething so he likes hard toys to bite and Dave’s big sister Bella (I love that name) takes seven teddies to bed every night but Dave only wants Dogger.

One day Dogger goes missing and turns up for sale on the toy table at the school fete. A little girl buys him much to Dave’s horror and he cries and cries until big sister Bella comes to the rescue swapping her lovely big new teddy with the little girl in return for Dogger.

I think what I really loved about this picture book was the reality of the story for me. My little brother had a toy Snoopy that he loved carrying around with him and I can remember cramming my bed with teddies, making sure each one was snug. Bella’s kindness has really stuck with me all these years, such an incredible thing for a big sister to do, to give up her wonderful new prize to get Dogger back.

Warmth radiates from Shirley Hughes’ illustrations, I love Mum with her cool ’70s head scarf and the ‘Darlek’ costume at the fancy dress parade. The double page spread of an aeriel view of the fete is mesmerising, the bunting flapping in the breeze and fresh sponges on the cake table. Her illustrations actually barely need words because the expressions of the characters are so perfect that they convey every emotion, this is equally apparent in her wordless picture book Up and Up, which I posted about here.

But don’t for one minute think that this book is outdated; Dogger is endearing every time I read it and I hope in a couple of years Ned will really enjoy it too. (It is quite texty so will probably be better for him when he is over two). I also know he will identify with Dave and his special toy, Ned has Hutch! This is an old photo of them together when Hutch looked new…

Dogger won the Kate Greenaway Medal, awarded for distinguished illustration in 1977. If you love/loved Dogger too, read this wonderful interview Shirley gave to the Guardian last year about the real life Dogger.

I know Lou reviewed a Berenstain book for When We Were Little Sunday last week, but a golden photo opportunity this evening means a repeat mention is required.

The book is Old Hat, New Hat by Stan and Jan Berenstain. It was, I am told, my very favourite book as a toddler - one of those ones that I knew every word of and could tell straight away if a page was skipped (which means, of course, that I made my parents read this book over and over ad nauseum…) Although I don’t remember this experience in detail, the book held fond memories for me, and it was one of the first books I bought when I began working in a bookshop.

The book tells the story of a bear who goes hat shopping, entering a store with his ‘old hat’ and surveying a display of new hats. The shop assistant provides a range of many hats to try, and models showcase still more, but every hat has a problem.

The repetition and rhyme are great fun and as a read-aloud it lends itself to indignant tones, at an increasing pace, as the bear becomes more fussy and the shop assistant more and more exasperated. I think one reason toddlers love this book is because it allows them to imagine being able to refuse and complain as much as they like! In the end, inevitably, the bear realises that sometimes a new model can’t replace a trusty old favourite.

At dinner with my mum and dad and two sisters tonight, we were discussing Dr Seuss and Berenstein Bear books and I brought out my copy of Old Hat, New Hat. Rowan had it read to him for the first time. I think he enjoyed hearing it almost as much as I did as a toddler, but not quite as much as much as my dad enjoyed reading it again. That was, until the fourth reading, after which Rowan still called out, ‘Again!’

When Ned was born his dad insisted we get a copy of Bears In The Night because he remembered it from when he was little.

Bears in the Night is one of the Bright and Early Books for Beginning Beginners series written by Stan and Jan Berenstain. There’s not much to this skinny little book but Ned’s dad can remember it word for word. The text is great because it matches exactly what is happening in the illustration and is repetitious which aids children in memorising the story - one of the first steps to reading. There are only 24 words used in the story but repeated over and over and over again.

There is also an exciting build up as the bears sneak out of bed late at night - what’s going to happen? - and then a big BOOO and back you go through the text until the bears are safe in bed again. It is quite fun to read aloud as you can use lots of different tones and speeds with your voice.

There are now so many Berenstain Bears books in print I’ve lost count (I think there are over 250),  although I do remember the favourite of my brother and I was The Bike Lesson. The Bears now have their own TV series and website.

I don’t have a particular time and place associated with my memories of The Velveteen Rabbit, but the story was firmly a part of my childhood, as it was for many before me… I hadn’t realised how old this book was, first published in 1922! The text was written by Margery Williams and it was illustrated, most famously, by William Nicholson. Anyone you know have an original edition? Check out how much one of those treasures is worth at Bookride (a blog about rare and valuable books with entertaining commentary)…

I just love the narrative style of this story, it is the perfect book to read aloud. Many of the beautifully composed sentences are filled with irony, or with a quiet understatedness that seems to be typical of early 20th-century children’s publishing. It’s a style that’s inclusive, drawing the young reader into assumptions or generalisations while using grown-up language: “He was naturally shy, and being only made of velveteen, some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him… [The Rabbit] didn’t know that real rabbits existed; he thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself, and he understood that sawdust was quite out-of-date and should never be mentioned in modern circles.”

Despite the old-world setting of this book – with its descriptions of the nursery toys, playing in the wood and scarlet fever – it has the ultimate timeless subject matter: a child’s relationship with a favourite toy. How easy it is to identify with the toy rabbit, who is at first ignored, then gradually becomes a much loved companion and before long one without whom the little boy can’t sleep. When I was little, I felt a real connection with the story, and I distinctly remember likening details of it to elements of my own life: the description of the gardener’s bonfire location is inextricably linked to a memory of our own backyard incinerator.

I also had a very special rabbit toy myself, which must have been given to me as a baby. It had a bell inside it, and was much loved, with patches of fur worn off. One day I lost ‘Bummy’, and although he was replaced with an identical newer model, it was never the same, and even today, I feel a lingering sense of loss for this toy… Isn’t it strange how such a toy can imprint on us emotionally?

When Brad and I were choosing readings for our wedding, I knew when I came across a passage from The Velveteen Rabbit that it had to be part of our ceremony. Two of my little sisters did a beautiful rendition of the passage on becoming ‘Real’:

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become REAL.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints, and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”