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My Little Boy
My little boy is beginning to live. Carefully, stumbling now and then on his little knock-kneed legs, he makes his way over the paving-stones, looks at everything that there is to look at and bites at every apple, both those which are his due and those which are forbidden him. He is not a pretty child and is the more likely to grow into a fine lad. But he is charming. His face can light up suddenly and become radiant; he can look at you with quite cold eyes. He has a strong intuition and he is incorruptible. He has never yet bartered a kiss for barley-sugar. There are people whom he likes and people whom he dislikes. There is one who has long courted his favour indefatigably and in vain; and, the other day, he formed a close friendship with another who had not so much as said "Good day" to him before he had crept into her lap and nestled there with glowing resolution.
120 pages, Hardback
First published January 1, 1906
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
June 4, 2013
This short book filled me with a world of joy at the privilege of being the parent of my own little boy. Rarely do I find this kind of indulgence in the pleasure of humoring a young mind and engaging it with so much attention as we do with this wonderful ode to kids, to parents, to dads. And it's an old book, it is so obvious from the way it's written that it is an old book, yet the parent child relationship comes through as timeless.
Just in time for father's day!
Just in time for father's day!
June 13, 2014
A book like this displays the virtues of being able to communicate one's thoughts in a language, any language. One can only imagine that a book which is this good in translation was that much more incredible in the Danish original. Plus, mmmm, danish. Make mine cinnamon.
Carl Ewald's tribute to the endless wonder and amusement that his little six year old boy is is a wonderful read - sweet, selfish, brutish, curious, loving - if you know a six year old, you know his little boy, just tweak the traits to fit the kid you know. Of course Ewald the Elder is himself a worthy father (at least as he tells it) because he dares not force himself or his views on his son.
At times one wants to cluck in disapproval (e.g., when Ewald writes how his little boy enjoys picking up sticks and striking strangers for a reason known only to the boy, there is nary a hint that this father ever considers preventing the boy from doing this, or at least attempting to get him to stop). In one part, the little Ewald gets religion, and many a father I know can relate to the challenge this poses to a less-than-devout parent. And there's a touching section in which we learn that the limits of daddy's tolerance for his little buck's foibles is racism (in this case, antisemitism) and when his little boy is misled on that path, he is firmly corrected by his otherwise permissive parent, who prizes a child learning and making their own way.
In all: it is earnest and moving and sweet, and if I was not ערל שפתים I do believe I'd write my own My Little Boy and - lucky me! - My Little Girl.
Carl Ewald's tribute to the endless wonder and amusement that his little six year old boy is is a wonderful read - sweet, selfish, brutish, curious, loving - if you know a six year old, you know his little boy, just tweak the traits to fit the kid you know. Of course Ewald the Elder is himself a worthy father (at least as he tells it) because he dares not force himself or his views on his son.
At times one wants to cluck in disapproval (e.g., when Ewald writes how his little boy enjoys picking up sticks and striking strangers for a reason known only to the boy, there is nary a hint that this father ever considers preventing the boy from doing this, or at least attempting to get him to stop). In one part, the little Ewald gets religion, and many a father I know can relate to the challenge this poses to a less-than-devout parent. And there's a touching section in which we learn that the limits of daddy's tolerance for his little buck's foibles is racism (in this case, antisemitism) and when his little boy is misled on that path, he is firmly corrected by his otherwise permissive parent, who prizes a child learning and making their own way.
In all: it is earnest and moving and sweet, and if I was not ערל שפתים I do believe I'd write my own My Little Boy and - lucky me! - My Little Girl.
June 24, 2014
Teaching My Little Girls Tolerance With “My Little Boy”
“Could you read us another chapter? Could you?” Miri asked.
I had just finished reading the second to last chapter of “My Little Boy” to my kids for their bedtime story, but they wanted more; clearly they were as in love with the boy in the story as I was with the boy’s father.
After hearing a version of the book performed by Orson Welles, I had to read it, and after reading it, I reread it. What was it about this book that made it so compelling, so magical? And why am I reading this adult book to my kids?
Written in 1899 by Denmark writer Carl Ewald, the book is focused on the half-year period before his 5-year-old son begins school. We see a precocious little boy learning about the world from his unconventional father who does not hesitate to teach his son his hard-won truths.
Last week, we read chapter 14 in which the little boy comes home “greatly excited and proud and glad like one who has fearlessly done his duty.” The boy’s father asks him what has been going on in the courtyard. Upon learning that “it was only a Jew boy whom we were licking” the little boy’s father grabs him by the hand and runs around the streets seeking the ill-used boy. They are unsuccessful in locating the Jewish boy and the father devotes the entire day to educating his little boy on Jewish history. At the end of that day the boy is hot and red and turns restlessly in bed. The boy’s mother comments that the boy is a little feverish, the boy’s father says, “That is not surprising. Today I have vaccinated him against the meanest of all mean and vulgar diseases.”
My father, unlike Carl Ewald, didn’t have the luxury of working from home; instead he was out at 4 a.m. and often didn’t come home until 9 p.m., working hard to pay our tuition so we could get the education he valued so highly. For even with the minor disagreements he had with some of the ideas we were picking up in school, he didn’t feel the same way the author of that little book felt about school–he did in fact cherish our education.
read the rest of my semi-biographical review of My Little Boy on Kveller Magazine
“Could you read us another chapter? Could you?” Miri asked.
I had just finished reading the second to last chapter of “My Little Boy” to my kids for their bedtime story, but they wanted more; clearly they were as in love with the boy in the story as I was with the boy’s father.
After hearing a version of the book performed by Orson Welles, I had to read it, and after reading it, I reread it. What was it about this book that made it so compelling, so magical? And why am I reading this adult book to my kids?
Written in 1899 by Denmark writer Carl Ewald, the book is focused on the half-year period before his 5-year-old son begins school. We see a precocious little boy learning about the world from his unconventional father who does not hesitate to teach his son his hard-won truths.
Last week, we read chapter 14 in which the little boy comes home “greatly excited and proud and glad like one who has fearlessly done his duty.” The boy’s father asks him what has been going on in the courtyard. Upon learning that “it was only a Jew boy whom we were licking” the little boy’s father grabs him by the hand and runs around the streets seeking the ill-used boy. They are unsuccessful in locating the Jewish boy and the father devotes the entire day to educating his little boy on Jewish history. At the end of that day the boy is hot and red and turns restlessly in bed. The boy’s mother comments that the boy is a little feverish, the boy’s father says, “That is not surprising. Today I have vaccinated him against the meanest of all mean and vulgar diseases.”
My father, unlike Carl Ewald, didn’t have the luxury of working from home; instead he was out at 4 a.m. and often didn’t come home until 9 p.m., working hard to pay our tuition so we could get the education he valued so highly. For even with the minor disagreements he had with some of the ideas we were picking up in school, he didn’t feel the same way the author of that little book felt about school–he did in fact cherish our education.
read the rest of my semi-biographical review of My Little Boy on Kveller Magazine
November 17, 2017
Review from a Non-parent:
Delightful view of teaching life's important lessons. Some take, some don't. But this would be a good inclusion in the parenting curriculum
Delightful view of teaching life's important lessons. Some take, some don't. But this would be a good inclusion in the parenting curriculum
May 5, 2020
I am not a parent and don't know if I will ever be. But I got a taste of the beauty, the joy, and the fear of parenthood. I laughed and I cried out of joy. A very beautiful read.
December 28, 2020
Sweet, with a sharp sentimentality & humor
A father shares his attempt to guide his little boy into the ways of the world while preserving as much of his curiosity and innocence.
A father shares his attempt to guide his little boy into the ways of the world while preserving as much of his curiosity and innocence.
December 30, 2022
Dated, but still a litle bit revelant. The innocent child, the guiding parent, life lessons.
October 25, 2015
I started out open-minded and very rapidly went to "what? He did what-?" And then "what a jerk" and then "total asshole".
I kept reading though, and eventually started nodding because he had some good points. By the end of the book I was reconciled that he was, after all, human.
And therefore I won't judge.
I kept reading though, and eventually started nodding because he had some good points. By the end of the book I was reconciled that he was, after all, human.
And therefore I won't judge.
December 2, 2013
This is a classic. I highly recommend to any parent. The descriptions of this man's love for his little son are heartbreakingly poignant and yet very funny at the same time. I adored the author's "lessons" he teaches his little boy, and also his recognition of the lessons that his son teaches him.
July 16, 2010
Possibly my favorite book ever. It's out of print so one would have to find it on-line.
A wise father, this Danish author, who opened my mind to a whole different kind of parenting.
A wise father, this Danish author, who opened my mind to a whole different kind of parenting.
July 1, 2011
Wonderful portrayal of Copenhagen culture at the beginning of the 20th century, as the author muses on the challenges of life and parenthood.
April 27, 2016
A gem of a little book. Disarmingly simple prose. Poignant and human.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews