This collection brings together the poems Ted Hughes wrote for children throughout his life. They are arranged by volume, beginning with those for reading aloud to the very young, progressing to the poems in "Under the North Star" and "What is the Truth?" and ending with "Season Songs", which Hughes remarked was written 'within hearing' of children. Raymond Briggs brings to the collection two hundred original drawings that capture the wit, gentleness and humanity of these poems and make this a book any reader - child and adult - will return to again and again.
Edward James Hughes was an English poet, translator, and children's writer. Critics frequently rank him as one of the best poets of his generation and one of the twentieth century's greatest writers. He was appointed Poet Laureate in 1984 and held the office until his death. In 2008, The Times ranked Hughes fourth on its list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945". He married fellow poet Sylvia Plath in 1956, and they lived together in the United States and then in England, in a tumultuous relationship. They had two children before separating in 1962 and Plath ended her own life in 1963.
Ranging from the deliberately daft (e.g. Meet my Folks, the Moon poems) to the serious but accessible (e.g. Season Songs), this collection brings together all the poetry for children Hughes wrote in one place. Nevermind the kids - read it yourself and see Hughes' more light-hearted and comedic side.
I recently read The Iron Man (aka The Iron Giant) by the author and enjoyed it thoroughly but was disappointed in this collection of Hughes' work.
I was hoping that this collection of poems would be like the British equivalent of Shel Silverstein. It was not. And that might be unfair to Ted Hughes and what he has meant to millions of readers but I was left disappointed.
Fortunately, I have a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends and The Giving Tree to wash the taste of this away.
Hughes' poems for young people are arranged according to target age but well before you hit the halfway point you're in 9-99 territory. Even toward the front of the book, when you're dealing with the goofiest verse for the littlest tykes (see the selections from "Meet My Folks"), Hughes' work has far more heft than the "for Children" designation prompts the wizened reader to expect.
Just beautiful love them all but especially Season Songs and the one about Loch Ness Monster. Bought this because most were excluded from the Collected Poems (2003) which was only his adult poetry, but these are on a par with his best.
I hate that I loved this book. I need to let it go and move on. But these poems were delightful, simple, clever, funny and numerous. Where did he find the time? Delightfully illustrated too with simple pencil sketches that do not distract from the words. I particularly enjoyed the Moon Whales and other Moon poems chapter, there was some quite fantastical verse in there. My only criticism is his subject matter, mostly flora and fauna, is very stereotyped. I don't think he really spent any time appreciating goats or hedgehogs or nasturtiums or the minutia of plants and animals because he comes across as so mean about them. Goats are horny and hairy, plants have bugs, hedgehogs have fleas, let me write a poem about it. Hedgehogs and nasturtiums are some of the most beautiful things in nature. But then so was Sylvia and look how he treated her.
Mermaid
Call her a fish, Call her a girl. Call her a pearl
Of an oyster fresh On its pearly dish
That the whole sea sips With gurgly slurps And sloppy lips.
I came across this book by searching my library's card catalogue for Raymond Briggs (he being my favorite illustrator (sorry Lane Smith). I knew that Ted Hughes was an author and Sylvia Plath's widower. I had never read anything by him before. I just did not get into this book. I can't explain why. I found myself constantly moving my eyes over the words but not understanding what I had been reading. I went back and re-read. I had to read aloud to get the meter of his poems and sometimes he changed to no meter or rhyme in the middle of a poem. Made me wonder why he's published and I'm not.