I don't remember reading Arnold Lobel's Mouse Soup for the first time. The publication date is 1977, so it has to have been sometime around then. I vaguely remember having it on a record, one of those that *ding* when you have to turn the page.
I do not remember the last time I sat down and read the whole thing through. So probably since the first time in 1977? 1978? 1979?, I read Mouse Soup. It's a perfect book.
The story I remember most vividly from being a little kid reading it was "Bees and the Mud." I remember my little brother and I giggling over it, particularly "We like your ears, we like your nose, we like your whiskers..." It's still funny, but I think it must have been funny then because of the way it was read on the record.
"Two Large Stones" is an amazingly philosophical story, the kind of story that Arnold Lobel tells all the time. It's a sad sort of story too. Is Lobel telling us that if we wait long enough, we'll be happy with where we are at? That the grass is green on both sides of the hill? That birds are liars?
"The Crickets" is delightful, particularly the pictures of the heroine; she looks like a mouse version of Juliet. Next to "Bees in the Mud," this is my favorite, the other one I eventually want to try and read aloud to a group of kids.
"The Thorn Bush" is another one with sort of a philosophical, and also romantic, bent. Again, what is Lobel trying to say here? If "Bees" and "Crickets" are kind of funny but throwaway pieces, "Stones" and "Bush" are, in my opinion, trying to make us think. "Bush" is about the thorns of love, about not jumping to conclusions, about simple solutions, about being different, about aging: "I do not want to sit down," says the old lady. "I have been sitting down all my life. I love my thorn bush. I am crying because it is sick." Eventually, we all find something that makes us stop sitting down, that makes us want to make a difference in the world.
The mouse and soup portions at the beginning and end are delightful. Of course, the first chapter is the story of Scheherazade, in mini-mouse land. Mouse must tell stories to save his life. The end, where the weasel goes to gather stones, mud, crickets, and thorns is pure folktale, all Brer Rabbit and the briar patch.
The world is a cruel place, full of weasels that want to eat you. Stories can save us, as can a little trickery.