OFF THE SHELF* Resting on his laureates

Is Jack Prelutsky the Joyce Carol Oates of kidlit?

The standard gripe from my writing instructors and mentors over the years has been that Oates gets published too much and edited too little, thereby stealing valuable shelf space from presumably better but lesser-known authors (such as the aforementioned instructors and mentors).

Without any degree of snarkiness whatsoever -- no, really -- I lob that same grenade at the country's first Children's Poet Laureate, who seems bent on banking his new title rather than burnishing some new verses worthy of it.

I count at least five Prelutsky titles on my shelves with 2007 copyrights: Me I Am, a reprint of an older poem with new illustrations, Good Sports, which I lukewarmly reviewed here, the occasionally funny My Parents Think I'm Sleeping, which I quoted here, the plotless Wizard, and In Aunt Giraffe's Green Garden, which I may review if I can overcome couplet fatigue.

My husband figures the guy's close to retiring and is building his bank account. I'd rather finger our whole branding culture that, sadly, has nothing to do with hot irons and everything to do with the stupifying -- and stupid-making -- effects of mass marketing. Like Roger Sutton in this post, I don't blame Jack for cashing in. And I took careful note of this anti-Prelutsky screed too, which basically asks, Whither Jack?

As far as I can tell -- and I'm certainly not his publicist -- Prelutsky has been criss-crossing the country doing readings, most recently at Chicago's Printer's Row bookfest. His website isn't helpful in this regard; you'd think it'd list his appearances, at least.

My problem is with sheer tonnage. As a beleaguered Andy Warhol once said, "I can't tell what's good anymore." I think I've lost the knack for discerning which of Jack's recent verses aren't stamped from the same ticklish, end-with-a-kick mold; much of it's still good and readable and fun, but he perfected his shtick a while back and damned if he's gonna change now. Like Starbucks decor -- or, really, any franchise -- we learn to expect only comfy variations on a theme.

We're in the midst of a kidlit renaissance, with more titles published than ever. But I wonder how much of the cream rises to the surface. The Prelutsky brand is more like high fructose corn syrup; he's in everything. And you suspect the sugar rush comes rather cheaply and is probably bad for you.

I say this, of course, knowing I could be doocing myself out of a smart freelance gig at the Poetry Foundation, where I've begun editing their children's webpage. For those who don't know, the Children's Poet Laureate is their idea.

There's still much to love about Prelutsky, and much to appreciate in how he's made a career of elevating kids' poetry without aiming over their heads. That's not an easy trick, and his readings are some of the most fun you can have with your kids without getting messy.

But I find myself wanting something more from him, and I want it less.

*Off the Shelf is a new, occasional feature for whenever I have a rant-worthy topic.

Comments

[Jody]

I agree withe everything you say here, especially about Oates.

I picked up one of her books not long ago and was aghast to find completely unreadable sentences on every page.

Shouldn't an author of her stature at least be able to construct a comprehensive sentence? What does her editor DO, anyway?

Ack.

[I solve the Prelutsky problem by owning only one of his books, and leaving it at that. I think the whole branding thing is spot-on as an explanation, too.]

[david e]

As author of the aforementioned screed I'm glad to see I'm not the only one bothered by Mr. Prelutsky's recent published verbosity. I have wanted to find a way to remove our Poet Laureate from the equation -- blaming his agent, or the publishers, or just bad timing for the sheer volume of recent releases. But then I see publishers rushing to get his backlist on the shelves with their shiny new Caldecott-Newbery-esque Poetry Foundation medallions stuck on the front and I don't know who to blame.

The PF can't possibly be making money off of sticker placement (can they?) and so I want to think it's publishers looking to hook the public with a look-alike sticker. But then... where do the publishers get these stickers from in the first place?

Ultimately, the title of laureate merely defines a person of distinction in a particular field. I have (and this may change now) assumed that a part of this distinction included a certain level of recognition by the recipient of both their craft and exposure to those who would benefit from the laureate's recognition.

Jack can still turn this around, but I don't see it happening.

[Literacy Teacher]

So funny that you posted this today. I usually don't love Prelutsky's Poems, but I was in the mood for them today http://mentortexts.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-to-remember-about-children-by-jack.html.

Happy Poetry Friday!

[Anne]

Jody: I'm not an Oates' fan for this reason, though I think it's funny that I'm criticizing Prelutsky for the opposite problem -- sentences that are too formulaic and treacly.

David: Hey, thanks for visiting. From the little I know about stickers, I would have to assume the PF gets paid for them. It's like any other licensed, logo-bearing product. When we did this for the Cybils awards, we set up an account with a sticker manufacturer and then let publishers order what they need. We're supposed to get a percentage, if we ever sell any.

I agree on the idea that Prelutsky is meant to benefit from the additional recognition, and of course that SHOULD translate into better sales. I don't begrudge the guy a decent living. But the commercialism seems to be trumping all other considerations, to my untrained eye.

LT: Thanks! That is a funny coincidence. There are still many of his poems that I love, and that hasn't changed.

[Kelly Fineman]

Yes -- I agree with you completely on all points made in your post and subsequent comments. And as if the ubiquitous Mr. P weren't, well, ubiquitous enough, some of the only other poetry books seeing the light of day with any sort of marketing behind them are from the same camp of rhyming funny poems.

The most original of his books in the past few years was probably If Not for the Cat, which avoids the issue of rhymed couplets by being a collection of haiku. Much, much better than Behold the Bold Umbrellaphent, good sports (bad book!), or Me I Am.