The child in me

After reading nothing for months, I read two books last night. But before you get all excited and think that I'm some genius speed reader, I should clear something up -- I read two children's books. Two children's books that should not be read by children.

The first was The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories by Tim Burton. Yes, the guy who made his money by being weird. Weird hair, weird wife, weird movies.

This book is a collection of (you guessed it) weird, very short children's stories all with central characters who are outcasts -- Oyster Boy (he's half boy, half oyster), Stain Boy (he's a superhero but his only power is to leave nasty stains on everything), the Boy with Nails in his Eyes (I think this is self-explanatory).

Illustrations (also by Burton) were excellent, I thought. Common theme of "outcast getting to be the lead in his own story" got a little old by the 10th story, but that's the whole point of this book. Growing up I think we've all had the experience of being the odd one out. The thing with me is that I thought it was everyone else with the problem.

The second book was The Daydreamer, by Ian McEwan (the guy who wrote Atonement). In this book we meet Peter Fortune, a 10 year old boy, with knack for daydreaming. The book is actually rather heavy, with themes involving a death of a loved one, killing your parents (or as Peter put it, "making them vanish") and sheer terror. Not very kid friendly, but consistently well written in the "children's story" style (simple words, linear plot, usually has an animal or an animated doll in it). (Aside: for a very precise description of the "children's story" style, read the author's Introduction to the book).