Perfection (In a Nutshell) (Thinking of Maurice Sendak)
Perfection (In a Nutshell) (Thinking of Maurice Sendak)
There once was a little girl who had a grandmother who believed in perfection.
There were good things about having a grandmother who believed in perfection. One was a small diamond birthday tiara–it must have been diamond, it shined so bright–with little comb teeth that the grandmother anchored into the girl’s hair just before that magical moment when she brought out the equally glowing cake she had made, its candles flaming as high as the diamond peaks–
And once the grandmother made a clover crown for the little girl when they sat out in the backyard, which was itself magical, for this was not a grandmother who sat in grass much, and this was not your ordinary clover crown–a row of single flowers knotted from spindly stem to blossom–but was woven out of thick bands of flowers, somehow interlocked–
But this grandmother, who knew so very much about crowns, also wanted things neat and straight and right now and once she went into the little girl’s room, and there was one toy on the floor, she told her that it looked like a hurricane had passed through.
And you could never hang wet laundry out on the Grandmother’s line on anything but a Monday.
And beware of cracker crumbs.
And the little girl had to smile nicely and always in clean clothes, knees as closed as a mouth was supposed to be when eating.
Then one day the grandmother gave the girl a little box of littler books; and each book opened to its own separate story about a boy who looked as if he should be named Max, but was sometimes called Johnny or Pierre. The boy had a slightly devilish but also sometimes worried or sad or bored or haughty or gleeful face–and drank soup while ice-skating and involved himself with alligators and had a knowing white-haired dog, but, most importantly of all, frowned.
And, while frowning, he repeatedly told his parents – who looked concerned (but rather helpless)–that he didn’t care. Not that he was pouring syrup on his hair, or sitting backward in his chair, or was here or there, or….anything.
Not only did the boy tell his parents he didn’t care – he also told a lion. Who then ate him briefly.
This was all very interesting to the girl.
And, when her grandmother laughed at the drawn frowning boy–laughed so hard that she slipped slightly in her own chair—it became even more interesting to the girl. Who noticed that somewhere on these pages was a little gold crown.
That looked
as if it had been made
of paper.
Tags: manicddaily, Maurice Sendak prose poem, perfectionist grandmother prose poem, Princess girl reading with Pierre's lion, what to do about crowns
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ManicDDaily 
May 12, 2012 at 6:08 pm
Not only did the boy tell his parents he didn’t care – he also told a lion. Who then ate him briefly.
This was all very interesting to the girl.
Loved this part the most but, of course, all of it was wonderful.
May 12, 2012 at 6:21 pm
You have woven a fascinating tale, and I am not sure if I like the grandmother…or not!
May 12, 2012 at 6:32 pm
You are an excellent story teller…this is imaginative and rich with details of the grandmother’s love for order and crowns, from the little girl’s point of view. Cheers ~
May 12, 2012 at 6:33 pm
Thanks so much, Heaven. k.
May 12, 2012 at 6:33 pm
smiles…laurie wrote on this sendak book too…i vaguely remember it now and i need to look it up…this had a bit of the magic of reading one of this tales…your narator has a nice gentle easy to hear voice as well..smiles.
May 12, 2012 at 6:35 pm
Thanks so much, Brian.
May 13, 2012 at 12:03 am
nice…love how she discovers something in that book that matches her own feelings..that’s what makes much about the magic of many of the books i read during childhood, discovering myself in them.. and really…i would love to have such a clover crown..smiles
May 13, 2012 at 12:42 am
i like how everything here is so nonchalant
when do we stop being a child
May 13, 2012 at 4:32 am
This is prose poetry at its best. A great tale, beautifully told. Enchanting.
May 13, 2012 at 7:33 am
Thanks so much, David.
May 13, 2012 at 5:32 am
Wow! This was truly wondeful whilst also being supremly Sendakian! Thank you!
May 13, 2012 at 7:32 am
Thanks so much, Aaron. I used the picture from cover of Nutshell Library as my model – pretty quickly done–and I’m not an illustrator, but a lot of fun. k.
May 13, 2012 at 6:40 am
This is very charming and lovely. I think all children should have grandmothers who laugh like that! This is a wonderful tribute to your grandmother, as well as Sendak. Those worlds we had as children, though gone they shne still more magical each passing year.
May 13, 2012 at 7:33 am
Thanks. My other grandmother did not believe in perfection, more in unconditional love. This one truly did in her heart – just a bit more blockaded, but she did have a great sense of humor. k.
May 13, 2012 at 7:47 am
A clever tale weaved out from grandma to child. It’s setting up certain principles of perfection that helps mold the future towards being better. Great write, K!
May 13, 2012 at 7:55 am
Thanks so much, Hank.
May 13, 2012 at 7:48 am
A clever tale weaved out from grandma to child. It’s setting up certain principles of perfection that helps mold the future towards being better. Great write, K!
Hank
May 13, 2012 at 8:07 am
Really lovely narrative- and something here about the timelessness of Sendaks work, how it transcended generations- how it appealed to both the child and the adult- and also just about the magical was of discovery through a child’s eyes….so nice to read…enjoyed muchly!
May 13, 2012 at 8:07 am
Sorry- magical was should be magical world- stupid autocorrect
May 13, 2012 at 12:08 pm
So very cool!
May 13, 2012 at 12:40 pm
Thanks so much. k.