Little Golden Boring

I have fond memories of reading and re-reading my favourite Little Golden Books as a child. I reckon pretty much everyone who grew up in the 80s would remember The Pokey Little Puppy, The Saggy Baggy Elephant and Scuffy the Tugboat.

What I don't recall is how boring some of the stories were. I know kids' books are all about simple language, repetition and easy-to-follow narrative, often with some kind of lesson built in there. I certainly don't expect gripping, page-turning tales but some of the books I've been reading to my son seem a bit skinny on the storyline. And a lot of them seem to end suddenly, like the writer has realised they've spent 10 pages creating a scene then has only one page to wind it up.

Take this book, for example. On page one the lion gets a thorn in his paw (we don't know how, he just does) and poses the question, who will take it out? While it doesn't say so, we assume he can't simply pull it out with his other paw.

The next pages proceed to go through a bunch of animals in the area who can't or won't take the thorn out for one reason or another. They're all pretty lame excuses, by the way, like the gazelle who is too busy prancing about to stop and help a fellow animal in need. And remember, this isn't just any other animal. We're talking about the king of the jungle here, a helluva handy ally for a herbivore at the lower end of the foodchain could have. But I digress.

Then suddenly, we arrive on the final page. The question that's been asked on every single page is posed for the final time: who will take the thorn from the lion's paw? With the answer from a tiny mouse who volunteers "I will!"

The end.

Um, really? Talk about an anticlimax. I was actually embarrassed when I realised this was the end of the story I'd chosen to read my three-month old son.

If we ignore that the picture on the cover gives away the mouse punchline, the story just ends there. No moral to the story is given to reinforce to the kiddywinks about helping others, being brave or small beings with big hearts.

Or... what happened after the mouse removed the thorn. Maybe the lion wasn't so grateful he pledged eternal friendship and protection to the wee rodent, as we adult readers assume but instead in a morbid twist he used his newly healed paw to squash the squeaker. On second thought, perhaps that's why the book ends so abruptly: did a squeamish editor cut the final page in favour of a more palatable albeit dull ending?