You no doubt have a few books from childhood that you remember most fondly. And if you’re a parent now, like I am, you probably wasted no time supplying your child with those same books, right? For me, Leo Lionni’s titles unquestionably occupy the most special place, so much so that I didn’t even have to rush out and buy his books for Thalia because I’d already bought myself some new paperback editions of my two faves several years earlier–like, in my late 20s. I can’t for the life of me remember what triggered me to stop in Borders on State and pick up Alexander and the Wind-up Mouse and Frederick at age 28 or so. But now, as mother to a toddler, I’m getting to enjoy Lionni’s work all over again.

So I was pretty pleased when a press release showed up in my inbox the other day, announcing the celebration of (what would have been) Leo Lionni’s 100th birthday, and in honor of that, a new website celebrating his life’s work. In a bio of Lionni on the site, I read this, about his childhood in Amsterdam:

His room became a miniature zoo and botany laboratory filled with jars containing live insects; aquariums containing minnows, tadpoles, snails, and shrimp; and cages with mice and birds. Best of all were his terrariums where he could create tiny environments for snakes, toads, salamanders, and frogs. In addition to all these live creatures, he had boxes of shells and pebbles and displays of butterflies and beetles, and hanging on strings running the length of the room were leaves, seedpods, feathers, and dried flowers.

Which reminds me quite a bit of my own childhood out in the boonies, up on a hill in middle Tennessee. Terrariums? Check. Box turtles, baby sliders; oh, I brought home many. Butterfly displays? Check. (This, a brief project of my mother’s, woman of many, many nature-based projects.) Snakes? I was brought up with no fear, really. Tadpoles? We had a pond right next to our house–a heart-shaped one that my parents had dug when they bought the house, but I remember being taken to another, smaller pond in the nearby woods to examine tadpoles close up. And so on… My childhood was, in short, one big nature trip, and then there was also Leo Lionni.

But what appeals to me so much about this artist-writer is not so much a celebration of nature for nature’s sake as it is the way he uses small creatures to tell parables that speak so clearly and movingly to the predicaments of the tender human psyche. Lionni’s mice and fish are lonely, jealous, ruminative, insecure; they are full of the foibles of sensitive types. Alexander wants so badly to be something he is not—to be more like his cool buddy, Willy. Frederick is castigated for being a dreamy, artsy type, but ultimately he makes it work for him. The chameleon wants to be a single color, like all the other animals, but eventually finds peace in the friendship of another “oddball”: an older, wiser chameleon. The fish wishes he could get out of his pond and experience the wonders of the world on land, but he learns to appreciate life underwater.

Many good children’s books relay a message or lesson, but it occurs to me that I haven’t come across many contemporary titles that traverse the emotional landscape the way Lionni’s do. (Please, speak up if you have suggestions.) So many children’s books are didactic (learn to go to bed easily! clean up! use your manners!) or purely sentimental (mama loves you) or fantastical, whimsical. None of which is wrong; all of those kinds of books have merit. But I’d like to see more that take on these tricky emotions in a subtle, graceful way (and I should also point out: Lionni’s artwork is very simply beautiful.)

I wonder if Lionni was a product of his time. Were more books with themes like his being published back then? Or does his work really stand alone–or am I just missing the books that are like his?

And I wonder what effect reading lots of Lionni may have had on my own tender young psyche. Am I a sensitive nature-lover, a little to prone to daydreaming a la Frederick, because I read and re-read these beloved stories? Or did they resonate with me so strongly because of something intrinsic to my personality, even as a really little person?

Probably a bit of both. 

So, hey, it just so happens to be the 91st annual Children’s Book Week, as Amazon has duly notified me, and in honor of that and Lionni’s birthday (May 5), do check out some of his work, yes? I’m pretty sure it won’t disappoint.