Once upon
a Madonna ...
But the more I hear about it, the more I have to wonder: What does Madonna know about enriching young minds? Singing pop songs, yes. Grabbing her crotch, definitely. But she seems to think that just because she has children she can write a children’s book — that’s like assuming you can perform brain surgery because you have a brain. Which is inadvisable.
Not that children’s books couldn’t stand some improvement. A lot of the books I read my kids, although they have very nice drawings of rabbits, read like they were written by someone who doesn’t know how to write, and who may not even have a working knowledge of what a rabbit is. (The moral to most of these stories is: Don’t buy your books for 99 cents at Building 19.)
But I’m wondering if the genre can really be raised a notch by someone whose only previous literary experience consists of standing naked in traffic for the book “Sex.” If that led to good literature I think Saul Bellow would have tried it by now.
I’m sure I’m not the only one having trouble reconciling Madonna’s past work with the idea of her doing a book meant for kids. It’s hard not to picture her writing something like:
Goodnight, moon
Goodnight, cone bra
Goodnight, leather whip used in conjunction with the cone bra
It just doesn’t “sing.” Or what if she channels the spirit of Dr. Seuss?
Would you, could you &%$@! a &%$@!?
Could you, would you &%$@! a &%$@!?
Why yes I &%$@! &%$@! &%$@! &%$@!
To be fair, Madonna’s book, “The English Roses,” sounds like a very nice story about four girls whose fairy godmother teaches them an important lesson after they ignore a less popular girl in school: That if they pose naked in traffic they will become billionaires.
I’m presuming Madonna wrote the book for her own daughter, 7-year-old Lourdes, who, interestingly, Madonna says she keeps shielded from her own adults-only persona. Which should be fairly easy, unless they have TV, a radio, an Internet connection or windows.
But it must be nice that when she couldn’t find books she felt were appropriate for her daughter she was able to just get on the phone and get one published, much like director Spike Lee did recently. Meanwhile, I’m left making up stories out of my head about our dogs who love to nap, after which my daughter asks if we can go back to the rabbit book.
Maybe I’m being too hard on our friend Madonna — perhaps she really does have some things in common with the women who’ve made an impact on children’s literature. For instance, I’m reminded of the 1941 Newbury Medal banquet, when Beatrix Potter planted an open-mouthed smooch on Margaret Wise Brown. She was a saucy one, that Beatrix.
Besides, we all know Madonna doesn’t need the money, so in the end it’s kind of sweet that she’s created a book of her own just to share it with her daughter. In fact, I can picture Lourdes sitting on her lap, leaning on her shoulder and listening intently in one of those classic mother-daughter moments worthy of Norman Rockwell.
As long as Madonna’s careful not to poke her with the cone bra.