As a mother, I happen to know firsthand that the likelihood of finagling yourself a prince to ever share air with you, let alone marry you, is beyond reality (and I’m fairly optimistic). I worry about my daughter’s leeching urgency for all things princess in toy stores, bookstores, and while watching commercials. I’ve decided to be supportive of her natural inclinations, even though the whole princess thing is anything but natural. It’s a force that is clubbed over little girls’ heads these days, and truthfully, it’s foreign to me. Growing up, my family was VERY low tech. We had a black & white television that only picked up 3 channels from our rural lakeside residence. My father was a saver not a spender, meaning I didn’t get all the fancy new stuff. So other than fairytales, my life was void of the princess phenomena.

What does any of this doing in a review, you might ask? I should have warned you from the beginning that this might turn into what I’ve termed a “ressay” (the merging of essay with review), but all of this will make sense once I delve into the particulars that draw me to this book.

The story centers around main character, Frances, and her first encounter with The Boys’ Club. It’s about being a true friend and introduces the gender roles that society has already started teaching to Frances. Poor Frances just wants to play baseball with Albert and Harold, but they want nothing to do with her. I relate to Frances. This same thing happened to me all the time growing up, once the two boys on my street figured out I was a girl. Suddenly I was shunned, forced to play with the only other girl on the street who was 4 years my junior, or play alone.

What I like about this book is that the illustrator has created androgynous characters. True, they are raccoons (or bears?) but the girls do not wear frilly dresses. There is no way to tell who is whom from looking—other than Gloria, who is the littlest one. The mother, however, is sporting an apron, but I’ll forgive this horrific image since it was written in 1969.

The author and illustrator were attempting to address gender role conditioning, most of which I’m quite pleased with, although not entirely. The real treat is the humor in the writing. Here’s an example

“Can I wander with you?” asked Frances.

“I only have one lunch,” said Albert.

“I’ll bring my own,” said Frances.

“I’ll run home an get it right away.”

“No,” said Albert. “I think I better go by myself. The things I do on my wandering days aren’t things you can do.”

“Like what?” said Frances.

“Catching snakes,” said Albert. “Throwing stones at telephone poles. A little frog work maybe. Walking on fences. Whistling with grass blades. Looking for crow feathers.”

“I can do all that,” said Frances, “except for the frog work and the snakes.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Albert. “I’d have to ruin the whole day, showing you how. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then Albert went off to wander, and Frances walked slowly home with her bat and ball, singing:

Fat boys that each too much lunch

Can’t do a thing but munch and crunch

And play with snakes and frogs.

Later in the story, Frances decides to picket with Gloria (ERA, anyone?) against the segregated baseball situation. They have planned a much more elaborate “outing” than Albert’s banal “wandering,” that not only incorporates fine food neatly packed in an attractive wicker basket, but thanks to Gloria’s pension for frog catching, they plan for a frog-jumping contest, too. I won’t spoil the story by revealing the outcome because I know—again, firsthand—that parents often enjoy these stories as much as their children, but I will offer that the gender roles are somehow rolled together in a kind of symbiotic fashion, and there are absolutely no dreadful weddings at a castle.

I recommend this one for parents of both sexes.