Over on Looking at Picture Books, Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen are talking about legendary children’s book editor Ursula “Good Books for Bad Children” Nordstrom.

Something I’ve thought and spoken about is this idea of what artifacts will remain from the current age of children’s book publishing and what will those artifacts look like? Will the Jerrold Connors fellow of 2099 dig into future library archives and peruse printouts of emails and scroll through saved screenshots of text messages? Can that type of media hold any provenance?

I like writing letters, I think I write them well. I wrapped up JIM! with an email letter of appreciation to my editor and art director that might be worth archiving. It’s heartfelt and lovely, if I may say so myself. Still, I’m kind of wishing I had typed it up on my old 1949 Royal KMG. A gift to you, future fellow.

Mac and Jon’s post also made me think about the old Letters of Note website (still available via the Wayback Machine). Which, if I remember correctly, is where I first saw the letter from editor Bob Gottlieb to Roald Dahl, calling him out for being a bully and a jerk.

Dear Roald,

This is not in response to the specifics of your last several letters to me and my colleagues, but a general response to everything we’ve heard from you in the past year or two.

In brief, and as unemotionally as I can state it: since the time when you decided that Bob Bernstein, I and the rest of us had dealt badly with you over your contract, you have behaved to us in a way I can honestly say is unmatched in my experience for overbearingness and utter lack of civility. Lately you’ve began addressing others here—who are less well placed to answer you back—with the same degree of abusiveness. For a while I put your behavior down to the physical pain you were in and so managed to excuse it. Now I’ve come to believe that you’re just enjoying a prolonged tantrum and are bullying us.

Your threat to leave Knopf after this current contract is fulfilled leaves us far from intimidated. Harrison, Bernstein and I will be sorry to see you depart, for business reasons, but these are not strong enough to make us put up with your manner to us any longer. I’ve worked hard for you editorially but had already decided to stop doing so; indeed, you’ve managed to make the entire experience of publishing you unappealing for all of us—counterproductive behavior, I would have thought.

To be perfectly clear, let me reverse your threat: unless you start acting civilly to us, there is no possibility of our agreeing to continue to publish you. Nor will I—or any of us—answer any future letter that we consider to be as rude as those we’ve been receiving.

Regretfully,

BG

I wonder if there’s an email out there from She Who Shall Not Be Named’s editor telling her to stop being such a jag and to stop picking on trans people. Doubt it. Courage and integrity, like typewritten letters, seem to be a thing of the past.

My friend, writer Jess Yoon, posted this to Instagram yesterday.

Jess’ son is a whip-smart critic and despite the fact that I’ve been on the receiving end of one of his stinging appraisals, and that Jess herself is an excellent writer and good friend, I didn’t commiserate with her over this brutal take down of her Richard Scarry reading. Instead I replied to Jess’ post with a sassy “That’s not what’s funny about this page!”

My comment was, like most my comments, off the cuff but I know myself well enough to know that even my most random comments are based somewhere in truth. Thus, there must be a part of this scene (the climax of Richard Scarry’s automobile epic Cars and Trucks and Things That Go) that is funnier than all the others. Take a moment to appreciate this illustration, it is a Busytown tour de force. It’s simultaneously chaotic and perfectly balanced. It’s frenetic, but not frantic. And it’s funny.

I’ll tell you now that I’m not going to do one of those “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts” cop-outs. We’re digging in and finding what single element is funniest part of this picture. I’ve narrowed it down to a few key pieces. Let’s start with:

PIG VERSUS SYRUP

Near the center top of the pile-up we have a pig valiantly trying to re-cork his maple syrup tanker. The expression on the pig’s face is perfect and I like that he’s pushing with his hands and feet. Still, I think it would be funnier if he was jumping up and down. And the maple syrup itself looks to have the viscosity of molasses so that’s making me think the pig should be covered in the stuff. Also, what if the characters in the car beneath were holding out a stack of pancakes? Too many missed opportunities. 4/10

WE ARE THE EGGMEN, GOO GOO GA JOOB

It’s easy to take Scarry’s words for granted but the phrase “egg men” is wonderfully delightful. It’s fun to think about delivery people dropping off eggs by the dozen at doors around town, but we’re snapped out of that reverie by the text which veers swiftly into seatbelt safety. 5/10

CAUTION: FALLING TOMATO

This gag of the motorcycle cop being worried about a single tomato falling on his head when there is a multi-vehicle pile-up just a few feet ahead of him is very funny. It’s subtle, though, and I have to admit the only traffic enforcement personality I’m invested is Officer Flossie. 6/10

YES, WE HAVE NO BANANAS

Jess was right to center on a fountain of food being the foremost farce, but she might have focused on this banana geyser. Bananas are always funny and you can say the word in any number of funny ways. This element could have ranked higher, but its placement on the far left lets it get overshadowed by the rest of the scene. And I’m realizing now that if the falling tomato on the far right was a BANANA… hoo boy, this could’ve been the funniest gag on the page. As it is… 7/10

WE’RE GOING TO NEED A BIGGER TRUCK

Mistress Mouse has the perfect reaction to the scale of this accident. You pair this with the “It will probably take her a MILLION YEARS to fix everything” line at the top of the page and you have a solid 8/10.

WE’RE GOING TO NEED A BIGGER BAND-AID

Look at the size of that band-aid! 8.5/10

FLOSSIE TAKES FLIGHT

Flossie’s pursuit of Dingo Dog throughout this book has been consistently funny and her doing an Evel Knievel leap over this mountain of smashed trucks is exactly the climax this story deserves. Flossie’s expression (not to mention her hat) remains surprisingly impassive which is the joke, but I feel like wouldn’t have minded seeing a bit more fire in her eyes. That moment’s saved, rightfully, for the last page when Flossie finally catches up with Dingo but that sacrifice leaves this at 9/10.

Which brings us to…

…

The fact that I was just made aware I missed the joke entirely. You see, I was scrolling with the sound off and completely missed the audio Jess had added to her story.

Jess yelling “MUSTARRRRRRRD!” is a good 10/10 but her kids’ lukewarm reaction to it is an 11. My cluelessness and the fact that I wrote a whole dang post about this when I’m actually on deadline? Tragic. It’s not the slightest bit funny.

SMDH.