Madeline and the Brilliant Burst Appendix
Tell me that's not a better title.
My love for the world of author and illustrator Ludwig Bemelmans was rekindled when I saw his character Madeline in a bar. (You already have so many questions, I know!)
During a trip to New York City over a decade ago, my husband and I stopped in to the Carlyle Hotel for the first time to quench our literal and literary thirst at Bemelmans Bar. The bar’s namesake was commissioned in the mid-1940s to fill the walls with painted murals that depicted Central Park in all four seasons, featuring a variety of his signature charming and offbeat characters. This was all in exchange for a year and a half of free rent at the hotel. Pretty, pretty good deal on both sides if you ask me.
Guys, this place is has everything a person-who-is-exactly-me could want. An Old World feel. Those little trays of fancy nuts. Quiet. But also jazz. Original art casually NEXT TO YOUR DRINK. Could I do without the hefty price tag on my martini? Sure, but I try to just think of it as a museum admission fee. Because LOOK.
Since embarrassing memories are the ones that live in your brain forever and always, I recall childishly blurting out after the bartender asked if we wanted to sit at the bar (because we were the only ones there), “No, I want to sit over here next to Madeline.” Despite my piss-poor manners, a great time was had by all, mostly me. I spent the next hour swinging my legs in my seat like an idiot and trying unsuccessfully to prod my husband into quite the same level of unbridled enthusiasm.
Now, I’m a little ashamed to admit this… but while I have been totally enamored with Bemelmans’ art for some time, I didn’t revisit reading his actual books (you know, the words) until years later.
I think you know where this is going... fast forward to my early days of motherhood. Twin babes on my lap. Story. Time.
Madeline was one of the first additions to our girls’ little library and I was excited to read it to them. The art obviously continued to live up to my expectations, but do you know what? The story exceeded them. I think this book might be the one that punched me in the face and threw me onto a moving train to Picture Book Land.
It’s a fun read for everyone, partially due to rhyming text (that actually works) and the opportunity to perform very good French accents. But what really got me was the big climax of the plot, which I’ll crudely summarize as the following:
Madeline’s burst appendix is removed in an emergency surgery. She is very proud of this, and the other children are very jealous.
Man, if that isn’t the most “kid” thing I have ever heard.
I vividly remember feeling this way — do you? Your seven-year-old pal had to have their tonsils removed and you were like, “Wow, that’s so COOOOL.” Or, you were showing off your arm cast on the playground, basking in the warm glow of attention as your classmates scribbled their signatures on your plaster masterpiece. (I curse my parents to this day for not letting me break my limbs.)
These (relatively benign) medical situations all had this undercurrent of danger, but everything was okay now so we could safely feel thrilled by the mere thought of them. A little flirtation with adventure in an otherwise orderly and stable environment.
While my toddlers quickly trotted off to other, sometimes less sophisticated pastures in the reading department, Madeline stuck with me. I wasn’t sure I was qualified to determine what made a good picture book, but I knew THAT was one. I thought about the story an awful lot.
I will not write the next Madeline (that job is already taken up by John Bemelmans Marciano), but I hope to imbue into my stories the same kinds of childhood truths that we can easily forget about as adults. The ones that are sometimes dark, and sometimes don’t make total sense to us anymore, but have not one ounce of irony in them for kids living in that moment. If I can do that, I think I’ll have done a pretty okay job.
By the way, Madeline has probably the best lazy final lines of any book I can think of:
and that’s all there is—
there isn’t any more.
I don’t know how Bemelmans got away with that but I’m glad he did.
Some more picture book stuff I am loving:
The Rabbit hOle, a brand new immersive museum dedicated to children’s literature, opened in March of this year. Suddenly Kansas City is — I can safely say for the first time ever — at the top of my travel bucket list.
Matthew Cordell has been sharing some really fun sketches on Instagram for a David Bowie biography book he’s working on. I had a five-foot Ziggy Stardust poster on the back of my college dorm room door and I am positive it is still rolled up somewhere in my basement acting as a hiding place for spiders (from Mars?!)
There’s not a whole lot of contemporary in-depth analysis (if that’s the right word) of picture books as a serious art form, so I’ve been devouring
’s love letters to children’s literature on Moonbow, which are both well-researched and incredibly thoughtful.I was in New York again this past weekend and checked out the Beatrix Potter: Drawn to Nature exhibition at the Morgan Library, which I might share about as part of the next post. CliffsNotes: it was wonderful.
Until next time! Thanks for reading.
Kelsey
Not to brag....but I broke my arm TWICE in elementary school.
And I really want to go to that bar in NYC!
You had me laughing out loud while reading this—I would have acted exactly the same in Bemelman’s Bar. I mean, it’s Madeline! And I agree, that last line is 👌🏻