Review: Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner, by A.A. Milne

At the time of this writing, I am twenty-eight years old. People tell me I come off as intelligent, opinionated, cynical and sarcastic, with a dark and very adult sense of humor. I don't much like children and don't plan to have any of my own. My childhood, while not particularly awful, is nothing I look back on with nostalgia - mostly I'm pretty glad to have gotten to the point where I'm allowed my own life. Generally, my literary tastes run far closer to Patrick Suskind or Neil Gaiman than Milne.

I tell you all this because I want the next statement to have its full impact.

The ending of The House At Pooh Corner made me cry like a baby.

I know there's a lot of cultural pressure, especially among my demographic, to declare childhood classics like this 'saccharine' and 'condescending'; and, in all fairness, there are some supposedly-classic titles that are indeed worthy of such terms. But I personally didn't find Milne's stories at all saccharine. Rather, I thought them beautifully multilayered, full of observations on the nature of humanity and friendship, as well as being entertaining little tales in their own right.

Most importantly, I think they finally illustrated to me what people mean when they talk about 'lost innocence of childhood'. Not that children are pure or good or even particularly innocent (far from it), but more a particular way of looking at the world, where our imaginary friends can be just as important as our real ones, and where the long lazy days stretch out before us like an endless river of sun-dappled adventures; the days when we really don't know what each new day might bring, but that's all right, because it's certain to be new and fascinating.

Your mileage may, of course, vary. If these tales don't speak to you, that's fine. Perhaps you truly do find them saccharine and condescending. Perhaps you never had that sense of childhood wonder. Perhaps I'm just delusional.

Or perhaps you're simply not old enough for them yet. A++ with cherries on top

Review: Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner, by A.A. Milne

At the time of this writing, I am twenty-eight years old. People tell me I come off as intelligent, opinionated, cynical and sarcastic, with a dark and very adult sense of humor. I don't much like children and don't plan to have any of my own. My childhood, while not particularly awful, is nothing I look back on with nostalgia - mostly I'm pretty glad to have gotten to the point where I'm allowed my own life. Generally, my literary tastes run far closer to Patrick Suskind or Neil Gaiman than Milne.

I tell you all this because I want the next statement to have its full impact.

The ending of The House At Pooh Corner made me cry like a baby.

I know there's a lot of cultural pressure, especially among my demographic, to declare childhood classics like this 'saccharine' and 'condescending'; and, in all fairness, there are some supposedly-classic titles that are indeed worthy of such terms. But I personally didn't find Milne's stories at all saccharine. Rather, I thought them beautifully multilayered, full of observations on the nature of humanity and friendship, as well as being entertaining little tales in their own right.

Most importantly, I think they finally illustrated to me what people mean when they talk about 'lost innocence of childhood'. Not that children are pure or good or even particularly innocent (far from it), but more a particular way of looking at the world, where our imaginary friends can be just as important as our real ones, and where the long lazy days stretch out before us like an endless river of sun-dappled adventures; the days when we really don't know what each new day might bring, but that's all right, because it's certain to be new and fascinating.

Your mileage may, of course, vary. If these tales don't speak to you, that's fine. Perhaps you truly do find them saccharine and condescending. Perhaps you never had that sense of childhood wonder. Perhaps I'm just delusional.

Or perhaps you're simply not old enough for them yet. A++ with cherries on top