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Royal baby books: regal or ridiculous? Royal baby books: regal or ridiculous?
(2 months later)
The idea of picture books about the advent of the royal baby made my nails dig into my palms at first. Poor short-changed kids, being read to – poor kid being read about, come to that – and indeed poor Kate, giving birth not just to an heir, but a protagonist several times over. But I still, grudgingly, remember my enjoyment of Diana, the Fairytale Princess, a shiny white 80s hardcover with naïve sweet-shop illustrations which now, alas, look like the set-up for the punchline of a sick joke.The idea of picture books about the advent of the royal baby made my nails dig into my palms at first. Poor short-changed kids, being read to – poor kid being read about, come to that – and indeed poor Kate, giving birth not just to an heir, but a protagonist several times over. But I still, grudgingly, remember my enjoyment of Diana, the Fairytale Princess, a shiny white 80s hardcover with naïve sweet-shop illustrations which now, alas, look like the set-up for the punchline of a sick joke.
In the early 80s, as a child of tender years, I was deeply attached to this revoltingly upbeat commemorative volume, twee guardian fairies notwithstanding. And actually, if I could find it, I would read it again like a shot. It may be sycophantic, gooey fare for parents, but small children – monarchists to the last – will probably enjoy this wealth of books about a baby born to the purple. Just train them to say "Rubbish! What about the workers?" at the end.In the early 80s, as a child of tender years, I was deeply attached to this revoltingly upbeat commemorative volume, twee guardian fairies notwithstanding. And actually, if I could find it, I would read it again like a shot. It may be sycophantic, gooey fare for parents, but small children – monarchists to the last – will probably enjoy this wealth of books about a baby born to the purple. Just train them to say "Rubbish! What about the workers?" at the end.
Closest to my well-thumbed Diana in format is Robin Ink's A Royal Fairytale – slightly ironically, since this is actually the "book of the app". Although I was quite taken with the picture of Rowan Williams in smart brown brogues, conducting the wedding , this was otherwise a rather baldly factual account. Girl goes to university, meets prince, is proposed to "after they had been friends for a very long time" – a sly sideswipe at HRH's dilatoriness? – and produces a baby doesn't really add up to a whole book.Closest to my well-thumbed Diana in format is Robin Ink's A Royal Fairytale – slightly ironically, since this is actually the "book of the app". Although I was quite taken with the picture of Rowan Williams in smart brown brogues, conducting the wedding , this was otherwise a rather baldly factual account. Girl goes to university, meets prince, is proposed to "after they had been friends for a very long time" – a sly sideswipe at HRH's dilatoriness? – and produces a baby doesn't really add up to a whole book.
But I can see that interactivity with sheep, corgis and hot-air balloons would make for an appealing e-read.But I can see that interactivity with sheep, corgis and hot-air balloons would make for an appealing e-read.
Meanwhile, The Royal Baby, by Tony Bradman and Tony Ross, is a manful attempt to meet current frenzied speculation about the contents of the Duchess's hillock head-on, without pandering to it. As the "beautiful princess" and her "handsome prince" (sporting rather too much hippy-length blond hair for a Wills-a-like) celebrate their wedding, everyone begins to ask "When will they have a baby?" Curiosity about the attributes of the impending imperial wean runs fever-high – hirsute, sporty, male, female, both? (twins, rather than hermaphrodite) – but we are enjoined in the end that we'll all have to wait and see. The sense of expectation readers are left with slightly confounds the nice cosy message that all babies are unique. It suggests we're all going to be scrutinising this particular little scrunchface for signs of strength, cleverness and general royalness from the word go. Which is unfortunately quite likely.Meanwhile, The Royal Baby, by Tony Bradman and Tony Ross, is a manful attempt to meet current frenzied speculation about the contents of the Duchess's hillock head-on, without pandering to it. As the "beautiful princess" and her "handsome prince" (sporting rather too much hippy-length blond hair for a Wills-a-like) celebrate their wedding, everyone begins to ask "When will they have a baby?" Curiosity about the attributes of the impending imperial wean runs fever-high – hirsute, sporty, male, female, both? (twins, rather than hermaphrodite) – but we are enjoined in the end that we'll all have to wait and see. The sense of expectation readers are left with slightly confounds the nice cosy message that all babies are unique. It suggests we're all going to be scrutinising this particular little scrunchface for signs of strength, cleverness and general royalness from the word go. Which is unfortunately quite likely.
The Royal Nappy , on the other hand, is focused on the business end of the puissant infant, as you might expect from the chap who brought you The Queen's Knickers and Cinderella's Bum. Who knew the banking crisis was actually caused by an error in the Royal Mint, which mistakenly pumped out £-emblazoned Pampers instead of paper money? Poo is always good for a chuckle (or, in the case of my daughter, a terrifying roar of maniacal laughter), and I liked the idea of Henry VIII's youthful fondness for meat pies giving rise to a special song, handed down from royal nanny to royal nanny, to greet all-too-frequent princely egestions. In a similar vein, Shhh! Don't Wake the Royal Baby focuses on the unusual methods Elizabeth and co might use to get an unsleeping infant to nod off (think helicopter rides and a parachute jaunt attached to granny). Ada Grey's illustrations adeptly render shiny-haired Duchess, owl-goggled Queen and even the royal auntie, catering the welcome party and bellowing for "More blinis!", although Prince Philip has been elevated to kingly status and given an astonishingly shaggy pair of eyebrows.The Royal Nappy , on the other hand, is focused on the business end of the puissant infant, as you might expect from the chap who brought you The Queen's Knickers and Cinderella's Bum. Who knew the banking crisis was actually caused by an error in the Royal Mint, which mistakenly pumped out £-emblazoned Pampers instead of paper money? Poo is always good for a chuckle (or, in the case of my daughter, a terrifying roar of maniacal laughter), and I liked the idea of Henry VIII's youthful fondness for meat pies giving rise to a special song, handed down from royal nanny to royal nanny, to greet all-too-frequent princely egestions. In a similar vein, Shhh! Don't Wake the Royal Baby focuses on the unusual methods Elizabeth and co might use to get an unsleeping infant to nod off (think helicopter rides and a parachute jaunt attached to granny). Ada Grey's illustrations adeptly render shiny-haired Duchess, owl-goggled Queen and even the royal auntie, catering the welcome party and bellowing for "More blinis!", although Prince Philip has been elevated to kingly status and given an astonishingly shaggy pair of eyebrows.
My out and out favourite, though, is Baggy Brown and the Royal Baby by Mick Inkpen, an extremely savvy re-issue, with new cover and tweaked title, of 2007's Baggy Brown.My out and out favourite, though, is Baggy Brown and the Royal Baby by Mick Inkpen, an extremely savvy re-issue, with new cover and tweaked title, of 2007's Baggy Brown.
Rather than the baby, the splendidly-named Princess Sophinyinianna of Thingland, this book focuses on the first of a limited-edition run of Royal Bears, who undergoes a SuperTed series of misfortunes in the bowels of the teddy-making machine and is taken home to a factory-worker's little son.Rather than the baby, the splendidly-named Princess Sophinyinianna of Thingland, this book focuses on the first of a limited-edition run of Royal Bears, who undergoes a SuperTed series of misfortunes in the bowels of the teddy-making machine and is taken home to a factory-worker's little son.
Alfie's journey to return Number One, aka Baggy Brown, to his regal owner is atmospheric and tender, and with the help of the fabulous Lady Jane Farque-Hurrah, who has "five children of her own and knew exactly when a child was telling the truth", there are happy endings all round. I would be happy to read this one over and over again – though I'm willing to bet the favoured bedtime read will wind up being The Royal Nappy.Alfie's journey to return Number One, aka Baggy Brown, to his regal owner is atmospheric and tender, and with the help of the fabulous Lady Jane Farque-Hurrah, who has "five children of her own and knew exactly when a child was telling the truth", there are happy endings all round. I would be happy to read this one over and over again – though I'm willing to bet the favoured bedtime read will wind up being The Royal Nappy.
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