Book Review: Onion John
Aug. 30th, 2013 12:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerJoseph Krumgold’s Onion John, which won the Newbery Medal in 1960, is a very Cold War book. Here it is, the height of the Cold War; Nixon is debating with Khrushchev about the relative merits of capitalism and communism while standing in a model kitchen that the US shipped to Moscow (the intended message of the kitchen being “Look at the dishwasher, Muscovite housewives! Look upon it and weep!”).
And Joseph Krumgold is writing a book that basically says, “You guys, the American Way is great and all. But isn’t it great because we choose to live that way? Choices are even better than dishwashers, you guys! Right? Right?”
The story centers around Onion John, who comes from some unspecified place in Eastern Europe but has lived for years on the outskirts of the American town Serenity. Most of the townsfolk can’t understand him, because he mixes up English and his native language when he talks, but nonetheless he makes pocket money doing odd jobs around town.
I have to say, I read this description - the town is called Serenity, you guys, that just screams that something terrible is going to happen - and thought, “Crap, this is going to end with them running Onion John out of town.” It...kind of does? But not at all in the way I expected.
What happens is this: The protagonist, Andy, learns how to talk to Onion John. Eventually Andy and his father, who owns the town hardware store, visit Onion John’s cabin, which has no running water, no electricity, and no heat but for a wood stove.
Andy’s father, who always knows what’s best for everyone - for instance, he knows that Andy wants to be an aeronautical engineer, never mind that Andy is not at all sure about that - gets a bright idea. The people of Serenity can make Onion John their new town charity project! They’ll build him a modern American house with all the amenities!
The whole town loves the idea, and they get together and chip in and have an Onion John Day. Between dawn and dusk they raise a new house for Onion John - and deputize Andy to keep Onion John himself out from underfoot.
Onion John thanks them, but soon accidentally sets the house on fire. He’s like, “Oops! Maybe I can move back to my cabin now?”
Andy’s father is all, “No, it would be a disgrace on our town to let you live in squalor the way you want to!” Onion John realizes that they are not going to leave him alone, and decides to light out for parts unknown.
So the book does sort of end with Onion John being run out of town. But there are no pitchforks involved; rather, they make him feel unwelcome by being nice in an incredibly insensitive manner. It’s quite a complex take on goodness and niceness and the space in between - I was going to say “especially for a children’s book,” but actually I can’t think of many adult books that deal with the issue so thoughtfully.
***
Andy’s father is a profoundly imperfect man: not only does he run roughshod over Onion John in his zeal to do good by him, but he’s so insistent on Andy’s aeronautical future that by the end of the book, Andy attempts to run away with Onion John. Then - and only then, when it is clear beyond all doubt that Andy is serious - does his father listen to Andy’s objections to becoming an engineer.
But, faced with that reality, he really does listen: he accepts that his ambitions are not Andy’s, and he backs off. Is that enough to make him a good father? Maybe, maybe not; it’s ambiguous, and for an adult’s character to be ambiguous really is pretty rare for a children’s book.
And Joseph Krumgold is writing a book that basically says, “You guys, the American Way is great and all. But isn’t it great because we choose to live that way? Choices are even better than dishwashers, you guys! Right? Right?”
The story centers around Onion John, who comes from some unspecified place in Eastern Europe but has lived for years on the outskirts of the American town Serenity. Most of the townsfolk can’t understand him, because he mixes up English and his native language when he talks, but nonetheless he makes pocket money doing odd jobs around town.
I have to say, I read this description - the town is called Serenity, you guys, that just screams that something terrible is going to happen - and thought, “Crap, this is going to end with them running Onion John out of town.” It...kind of does? But not at all in the way I expected.
What happens is this: The protagonist, Andy, learns how to talk to Onion John. Eventually Andy and his father, who owns the town hardware store, visit Onion John’s cabin, which has no running water, no electricity, and no heat but for a wood stove.
Andy’s father, who always knows what’s best for everyone - for instance, he knows that Andy wants to be an aeronautical engineer, never mind that Andy is not at all sure about that - gets a bright idea. The people of Serenity can make Onion John their new town charity project! They’ll build him a modern American house with all the amenities!
The whole town loves the idea, and they get together and chip in and have an Onion John Day. Between dawn and dusk they raise a new house for Onion John - and deputize Andy to keep Onion John himself out from underfoot.
Onion John thanks them, but soon accidentally sets the house on fire. He’s like, “Oops! Maybe I can move back to my cabin now?”
Andy’s father is all, “No, it would be a disgrace on our town to let you live in squalor the way you want to!” Onion John realizes that they are not going to leave him alone, and decides to light out for parts unknown.
So the book does sort of end with Onion John being run out of town. But there are no pitchforks involved; rather, they make him feel unwelcome by being nice in an incredibly insensitive manner. It’s quite a complex take on goodness and niceness and the space in between - I was going to say “especially for a children’s book,” but actually I can’t think of many adult books that deal with the issue so thoughtfully.
***
Andy’s father is a profoundly imperfect man: not only does he run roughshod over Onion John in his zeal to do good by him, but he’s so insistent on Andy’s aeronautical future that by the end of the book, Andy attempts to run away with Onion John. Then - and only then, when it is clear beyond all doubt that Andy is serious - does his father listen to Andy’s objections to becoming an engineer.
But, faced with that reality, he really does listen: he accepts that his ambitions are not Andy’s, and he backs off. Is that enough to make him a good father? Maybe, maybe not; it’s ambiguous, and for an adult’s character to be ambiguous really is pretty rare for a children’s book.
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no subject
Date: 2013-08-30 12:27 pm (UTC)When *that's* the case, maybe the donor nation needs to take a step back and think about why what it's offering is unwanted and what its own motivations for giving are.
--And same in this case. "Well, of course we don't want to see you suffering without electricity and running water!" ---But if it's not suffering? If I like the rhythm of daylight and night, and fetching my water. "But--that's being opposed to progress! That's wasting your time fetching water when, if it was piped to you, you could be using your time for other things!" --Ah, so really, your help springs from discomfort with my choices.
Other stuff figures in to it, of course.
But the reverse is also a problem--looking at a homeless woman and saying "Oh, I'm sure she's living this way because she likes it." And in some situations, a person with more capacity does have to make a decision for a person with less capacity, even against the second person's will--like when a child doesn't want to take medicine to make them get better (I know some would argue with this example, but most wouldn't), or when friends drag a drunk pal out of a bar rather than letting her continue to drink--things like that.
no subject
Date: 2013-08-30 11:48 pm (UTC)Because it is, as you say, not always clear on which side of the divide someone falls. Like the example of friends pulling a drunken pal out of a bar; in my experience, drunk people are incredibly poor at realizing when they need help (or what kind of help they need), and they will protest that sort of thing.
This doesn't really tie into the book, but the example of the drunk person suggests to me another issue: if someone does ask for help, at what point is it appropriate to say, "I'm sorry, I just can't"?
I knew a girl in college, a friend of friends, who had a habit of getting drunk and making everyone take care of her. Eventually my friends just cut ties with her completely.
I've always had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand: What good are friends if they only like you when you're fun? If things go wrong, how much of a burden can you be before they'll think it's fair to drop you?
But at the same time, it really was not fair for her to expect her friends to sacrifice all their weekends to taking care of her.