I'd quite like to secure for myself a copy of Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson. It was one of my mum's childhood books; both she and the book were published in 1957 and both have withstood the test of time pretty well, I think.
In seriousness, though, and as I think I've mentioned before, the thing about Moominland Midwinter is that it really gave me this sense of wonder as I read it. I suppose it sat well with some kind of not-yet-identified affection for weird and magical things that I'm quite well aware I have these days. Magic and weirdness are amazing things, all in all, and even in my earlier years when I was hyper-sensitive about my red hair and never had confidence in myself as a person who was (and is) allowed to be as I wished myself to be I guess magic and weirdness were already fitting pretty well into my worldview.
The problem is that I'm looking for one edition in particular - one with a light purple-blue cover and the image of Too-ticky (one of the book's characters) sitting upon a bridge over a small stream, and Moomintroll standing on the snow nearby looking up at her. That was the edition I first read when I was perhaps 8, a full 36 years after first publication of the title, and I have sentimental attachment to it. The story itself wouldn't have altered at all, I realise. But, you know, sentimentality.
But you know, I reckon it's that fondness of weirdness and magic that drives me to draw and paint and write these days. I have a set of kids' books that I'd love to actually finish illustrating which focus on magic as a normal part of the world - as in, freeing the mind from the prescriptive and proscriptive ways we're all trained to think and having a sense of wonder. We all tend to take for granted that we know things, and we understand how things are, and that's all there is to them - but that's a very adult way of being, and kids aren't born with that need to categorise and describe and be correct according to observation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that there's anything amiss with being accurate - but striving only for accuracy tends to result in a loss of subjectivity and an inability to enjoy the wonder going on around us.
A good example is the idea of plant neurobiology. For quite a while I've held a fairly alternative perspective that while science is a grand thing and can explain a lot, we shouldn't forget that it should be challenged. Most people would assume that because there are no nerves in plants that plants have no neurobiology to speak of, and sure, if one demands that animal nerves are present for nervous impulses to travel through in order for an organism to qualify as innervated, one might say so. But who says an animal nerve is needed to carry nervous impulses? I've thought on this a fair bit over the past several years and really can't see how a narrow set of criteria is supposed to reflect a broader image of reality. Many scientists (far from all, of course) are challenging the idea that plants have no nervous systems. A key piece of evidence is the alterations in behaviour observed in roots of germinating seeds when the root cap is removed: when it is intact, the root grows and every so often seems to pause and apply pressure to the substrate to assess how appropriate it is to grow into, whereas without the root cap the root is less organised, growing faster but without seeming direction or drive to find good growing conditions. Does this indicate a nervous system akin to a mammals? No, I'd say not - but it does indicate that there are alterations in behaviour that occur when the root cap is injured which may be broadly similar to alterations in behaviour seen in animals whose nervous systems are also compromised. In short, a brain and its constituent nervous system don't necessarily equal the only form of nerve web an organism can have in order to have nervous sensation. Science can't see animal nerves in plants, for sure - but perhaps it needs to broaden its definition of what counts as a nerve, and how signals might be relayed.
In any case, imagination is a great thing, and I think we become a little too focused on describing how things are or must be at times, and this leads us to lose our ability to describe how things might be. I don't necessarily envy children their ability to present a coherent version of the world that doesn't really possess cohesion (the sum of the parts is greater than all of the separate parts put together is maybe a good way to interpret it), because I think understanding the way things are as well as we can is important...but I do think that taking some time to forget how things are and imagine how things might be through art and through storytelling is important as well. Storybooks are really only regarded as childish because they simplify things and propose nonsensical explanations for the world, but who said that nonsense and simplicity has to be childish? Nonsense and simplicity sound fun. Why promote serious adulthood vs. irrational childhood when we could promote fun personhood instead?
And if anyone knows where I can get a copy of Moominland Midwinter with the cover I fairly generally described, it'd be swell if you could let me know!
