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Tag: Dr. Seuss

Missing From the List: Dr. Seuss’s Children’s Books

Good morning class.

The 50-books list has a handful of options marketed for children: i.e.,  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the Harry Potter series. But I think it’s strange that there isn’t a single entry on the list by Dr. Seuss—a man whose work is synonymous with children’s literature.

Dr. Seuss’ picture books cover a wide range of topics marketed for all ages. In his quirky, made-up-rhymes, overused-exclamation-points way, he tackles environmentalism, prejudice, and politics alongside boredom, bullying, and loneliness, and it’s never dull. So I officially declare that at least one of Dr. Seuss’ works should be one of the 50 books you read before you die.

I’m too weak to claim one is better than the rest, so I chose my top 5!


1. Horton Hears a Who!

Statue of Thodor Seuss Geisel and his “Cat in the Hat” character.

Symbolically, the politics in this story are about involvement vs. isolationism—what happens when those with power intervene to help those without. Written in the 1950’s, this could easily be about WWII or the American-Korean conflict, criticizing Americans who wanted to stay out of international issues. Dr. Seuss rarely shied away from such controversial topics, even when writing for kids.

But even if that was Dr. Seuss’ intention, the messages for kids are more wholesome: all people are equal, even if they don’t have the power to say so; stick to your true beliefs, even if others make fun of you or hurt you for them; and every voice counts in times of trouble, so don’t be afraid to stand with others. This book is inspiring, and an emotional rollercoaster. Of course there’s a happy ending, but that doesn’t make it less stressful when the town of Whoville is moments away from being destroyed toward the end—I get chills reading it every time.

2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

I think it’s a stroke of genius from Dr. Seuss that the Grinch hates Christmas simply for the sake of hating Christmas. He hates the noise and the feasting and the singing—there’s no explanation, just that he hates it from the bottom of his too-small heart. It makes him instantly unlikable and easy to transform by the end.

And by the end, the message is clear—Christmas is more than decorations and gifts. Dr. Seuss doesn’t say what Christmas is beyond that, because that’s enough. Christmas may look flashy and bright, but what it actually is—the love and joy and peace-on-Earth that it stands for—is beyond words. Not many Christmas stories can relay that message well, and this is one of the few.

3. The Lorax

I tend to forget that “The Lorax” has a happy ending, because the death and decay caused by the greedy Once-ler’s business fills up so much of the story, and packs such a powerful punch, that the end just can’t match. Watching the bright and colorful land of the Lorax darken page by page, and seeing the devastating results of a rampaging business, has stuck with me more than the final scene, where the remorseful Once-ler passes a final Truffula seed to a stranger, who may be able to bring the forest back.

The environmental message is painful and foreboding (particularly, the whack of the final tree cut down and the Lorax’s final trace in his land, the word “UNLESS,” are both emotional battering rams). It’s a sad story, even with the happy ending, and most writers wouldn’t dare write such a story targeted at children—though the message probably means more to adults anyway, as they read this story to their children, their eyes forced open to the injustice toward the Earth. Because of this, I think “The Lorax” says more about Dr. Seuss than most of his books.

Author and Illustrator Theodor Seuss Geisel

4. The Sneetches

This is one of Dr. Seuss’s underrated masterpieces—I’ve only met a handful of people that recognize it. But I grew up with “The Sneetches,” and it’s themes of prejudice, greed, and classism are with me to this day.

The Sneetches are a divided people, the privileged identified by stars on their bellies, and the rest with no “stars upon thars.” Then along comes Sylvester McMonkey McBean with his star-adding machine, which can put stars on the Sneetches bellies and give them the world they could never have—all for three dollars each. But then, all the Sneetches are equal, which doesn’t sit well with the Sneetches born with their stars. So they go through McBean’s star-off machine, upsetting the rest of the Sneetches . . . well, chaos ensues.

The Sneetches learn their lesson, of course—a Sneetch is a Sneetch, star or no. It’s one of those lessons that people are still working on, and the Sneetches are a good model to study.

5. Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

In a previous post, I talked about this book as particularly special to me—like all of Dr. Seuss’ books, it has a way of speaking to the soul. It doesn’t have a big story or political message, but it’s full of hope and inspiration. Dr. Seuss tells the reader directly what they will face, both the good and the bad, as they grow up and move out into the wide weird world.

“Oh, the Places You’ll Go” doesn’t shy away from the pain, fear, and loneliness the world can cause (even if it’s in Dr. Seuss’ quirky way, it still means a lot). Coupled with the determination, success, and wonder the reader will meet, the good and the bad balance each other out, and make the message more meaningful. But it scales back at the end—the glamour and glory of all these possible new places boils down to an almost-blank page, leaving it to the reader to imagine what’s next. It’s a very hopeful message.


Even with these 5 favorites, I still feel like I’m missing several of Dr. Seuss’ greatest works—I probably forgot a few. Tell me your favorite Dr. Seuss picture book in the comments!

Next week, I’ll be writing about The Great Gatsby, so be prepared to discuss. It’s probably the easiest and most comfortable literature I’ve ever read, but it’s also one of the most layered and complex stories I’ve ever come across. But more on that next time.

Have a good week!

Prof. Jeffrey

Off-Topic: Novels I’m Thankful For

Happy Thanksgiving, class! In theme with the holidays, I have created a list of the novels I am most thankful for. This time, students, it’s personal.

To clarify: I’m not listing the best novels, or even my favorite novels. These are simply novels that have changed my life. If it made me who I am today, it qualifies. I’m also including works that are kind of novels, but I’m excluding anything that clearly is not a novel. Hamlet and The Bible are on the “50-Books” list, but neither of them are novels, so they aren’t here.


Here’s the list, in unbiased alphabetical order:

  • The Boxcar Children Series by Gertrude Chandler Warner

These are the first books I remember reading. Warner’s kid-friendly mysteries involved four siblings, always dealing with personal struggles, but always outsmarting their own situations by working together. The Boxcar Children started me on a path of reading with desperation—to find out how it ends, to solve the mystery, to discover the twist. It was also a series that I started reading with my mom and older sister, so it tends to bring emotional roots to the surface. Eventually, though, I started reading ahead of them. They were going too slow.

  • Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

On the opposite end of the spectrum is a profound and challenging kind-of-novel. Citizen is a lyrical portrayal of the kind of racism the modern American experiences. With hodgepodged prose-poetry and powerful pictures, Rankine describes American citizenship in the context of the racism that still plagues our country. I put it on this list because nothing has helped me understand modern racism and white privilege more completely, as well as the distance we have yet to travel as a society in order to achieve equality.

  • The Harry Potter Series by J. K. Rowling

Sometimes, I use this series to define me, as well as the generation I’m a part of. The Boxcar Children taught me to read desperately, and the first time I read these books, I missed the subtleties as I flew through each chapter. The Harry Potter movies revealed what I had missed, and then the books showed me what the movies had missed—Harry Potter taught me the value of rereading, so much so that I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read each book. It’s also just plain awesome.

Read my previous post on Harry Potter to learn more!

  • Oh, The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss

Surprisingly, this book had more meaning as I grew up. As a child, I don’t remember reading it, but I picked it up again for a strange assignment in college (I’ll spare you the gory details). But suddenly, with my career choices ahead of me and my future in question, this book made all kinds of sense. Dr. Seuss’ works have a way of speaking to the soul, bypassing the mental challenge of reading entirely. Though I could have chosen any of his other soul-speaking works, this one gave me the best advice, and I’m particularly grateful for that.

  • A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

This is one of those novels that isn’t really my favorite. I like it, certainly, but it took me two tries to really get into it. My first try reading this novel was a catastrophic nightmare (again, I’ll spare you the gory details), but when I read it again, there was a moment that sticks with me to this day. I was speaking to my dad about parts of the novel that impressed me, and about the characters, and the symbolism, and this cool part over here and that cool part over there…when he stopped me and asked if I had ever considered being a teacher.

That conversation changed my life. On one hand, it gave me the inspiration to discover the passion and empathy I have with children, and the beauty in that incredibly important job. On the other hand, it has caused me more strife, anguish, and panic than I have ever experienced. As odd as it seems, I am thankful for both the good and the bad that came of it.

  • Ulysses by James Joyce

I’ll be saving most of my Ulysses discussion for the blog post dedicated to it, way off somewhere in the future, but it would be a disservice not to mention it. Everything I’ve read since reading Ulysses feels different. My own writing feels different. Ulysses taught me to see differently, to question even the most fundamental truths, and to understand the everyday human experience as an epic journey out into the world and back again. I finished it almost a year ago now, and I still fell a swell of awe and beauty remembering the heroes of Joyce’s Dublin.

  • Wicked by Gregory MaGuire

My last selection is a complicated choice, but I ultimately chose it for the same reason Harry Potter impacted me. Harry Potter grew up, and the series grew up with him, and I grew up with the series. Wicked did something similar—it took a story I knew and made it more adult (by that, of course I mean it was more chaotic, more complicated, and less censored than the original). Excluding classroom literature assignments, I think this is the first truly “adult” book I ever read. It entered me into a world I didn’t really like, but couldn’t look away from either, and it’s deliberate non-structure, harsh political themes, and challenging ideas about evil strained my previously held notions.


You knew this question was coming—what books are you thankful for? Let me know in the comments.

I won’t be able to post next week—class is officially cancelled (and I LOVE that I have the power to do that). For the month of November, I have been participating in NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. If you’ve heard of it or tried it, you’ll know the immense joy and suffering I am experiencing during the month of November. It just so happens that the last day of the month is on a Wednesday, when I would usually have my blog post ready to go. I will instead dedicate the last week of November to my own fantasy fiction.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving and your November!

Prof. Jeffrey