The Doctor is Out

What I’m about to say might be the most controversial thing I’ve ever written. I expect to get more hate mail than I did that time when I wrote an article for my college newspaper that proclaimed we should round up the homeless and have them all sent to Mexico (I offended Mexicans, homeless sympathizers, and [somehow] PETA all in one article). This time, my words will result in more than a meeting with the dean and an apology in the next issue. I expect my controversial words to alienate two or three readers–which is significant when your audience is in the single digits (I’m just glad I have a big family). But enough with my rambling: just get to it.

I hate Dr. Seuss.

Duck. Dodge. Shield face from tomatoes and cinder blocks.

Yes, it’s true–I hate Dr. Seuss. I’m not sure if that makes me un-American (although, I’m pretty sure he was a Nazi–a name like that has to be German). I know Dr. Seuss has a big following. I understand he is beloved by children and adults alike…and I just don’t get it.

I don’t mean to insult anyone who does like the famous wordsmith, but he simply isn’t for me. His rhymes might be creative, but they’re not enough to sustain my interest. His stories are asinine. I think the artwork is a little creepy. And perhaps most importantly, I am not entertained by any of it. These are not just the observations of a middle-aged adult who is completely removed from his youth (if anything, I refuse to grow up–just ask The Wife). No, no–I say this with all that rationale and sincerity as possible. I don’t like the writings of Dr. Seuss. And you know what else? I don’t think he was a real doctor.

Even as a kid I did not like him. I didn’t get him way back then. Growing up I was a reader. I devoured texts like they were Twix bars. I would spend most of my days reading numerous books–but not Dr. Seuss. When I was six or seven, my class would visit the school library once a week. My peers would fight over who got to check out the Dr. Seuss books, and I didn’t understand what they were fighting about. The stories were lame–a bunch of nonsensical gibberish.

One fish two fish red fish blue fish

Okay, so you got a red fish and blue fish–isn’t there an easier way to say that? That’s one sentence composed of eight words–and half of them are the same word. It didn’t strike me as creative. More like…lazy. Either that or someone with a very limited vocabulary.

It wasn’t just the words that bothered me. I hated the look of Dr. Seuss books. I remember getting annoyed that each page of his books had only a few lines and the rest of the sheet was filled up with absurd, twisted art of people with big grins and weird noses. The artwork in his books presented a world that looked like the product of a bad acid trip. Buildings curved in a manner that would have them tip over in the real world. Bridges looked like they were made of Swiss cheese. Stairs that went nowhere. I simply didn’t get it.

Full disclosure: by that age, I was already reading books on my own–real books. That might have been during my Encyclopedia Brown phase. I had already read “Tom Sawyer” (didn’t understand much of it–but I like the idea of having other people paying me to do my chores). So while my peers were dazzled by the simplicity of Dr. Seuss, I saw it as juvenile and complicatedly chaotic (not that I knew the words “juvenile” or “chaotic” at that age).

I remember watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and getting completely annoyed. How could he fit the whole town’s presents on one sleigh? How can the dog carry all that stuff up a mountain? How come we never get to see them open the presents? Maybe my childish mind was too logical to accept Dr. Seuss.

When I entered adulthood, I decided to reexamine Dr. Seuss. I took an adolescent lit course a few years ago and it reinvigorated my appreciation for books I read as a kid. I spent a whole summer reading nothing but kid’s books. Judy Blume. Beverly Cleary. And yes, even Dr. Seuss. I was able to take a look at Dr. Seuss from a different perspective. An older perspective. A wiser perspective…and I still don’t get it.

All those Nupboards in the Cupboards they’re good fun to have about. But that Nooth gush on my tooth brush…..Him I could do without.

What the fudge is that supposed to mean? If one of my fifth grade students started talking like that, I’d have him tested for drugs, a possible brain tumor, and dyslexia (in that order).

Upon reflection–an older, wiser reflection–I realized Dr. Seuss isn’t for me. Maybe it’s because I’m like more than nonsense out of my authors. I don’t mean to judge. If someone can appreciate nonsense, that’s their business and I’m not going to get in the way. I’m alone on an island when I challenge the “greatness” of Shakespeare; I’m certainly not ready to take on Dr. Seuss. So maybe I should just end this on a Dr. Seuss quote I actually like.

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

Now that I get. And I choose not to like Dr. Seuss.