The Books: Jennifer, Hecate, MacBeth, William McKinley and Me, Elizabeth (E.L. Konigsberg)

Daily Book Excerpt: Children’s books:

Next book on the shelf is Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth by the great great E.L. Konigbsburg – who also wrote Mixed-up Files etc etc

I know how much her Mixed-up Files book is loved – I love it too – but this book is wonderful as well – I actually preferred it to the other, when I was a kid. Has anyone else out there read it??

It was the spark. For a good YEAR, I was obsessed with all things witch-y. I wanted to go back in time and live in Salem. I wanted to cast spells. I wanted to BE “Jennifer” in the book – who doesn’t just pretend she’s a witch during her free time. She walks around AS a witch.

By the end of the book – Elizabeth, the main character, who SO looks up to Jennifer – and wants to be just like her – anyway, Elizabeth realizes that all along Jennifer was just pretending, she’s not a witch – she’s just a lonely girl whose parents don’t love her, or her parents are getting divorced – I can’t remember what the plot point is – but all along, Jennifer has been haloed in this kind of mystique. She’s bossy. She knows everything about being a witch. She wears black stockings and black shoes with buckles. She is domineering, serious, and bossy. When she and Elizabeth hang out, they don’t “play”. They do serious witch-stuff. Jennifer is the boss. And in this way, the two become friends. Elizabeth is eager for Jennifer’s approval. She does things to try to get Jennifer to say “Good job!” Jennifer has that kind of imperious-ness. But at the end of the book – ack – something is revealed about Jennifer – we get a tiny glimpse into her world – and it is NOT a pretty picture – and obviously the whole witch thing is her defense mechanism, her way of escape into a fantasy world that she prefers. Her way of being important and different. No, she’s not just a child whose parents are divorcing. She’s a witch!!

But this revelation that Jennifer is actually NOT a witch rocks Elizabeth to her core – and she is furious. She feels betrayed, angry, stupid …

I LOVED this book when I was a kid. First of all, it’s E.L. Konigsburg – so you know it is VERY well-written. It’s funny, it’s deep, the language is not condescending to kids – I remember there were words I had to look up, and I also remember a whole chapter where Jennifer basically analyzes the spells in Macbeth for Elizabeth. Jennifer is not messing around!!

Now – one last thing about this wonderful book (which, if you have a daughter, who is 10, or 11 – I think this would be a great book for her to read!):

The illustrations are great (just like in Mixed-up Files) – and it always struck me as a kid, and it strikes me now: In the illustrations, we can see that Jennifer is black. But it’s never mentioned in the book. I found that to be fascinating when I was a kid – one of those “a-ha” moments in life when I realize: “Oh! It doesn’t matter what skin color anyone is! She’s just Jennifer!” Like – I was so used to there being some explanatory text in the story – you always hear what people LOOK like. But not in this book. You hear about Jennifer’s clothes, you hear about her voice, you get her entire personality – but only in the illustrations do you see her skin color. For some reason, I just love that. It makes the point, loud and clear, that the skin color thing should just be a non-issue.

Here’s an excerpt from the book where Jennifer discusses Macbeth to an enthralled Elizabeth. Remember – these girls are, like, 10 years old. Listen to how bossy and dominating Jennifer is! She completely captivated me when I was a kid. Great character.

From Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth by E.L. Konigbsburg

When we met on Saturdays in March, Jennifer always brought Hilary Ezra with her. Hilary Ezra was our toad. Around New York most people don’t have toads in March or watermelons in January. Jennifer was not most people. She came to the park the first Saturday in March and said, “Today I brought the toad.” She held him out in her hand. He wasn’t very big. For a minute I thought he was the plastic kind that you buy in kits. The kind that are stuck on a cardboard under one big plastic bubble. Sometimes they are glued on a card under separate little plastic bubbles, and the card says “Farmyard Friends”, or “Dinosaurs – Great and Small.” The toad moved. I jumped. Jennifer closed her hand.

“Where did you get him?” I asked.

“Witches always have toads,” she answered. “Toads are the first ingredient.” She paused a second, looked up toward the sky and said, “What’s the matter, didn’t you ever read Macbeth?”

“Well, no,” I said. “I’ve heard about Macbeth.”

“Every modern witch ought to read Macbeth.” Jennifer said. “Those witches cooked up a wonderful brew. Not flying ointment brew. Trouble brew. And the first ingredient to go in was a toad.” Then Jennifer stared at me and recited:

“Round about the cauldron go:
In the poison’d entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty one
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.”

She stared at me the whole time she was reciting.

“Did Macbeth say that?”

“Of course not,” she scolded. “Macbeth wasn’t a witch. The witches say that as they stir their brew of trouble. Notice they boiled the toad first in the pot.”

“What are the witches’ names in Macbeth?” I asked.

“First witch, second witch, third witch,” she answered, “and Hecate, the queen of the witches is in it, too.”

“What kind of trouble was in the pot?” I asked.

“They gave him a warning,” she replied.

I thought a minute and said, “It doesn’t sound mean to warn someone. That doesn’t sound like trouble. Sounds rather nice, as a matter of fact.”

“It wasn’t nice,” Jennifer insisted. “How can you be a witch and be good, too? The two just don’t go together.”

“What did they warn him of?”

“The truth.”

I couldn’t understand what could be so awful about the truth. I had heard grown-ups talk about the awful truth, but I couldn’t understand what they meant. So I asked, “What’s so bad about the truth?”

“They told him the truth in such a way that he got to feeling too sure of himself. He became careless and brought about his doom.”

“What did they tell him?” I asked.

“I won’t tell. You have to read Macbeth. Every modern witch should. Those witches were wonderful.”

“Give me an example,” I begged. “Please?”

“I’ll give you an example of the kind of thing they did.” She thought a long minute before beginning. “Suppose they said to you first, ‘Elizabeth, beware of … beware of the toad. The toad will cause you pain.’ You think to yourself that you like the toad. Besides, you can’t imagine how any toad with no sharp claws and no sharp teeth can cause you pain. But since the witches warned you – you will beware.”

“Yes,” I said. “I would listen. They might mean that I’ll get a wart and need to have it burned off.”

Jennifer nodded. “Next they tell you that no animal born where rain can fall will harm you. Then you think to yourself … toads are always born out of doors in a pond or a lake where rain can fall. So you don’t have to worry much about the toad or about most animals.”

I silently agreed. Then Jennifer continued, “Next they tell you that you’ll have no pain until the home of the toad comes to you. You think … how can a lake or a pond or a park come to me? So after the first warning, which you are perfectly willing to believe, you end up feeling pretty sure of yourself.”

“What’s wrong with feeling pretty sure of yourself?” I asked.

“Pretty sure is okay. But too sure isn’t okay. Imagine being so sure of yourself for a test that you never even open the book.”

“Oh, I’m never that sure.” I was watching the toad and wanting to pet him.

Jennifer was still concentrating on Macbeth. “In Macbeth Hecate says:

‘And you all know, security
Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.'”

“Is man a mortal?” I asked.

“Of course,” Jennifer answered.

“Then, is this Hecate’s way of saying the story of the tortoise and the hare? You know, that fable about the rabbit being so sure of winning the race that he wasn’t even careful. He didn’t try very hard to win.”

“Yes,” Jennifer explained. “Except that they didn’t make Macbeth sure of winning … they made him sure he’d never lose.”

“Never lose what?” I demanded.

“His life,” she croaked. She looked at me hard. I swallowed hard.

“Jennifer,” I asked, “what do you ever do besides read?”

She looked up at the sky and sighed and said very seriously. “I think.” She continued looking up at the sky and added, “Now do you absolutely understand about the witches’ warning?”

“Macbeth’s witches?” I asked.

“Any witches.”

I nodded. For just a minute the idea crossed my mind that Jennifer actually was warning me. Then I thought, “Oh, well, how can a lovely little toad cause me pain?”

“May I hold him?” I asked.

“Of course.” She handed him to me.

“Jennifer, do witches ever name their toads?”

“Never,” she answered.

“I think we should,” I said.

“We shouldn’t,” she said.

“I think we should call him Hilary. Hilary means cheerful. And he is bright-eyed and cheerful.”

“Witches don’t name toads,” she said.

“Yep, Hilary is a fine name.”

“Witches don’t name toads,” she repeated.

“Hilary means cheerful, and you are cheery, dearie,” I murmured. To the toad … not to Jennifer.

“He should be called Ezra if he’s called anything at all,” she replied.

“Why Ezra?” I demanded.

“Because Ezra means help … and he’ll help us make the flying ointment.”

“Hilary is better,” I insisted.

“Ezra,” she said.

“How about Hilary Ezra?” I asked.

“Agreed,” she answered.

I think I grew to love Hilary Ezra from that very second. Naming him was the first argument I ever won from Jennifer.