elfs | Whoa. Heavy.

The struggle between parent and child that is the explicit subject of so many bedtime stories is only implicit here. Indeed, there's no parent on the scene. The story begins with the little rabbit already in bed. It is seven o'clock. A few pages later, according to the blue clock on the mantelpiece and the yellow clock on the bed table, it is seven-twenty. Then it is seven-thirty, then seven-forty. When the "good-nighting" begins, it is not clear who is doing the speaking. The moon is rising, yet the light grows dimmer. The clocks tick on-- seven-fifty, eight o'clock. A parent is bigger than a child, but still a person. He or she can be appealed to, as in "Bedtime for Frances," or even tricked, as in "Good Night, Gorilla." The arrangement here is completely uneven. Time moves forward, and the little bunny doesn't stand a chance. Parent and child are, in this way, brought together, on tragic terms. You don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to die. But we both have to.

So writes Elizabeth Kolbert in a review of Goodnight Moon, for The New Yorker magazine.

[Hat tip to Lance Mannion.]