Read Online Moominsummer Madness by Tove Jansson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tove Jansson
Tags: General, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Juvenile Nonfiction, Classics, Action & Adventure, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Nature & the Natural World, Friendship, trolls, Moomins (Fictitious Characters), Children's Literature; Finnish, Forests, Foods, Children's Stories; Finnish, Floods
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Emma.
'What do you mean, blank verse,' asked Moominpappa.
'It should go like this: Ti-dum, ti-umty-um - ti-dumty-um-tum,' explained Emma. 'And you mustn't express yourself so naturally.'
Moominpappa brightened. 'Do you mean: "I tremble not before the Desert King, be he a savage beast or not so savage"?' he asked.
'That's more like it,' said Emma. 'Now go and write it all in blank verse. And remember that in all the good old tragedies most of the people are each other's relatives.'
'But how can they be angry at each other if they're of the same family?' Moominmamma asked cautiously. 'And is there no princess in the play? Can't you put in a happy end? It's so sad when people die.'
'This is a tragedy, dearest,' said Moominpappa. 'And because of that somebody has to die in the end. Preferably all except one of them, and perhaps that one too. Emma's said so.'
'Bags I to die in the end,' said Misabel.
'And can I be the one who fixes her?' asked the Mymble's daughter.
'I thought Moominpappa would write a mystery,'
Whomper said disappointedly. 'Something with a lot of suspects and nasty clues.'
Moominpappa arose pointedly and collected his papers. 'If you don't like my play, then by all means write a better one yourselves,' he remarked.
'Dearest one,' said Moominmamma. 'We think it's wonderful. Don't we?'
'Of course,' everybody said.
'You hear,' said Moominmamma. 'Everybody likes it. If you just change the style and the plot a little. I'll see to it that you're not disturbed, and you can take the whole bowl of candy with you.'
'All right, then,' replied Moominpapa. 'But there must be a lion.'
'Of course there must be a lion, dear,' said Moominmamma.
Moominpappa worked hard. Nobody spoke or moved. As soon as one sheet of paper was filled he read it aloud amid general applause. Moominmamma refilled the bowl at regular intervals. Everybody felt excited and expectant.
Sleep was hard to find that evening for them all.
Emma felt her old legs come to life. She could think of nothing but the dress rehearsal.
CHAPTER 9
About an unhappy daddy
ON the morning of the day Moominpappa wrote his play, and Moomintroll was jailed, Snufkin was awakened by a trickle of rain seeping through the roof of his spruce-twig hut. He looked out in the wet forest, very carefully, because he didn't want to wake up the twenty-four little children.
He looked out on a carpet of white flowers that shone like little stars among glistening green ferns. He wished bitterly that they had all been turnips instead.
'I suppose that's the way fathers think,' he thought. 'What shall I give them to eat today? Little My won't need many beans, but all these others are going to finish off my provisions in no time.'
He turned and glanced at the woodies asleep in the moss.
'And now they'll catch cold from the rain, I expect,' he mumbled bleakly to himself. 'And that won't be the worst. I simply can't invent anything new to amuse them. They don't smoke. My stories scare them. And I can't stand on my head all day, because then I won't get to the Moomin Valley until summer's over. What a blessing it's going to be when Moominmamma takes care of them all!'
'Good old Moomintroll,' Snufkin thought with sudden devotion. 'We'll go for moonlight swims together again, and sit and talk in the cave afterwards...'
At that moment one of the woodies had a bad dream and began to cry. All the others awoke and cried too, out of sympathy.
'Wellwellwell,' said Snufkin, 'hoppityhoppityhop! Tweedledeedledeedledee!'
It had no effect.
'They didn't think you were funny,' Little My explained. 'You must do as my sister does. Tell them that if they don't shut up you're going to whack them silly. Then you ask them to forgive you and give them candy.'
'And does that help?' Snufkin asked.
'No,'said Little My.
Snufkin raised the spruce-twig hut from the ground and threw it into the bushes.
'That's what we do with a house when we've slept in it,' he said.
The woodies fell silent
'What do you mean, blank verse,' asked Moominpappa.
'It should go like this: Ti-dum, ti-umty-um - ti-dumty-um-tum,' explained Emma. 'And you mustn't express yourself so naturally.'
Moominpappa brightened. 'Do you mean: "I tremble not before the Desert King, be he a savage beast or not so savage"?' he asked.
'That's more like it,' said Emma. 'Now go and write it all in blank verse. And remember that in all the good old tragedies most of the people are each other's relatives.'
'But how can they be angry at each other if they're of the same family?' Moominmamma asked cautiously. 'And is there no princess in the play? Can't you put in a happy end? It's so sad when people die.'
'This is a tragedy, dearest,' said Moominpappa. 'And because of that somebody has to die in the end. Preferably all except one of them, and perhaps that one too. Emma's said so.'
'Bags I to die in the end,' said Misabel.
'And can I be the one who fixes her?' asked the Mymble's daughter.
'I thought Moominpappa would write a mystery,'
Whomper said disappointedly. 'Something with a lot of suspects and nasty clues.'
Moominpappa arose pointedly and collected his papers. 'If you don't like my play, then by all means write a better one yourselves,' he remarked.
'Dearest one,' said Moominmamma. 'We think it's wonderful. Don't we?'
'Of course,' everybody said.
'You hear,' said Moominmamma. 'Everybody likes it. If you just change the style and the plot a little. I'll see to it that you're not disturbed, and you can take the whole bowl of candy with you.'
'All right, then,' replied Moominpapa. 'But there must be a lion.'
'Of course there must be a lion, dear,' said Moominmamma.
Moominpappa worked hard. Nobody spoke or moved. As soon as one sheet of paper was filled he read it aloud amid general applause. Moominmamma refilled the bowl at regular intervals. Everybody felt excited and expectant.
Sleep was hard to find that evening for them all.
Emma felt her old legs come to life. She could think of nothing but the dress rehearsal.
CHAPTER 9
About an unhappy daddy
ON the morning of the day Moominpappa wrote his play, and Moomintroll was jailed, Snufkin was awakened by a trickle of rain seeping through the roof of his spruce-twig hut. He looked out in the wet forest, very carefully, because he didn't want to wake up the twenty-four little children.
He looked out on a carpet of white flowers that shone like little stars among glistening green ferns. He wished bitterly that they had all been turnips instead.
'I suppose that's the way fathers think,' he thought. 'What shall I give them to eat today? Little My won't need many beans, but all these others are going to finish off my provisions in no time.'
He turned and glanced at the woodies asleep in the moss.
'And now they'll catch cold from the rain, I expect,' he mumbled bleakly to himself. 'And that won't be the worst. I simply can't invent anything new to amuse them. They don't smoke. My stories scare them. And I can't stand on my head all day, because then I won't get to the Moomin Valley until summer's over. What a blessing it's going to be when Moominmamma takes care of them all!'
'Good old Moomintroll,' Snufkin thought with sudden devotion. 'We'll go for moonlight swims together again, and sit and talk in the cave afterwards...'
At that moment one of the woodies had a bad dream and began to cry. All the others awoke and cried too, out of sympathy.
'Wellwellwell,' said Snufkin, 'hoppityhoppityhop! Tweedledeedledeedledee!'
It had no effect.
'They didn't think you were funny,' Little My explained. 'You must do as my sister does. Tell them that if they don't shut up you're going to whack them silly. Then you ask them to forgive you and give them candy.'
'And does that help?' Snufkin asked.
'No,'said Little My.
Snufkin raised the spruce-twig hut from the ground and threw it into the bushes.
'That's what we do with a house when we've slept in it,' he said.
The woodies fell silent
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