They say the pity of youth is that it's wasted on the young. Since we're well into our thirties and because we love the stories of Virginia Hamilton we must agree. Before motherhood descended upon us we could curl up in a corner with "Zeely" or "The Planet of Junior Brown" and cry all alone remembering … wishing … hoping about a childhood of our dreams. Now we gather child, dog and gerbils (after we have extracted their promise not to chew the book) around us on the couch, under the quilt, with a big bowl of popcorn and share "M. C. Higgins, the Great." Actually we're proud to share Virginia Hamilton with our family. They should know the good things.

M. C. Higgins is a very nice dude. He's just beginning to recognize girls as different from boys and basically worthy of kissing. But M. C. also has come...