Here and Now Story Book: Two- to seven-year-olds

In Short

This book is a pioneering collection of experimental stories designed for children aged two to seven. Rather than relying on traditional fairy tales or moral fables, the author crafts narratives centered on the immediate, tangible environment of the child—trains, city streets, household routines, and animal observations. By using rhythmic repetition, sensory language, and chronological sequences, the book aims to help children organize their perceptions of reality. Its enduring value lies in its focus on how children actually process the world, prioritizing clarity and "motor enjoyment" over complex, adult-centered plot structures.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book is not a single journey but a developmental progression that mirrors a child’s growing awareness of the world. For the youngest readers—two-year-olds—the "story" is merely the rhythm of daily life: Marni getting dressed or taking a ride. These pieces rely on the simple enumeration of familiar objects and actions, functioning as a bridge between the child’s private internal state and the external world. There is no conflict here, only the joy of recognition and the security of a predictable, patterned routine.

As the target age shifts to three-year-olds, the scope expands slightly to include the classroom setting and the simple social dynamics of a garden or a stable. The stories begin to encourage active participation, inviting the child to contribute their own familiar terms to the narrative. By the age of four and five, the stories grow more ambitious, introducing "moving objects" like engines, grocery carts, and animals. Here, the arc involves cause-and-effect relationships: a cat hunts for a home, a dog encounters a street-cleaning hose, and an engine learns the "knowing song" of how its parts fit together. The prose mimics the mechanical sounds of these machines, turning the narrative into a sensory performance.

By the time the book addresses six- and seven-year-olds, the stories reach a new level of complexity. The characters, such as Boris, begin to move beyond the immediate home and into the broader social fabric of the city. Boris navigates the subway and the elevated train, piecing together the geography of his world. These stories incorporate more organic structures—a clear beginning, middle, and end—that reflect the child’s burgeoning capacity to understand social significance. The collection concludes with grander, more atmospheric pieces, such as a description of a skyscraper’s construction. This final arc moves from the internal, sensory-focused world of the toddler to the external, structural understanding of a young school-age child, showing how individual experiences eventually integrate into a larger, coherent picture of modern urban life.

How It Unfolds

The sensory foundation The earliest stories focus on basic motor activities and the naming of familiar domestic objects. These pieces operate like a string of beads, where each episode is a simple, rhythmic addition to the child’s daily experience.

The shift to association As the child develops, the stories introduce groups of objects related by their physical proximity or use. The narrative begins to incorporate refrains, which function as "blocks" for building memory and language patterns.

The introduction of mechanics The mid-section of the collection focuses on moving objects, such as engines and boats, where the rhythm of the language mimics their operation. The stories emphasize the "why" and "how" of things, moving from mere observation to functional relationships.

The social expansion The final stages follow characters like Boris into the city, linking the home environment to the broader world of industry and transport. The stories here adopt a longer, more organic structure that encompasses the collective effort of society, such as the building of a skyscraper.

The People

The characters in these stories are functional mirrors of the children for whom they were written. Marni, the toddler, represents the very young child who is still "entangled in the here and now." Her world is defined by breakfast, dress-up, and the simple desire for her mother’s attention. She represents the starting point of the book, where the "plot" is just the repetition of a morning routine.

Spot the cat and Pedro the dog serve as the bridge to the four- and five-year-old’s perspective. They are active, curious, and prone to sensory-driven mistakes, such as Pedro getting sprayed by a water hose. They want safety and a home, and they resolve their conflicts through movement and instinct. Their journeys are straightforward, reflecting the child’s need to test the boundaries of their environment.

Boris stands as the representative of the older child. He is observant and capable of making connections between the "underground" world of the subway and the world above the streets. He bridges the gap between his personal feelings—his longing for the grass of his Russian home—and his intellectual curiosity about the city around him. Finally, the Anonymous Carpenter and the Workmen who build the skyscraper represent the collective, social adult world. They are not characters with emotional depth but rather embodiments of process and labor, demonstrating to the child how the world is assembled.

In Its Own Voice

The author prioritizes the rhythm of language, believing that sound play helps children organize their thoughts.

"I bubble up so cool / Into the pebbly pool. / Over the edge I spill / And gallop down the hill!"

This refrain, used in a story about a stream, illustrates the author's method of using sound patterns to explain physical processes.

"The hammer it gives a swinging pound. / The nail it gives a ringing sound. / Bing! bang! bing! bing! / And the boards are tight together!"

This passage shows how the book turns industrial labor into a rhythmic, almost musical experience for the reader.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an argument for an "education of reality." It posits that children are better served by stories that reflect their actual environment than by the "unrealities" of traditional fairy tales, which the author views as potentially confusing or even psychologically damaging for young children. The central theme is the development of the child’s sense of order. By naming, enumerating, and observing the mechanics of the city, the child moves from a state of sensory chaos to one of organized knowledge. The book explores the tension between the need for imaginative play and the need for a grounded, rational understanding of the world, suggesting that true adventure lies in discovering the "knowing songs" of the everyday environment.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the history of education or the evolution of children’s literature will find this book fascinating. It feels like a time capsule of early 20th-century New York, filled with the clatter of trains, the calls of grocery men, and the specific sounds of a pre-digital city. Reading it today is a rhythmic experience; the prose is designed to be read aloud, and its repetitive, percussive quality remains surprisingly effective for engaging a child's ear.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the book's period-specific attitudes. The author’s dismissal of traditional fairy tales as "vicious" or "unsubstantial" may seem overly rigid, and some of the stories reflect an era of industrial optimism that feels dated today. The language is intentionally simple and sometimes repetitive to the point of being monotone, which is a deliberate pedagogical choice rather than a narrative flourish. While it lacks the whimsical character arcs of contemporary children’s fiction, it offers something rare: a sincere attempt to validate the ordinary, noisy, busy life of a child. It is best read not as a collection of bedtime dramas, but as a deliberate, rhythmic exercise in helping a young mind find its footing in a complex, mechanical world.