Because of Winn-Dixie, Kate DiCamillo, and related thoughts

At the last minute, someone gave us free tickets to see the premiere of "Because of Winn-Dixie" at the Heartland Film Festival a couple of years ago. At the time I'd not heard of the movie or the book, but I figured the kids would love a heartwarming story involving a dog; so, I snatched up those tickets with a big "thank-you" and zipped over to Barnes and Noble to find a copy of Kate DiCamillos' book.

The book was short. I flipped through the pages and thought, "We could read this in a day." So we started reading it out loud as soon as we left the bookstore and climbed into the van to drive home. We read it while I slapped together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, while munching chips and carrot sticks, passing the book around as each person finished eating. We kept reading as we drove down Meridian Street toward the State Museum, where the film would be shown. We actually read it (softly) in line while waiting to take our seats.

We leaned in toward each other on the cushiony red theater seats and read the last few pages. The lights dimmed as I read the very last line and closed the book.

Then we sat back and watched the movie.

Have you ever done that? Finished the book moments before watching the film version?

It's a little weird. And a little wonderful.

And of course, the book is better than the movie.

Now, I'm biased, loving books as I do. But I have some arguments for why I think it's true.

** Spoiler Alert!! If you haven't yet seen the movie or read the book, continue at risk of a let-down **

The pivotal scene in the book occurs when Opal's father finally breaks down and weeps, grieving the enormous loss in his life. While that scene was well-acted by Jeff Daniels, it didn't compare to the scene when we read it aloud. While reading, I had one of those gulping-back-the-lump moments in the car. It was powerful.

In the film, I sensed that the director was torn, that in the movie he wanted that scene to be equally powerful as it was in the book, but he also wanted to save the moment-of-all-moments for the very end, when they found Winn-Dixie and partied with their friends. Those decisions somehow minimized the enormity of the dad's change and didn't leave me gulping back any lumps. It was less complex.

Another disappointing change was that the moviemakers added comic relief in a Barney Fife-type bumbling small town sheriff, who didn't even exist in the book. In one scene, Winn-Dixie jumps up and pulls down his pants, revealing silky boxers with something unexpected all over it, like hearts. Ha. Ha. Goofy sheriff with his specialty boxers showing.

In a later scene--often shown in previews--Winn-Dixie eats a cannister of candies, and when Opal interrogates him, he belches loud and long.

During those scenes, I shook my head slightly, thinking, Oh, brother. The book was so powerful without all of this slapstick. They underestimate the ability for kids to handle deep material and wrote in some crude humor that they think will make kids laugh, but it interrupts the story and doesn't even fit in. My kids were moved by the book. They didn't need all this silliness.

At that moment, I turned to look down the row at my four children. They were, of course, bouncing in their seats and laughing so hard their cheeks were flushed and the third girl was wiping away tears. Oh, yes. We are so sophisticated.

And yes, I really did think those thoughts while sitting in the movie theater. Sometimes I take all the fun out of things by overanalyzing them.

Well, because this post is kind of about Kate DiCamillo, I shall go ahead and inform you that we recently picked up a copy of The Tale of Despereaux, another of her books, which won the Newbery Medal in 2004.

My eldest daughter finished it a few days ago. She walked in the room, set the book down next to my computer and said, "This is great. It's inspiring. You should read it."

Like Because of Winn-Dixie, it was fairly short. So I picked it up and read it, even though it wasn't on the stack on my nightstand.

She was right. It was inspiring. On many levels.

One thing that inspired me as a reader and a writer, was how she can tell such profound and beautiful stories with such economy of words? Both of those books were, as I said, rather short. But she touches on the biggest themes of all times: love, hope, struggle, loss, sacrifice. Never did I feel that she minimized them, overly simplified, or condescended to the reader; nor did she speak over their heads or confuse.

A book with a similar strength is Sarah, Plain and Tall. Like DiCamillo, author Patricia MacLachlan tells a difficult, beautiful story with a simple voice. It lingers. It digs down deep and stays with me.

I want to find all of the books that do that, share them with my children, and treasure them myself.

I'd love to write stories like that.