My first son was born in early June. As terrifying as it may be to have a premature baby in an outbreak of police violence amid a pandemic, it has been made worse by Pout fish. I don’t know which of my mom’s friends (presumably) bought us this book at the baby shower. I’m also not sure who let this atrocity get published in the first place.
Yet now it haunts me.
The principle is simple: Mr. Fish is one of those frowning-looking fish. So he swims around singing this impending rhyme:
I’m a pouty fish
With a sulky face
So I spread the dreary weariness
All over
It is this refrain that will not leave my head. I think about it every time my kid cries, or even just when I look at his default wrinkled brow expression (he’s still figuring out how to smile).
And that infuriates me, because it reminds me of the rest of the book. This follows Mr. Fish as the guilt of the other fish and makes him ashamed of frowning all the time. They tell him to smile, stop being so sad! But it’s not his fault he’s a Pout-Pout Fish.
I read this to my child while he was still in the NICU. It was the closest book, so I just grabbed it. I thought “Oh, I know where it’s going – it’s going to be a beautifully progressive story about normalizing mental health! Something is going to happen, and the pouting fish is going to realize. it’s normal to be sad sometimes and the other fish will eventually accept that depression is normal, and that would be a really good lesson for a kid who is probably going to inherit at least some of my weird brain things! “
But I was wrong. The twist happens when a puckered fish appears out of nowhere, kiss the pout fish, then swims away. Suddenly, the pout fish realizes: “I’m not pouting actually, I’m to frown !“
And then he starts swimming around the ocean, non-consensually kissing all the fish that had ever made him ashamed of having suffered from depression.
I don’t know what lesson to take from this book by the way, “Depression is bad, but you can cure it by kissing whoever you want.”
Even worse, there are more Pout-Pout Fish books! Twelve, in fact! Where else can this story go, now that the Pout-Pout fish has solved his mental health issues by coming to terms with sexual assault? The answer, apparently, is Trick-or-Treating. Then Easter. Then Hanukkah. Guess it’s good that he comes from a mixed religious background?
But that doesn’t change the premise, or the terrible takeaway, or the fact that this repeated chorus is still lodged in my brain:
I’m a pouty fish
With a sulky face
So I spread the dreary weariness
All over
Please recommend me some children’s books that will help erase the stench of Pout-Pout fish.