It’s not often an elementary book can, not only surprise me, but excite me. Frindle by Andrew Clements is just such a book. At first, from the standpoint of being a wordsmith, the story’s premise annoyed me greatly. A smart aleck kid decides to reinvent the terminology for a writing instrument and stirs up his teacher, his school, and his community. By the end of the story, however, I’m chuckling not just at the story, but the teacher’s wisdom as the plot thickens and unfolds with its surprising ending.
On reflection, the concepts in Frindle are not so different from Martian Scrabble and I learned a valuable lesson in not judging a book by its first chapters.
Our family loves playing with words, twisting them, giving some new meanings and even inventing new ones. For instance, opesculent: fat with glasses or ultimaphobia: fear of eating the last chip. Our children created “funny” words, words that by themselves are not humorous, but when said out loud will send our family into gales of laughter; “spleen” and “femur” being the most notorious. Imagine being in a grocery store with one’s teenagers as they stumble down the aisles roaring hilariously after one says, “spleen” in just the right tone.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Our society constantly verbs nouns (thanks to the media) and social media allow us to noun verbs. This twisting and warping of the fabric of words can be extremely unsettling when done improperly, but exhilarating in the right circumstances.
Maybe Frindle ought to be required reading in high school.