When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer

by Walt Whitman

Book Overview

Leave time for wonder.
Walt Whitman's "When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer" is an enduring celebration of the imagination. Here, Whitman's wise words are beautifully recast by New York Times #1 best-selling illustrator Loren Long to tell the story of a boy's fascination with the heavens. Toy rocket in hand, the boy finds himself in a crowded, stuffy lecture hall. At first he is amazed by the charts and the figures. But when he finds himself...

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0689863977
• ISBN13: 9780689863974
• Release Date: November 2004
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
• Length: 32 Pages
• Weight: 1.20 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.4" x 12.3" x 10.1"
• Age Range: 5 to 9 years
• Grade Range: Preschool to Grade 4

Customer Reviews

An Antidote for the Ignorant Left Brainers

I have purchased this book for all of my extended family members. Loren Long's portraits are, consciously or subconsciously, the answer to most of what ails humanity...ignore pretense, sometimes parents will unintentionally lead you astray, question everything, don't be easily impressed, don't control or be controlled, ignore the masses, listen to your body, inspire change, FEEL!, bridge the seen and unseen, reflect, the truth is out there, the smallest light is most easily seen in darkness. And most importantly, reciprocity in flight. It's all there for those who see and feel with their hearts rather than their eyes and hands.

A book with staying power

My twin daughters were riveted by this book when they were just over three-years-old. They returned to it again and again. It had a quiet, solemn quality that I thought might go over their heads, but it seemed like the opposite was true. There was a lovely synthesis of poetry and image that gave this staying power. It's time to get a copy again to see how they respond. But I'd avoid hypothetical statements of "most children won't understand...(blah, blah, blah). Try 'em, and maybe they'll show you something unexpected.

Uncle Walt rules

I wish I had this book when I was teaching 19th-century American literature to college freshmen. I bought a few weeks ago and have been reading it to my daughters--the oldest is 5. She loves the art, and so do I. Tonight, out of the blue, she recited most of the poem to me over dinner--we had never before worked on memorizing this or any other poem, but I had mentioned to her that this would be a good poem to memorize. Looks like she agreed. I'm forever grateful to Loren Long for giving Walt to my daughter at such an early age. I can't seem to understand the negativity expressed by some of the other reviewers. To call this poem anti-intellectual doesn't make much sense to me. It does, however, make sense to balance intellectual inquiry with the wonder and appreciation afforded by observation. The reviewer who mentions sharing his telescope ought to agree, since the children who peer through it clearly are excited by wonder--otherwise, why not just Google "Saturn" and find even better images? Gazing up at the sky--whether with the eye or through a telescope--excited the imagination, and there's something to be said for contemplating the stars in silence. What astronomer hasn't?

Interesting book

I respectfully disagree with the other reviews. I have seen a lot of children dragged to lectures and other broccoli-like occasions depicted in this book. I don't feel this book or this poem is anti-intellectual or out-of-date, in fact, I think it is very timely in view of the current competitive ethos of advancing/preparing children, where we push children to absorb information and to excel academically, but don't always give children the chance to experience and appreciate things on their own terms. What I do think is anti-intellectual is discouraging an illustrator from interpreting a poem in her own way. I'm glad Walt Whitman is being presented and celebrated for a new age. This book is nice presented to young audiences in combination with Walt Whitman: Words for America by Barbara Kerley.