{"id":127670,"date":"2018-07-19T11:00:34","date_gmt":"2018-07-19T15:00:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=127670"},"modified":"2018-07-19T16:26:17","modified_gmt":"2018-07-19T20:26:17","slug":"the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/","title":{"rendered":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What could be simpler than a bubble, a thin little floating membrane, the symbol of an innocent, trouble-free childhood? But it is said that one cannot live in a bubble\u2014it\u2019s right there in the definition: \u201ca good or fortunate situation that is isolated from reality or unlikely to last.\u201d In this jagged world, bubbles burst.<\/p>\n

A Bubble<\/em>, the artist and musician Genevi\u00e8ve Castr\u00e9e\u2019s posthumously published last work, is, in essence, a children\u2019s board book. It begins with the caption \u201cMaman lives in a bubble,\u201d above a drawing of a little blond child in cat-face knee socks gazing at her mother, who floats in the titular sphere. \u201cI love you very much,\u201d the mother says, her freckled face anxious, her choppy hair concealed under a beanie hat. She may be unwell, sick. Indeed, the next page confirms it, the mother has been ill for some time: \u201cIt has been a while now. I no longer remember the time when she didn\u2019t live in the bubble, I was too little.\u201d The mother works on projects in her bubble: embroidery, reading, crafting, drawing. She gets sicker and sicker, her illness progresses, her hair thins, she starts wearing a cannula, she is connected to a tank. She cannot leave her bubble, but sometimes the little girl joins her in it. They eat breakfast together (\u201cShe doesn\u2019t mind if I make crumbs with my toast\u201d), nap (\u201ca special time for Maman and me\u201d), make art (\u201cI draw with her, it brings her great joy\u201d). When she goes on excursions with Papa, the little girl makes sure to tell Maman about her adventures. The bubble separates them but cannot keep them apart. One day, the bubble ruptures, Maman washes out, disoriented at first, but overwhelmingly happy, and she kisses her little girl a thousand times, invites her for an ice cream cone. \u201cI say yes!\u201d the child reports contentedly, and the two walk off together, holding hands, free of the bubble at last, absorbed in each other.\u00a0<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

From A Bubble<\/em> by\u00a0Genevi\u00e8ve Castr\u00e9e\u00a0(Courtesy of Drawn and Quarterly)<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

But they didn\u2019t live happily ever after. The final note by Castr\u00e9e\u2019s husband, the musician Phil Elverum, informs us: \u201cIn her final weeks alive, Genevi\u00e8ve clung to finishing this book for our daughter with intense focus and devotion. I think she was trying to cast a spell, to draw herself into survival. She didn\u2019t get to finish it.\u201d (The cartoonist Anders Nilsen, a friend, completed some of the illustrations, based on Castr\u00e9e\u2019s instructions, as well as some of the lettering.) Castr\u00e9e died in July 2016. She had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer the previous year, four months after she gave birth to her daughter. This knowledge lends\u00a0A Bubble<\/em> the quality of a saint\u2019s relic and makes it nearly unbearable to read. It is a tiny work, less than twenty small pages, and more would seem impossible to handle. The first few times I looked through it, I held my breath, for it is in essence a horror story. I kept thinking of that old urban legend\/possible Hemingway apocrypha that the saddest story ever told took only six words: \u201cFor sale: baby shoes, never worn.\u201d And here is this, a book sized for a toddler\u2019s hands, with its simple colors, its direct language, its bright hope. Baby book, begun in love, never finished.<\/p>\n

A Bubble<\/em> is devastation distilled. What else can be said about a book made by a young, dying mother? On A Crow Looked at Me<\/em>, the album he wrote about his wife\u2019s death, Phil Elverum sings,<\/p>\n

Death is real
\nSomeone’s there and then they’re not
\nAnd it’s not for singing about
\nIt’s not for making into art
\nWhen real death enters the house, all poetry is dumb
\nWhen I walk into the room where you were
\nAnd look into the emptiness instead
\nAll fails.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

A Bubble<\/em> exists in the bubble of the tragic circumstances of its making.<\/p>\n

But it also exists on the larger continuum of the art Castr\u00e9e made: in her graphic novel Susceptible<\/em>\u00a0and in the albums she recorded, first as Woelv, then as \u00d4 Paon. Writing about Fleuve<\/em>, \u00d4 Paon\u2019s 2015 album, Lars Gotrich describes it as \u201ctragic and triumphant.\u201d And it\u2019s true: sorrow and elation coexist in surprising, contrary harmony in Castr\u00e9e\u2019s work, its evocative lines, its meditative harmonies. Susceptible<\/em>, published by Drawn and Quarterly in 2012, episodically lays out the trials of Goglu, who resembles, with her frank, freckled face, a younger Maman. \u00a0Growing up in Quebec, she is largely neglected by her mother, Am\u00e8re, and stepfather, Amer. Her father lives some five thousand miles away in British Columbia (\u201cAs I get older, I meet other children who have a missing father who lives in British Columbia. It\u2019s like a mythical kingdom where dads go to disappear\u201d), and the circumstance of physical distance is compounded by the fact that Goglu\u2019s English is limited and her father\u2019s French is absurd. (Goglu calls him T\u00eate d\u2019Oeuf, a nickname derived from the time her uncles made her father repeat nonsense like \u201cje suis une t\u00eate d\u2019oeuf,\u201d or \u201cI am an egg head.\u201d) Subject to the vagaries of her mother\u2019s drinking, feeling unwanted\u2014she overhears Am\u00e8re confess she wishes she\u2019d gotten an abortion\u2014and friendless, Goglu takes refuge in punk music and art. Ultimately, she learns, as she must, to forge her own way. At book\u2019s end, she realizes, \u201cI\u2019m eighteen. I have all my teeth. I can do whatever I want.\u201d It\u2019s as hopeful an ending as one might hope for.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

From Susceptible<\/em> by Genevi\u00e8ve Castr\u00e9e (courtesy of Drawn and Quarterly)<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Susceptible<\/em> was presented as Castr\u00e9e\u2019s first book, but she had, at the time of its publication, been long involved in making comics and zines, and so the graphic novel is marked by a maturity of style, a quiet, unshowy confidence. Castr\u00e9e often foregoes typical comics paneling, allowing moments and memories to spill out directly on the page. She uses a looping cursive hand, small and neat, which sometimes has the feel of a lovingly scrawled caption in a family photo album and always suggests a confidential whisper, a secret you have to lean in to hear, one well worth the effort. The effect is unforced intimacy.<\/p>\n

The title speaks to young Goglu\u2019s vulnerability to the chaos around her. But the book itself also handily demonstrates all the traps that Castr\u00e9e was not susceptible to: sentimentality, melodrama, self-pity. In this autobiographical work\u2014\u201cGoglu\u201d was a childhood nickname\u2014she foregrounds painful memories but also insists that the pain can be transformed into something beyond them. Susceptible<\/em> offers a series of evocative vignettes (with titles like \u201cgoodbye\u201d and \u201chouse fire I\u201d and \u201cmy room\u201d), building to a liberating coda. Revisiting it hurts after looking at A Bubble<\/em>.<\/p>\n

As I struggle to write this, I am listening to \u00d4 Paon, and I am thinking about Castr\u00e9e\u2019s insistence on finishing A Bubble<\/em> in her last days, her attempt to make something lasting and something pure for the daughter she knew she was leaving behind. Susceptible <\/em>begins with Goglu speculating \u201cabout what is innate and what is acquired.\u201d She wonders \u201cif it is possible for a sadness to be passed from one generation to the other.\u201d The book explores Goglu\u2019s depressions but also works to transcend them. It does. It does because Goglu\u2014or rather the woman she became\u2014is clearly talented, unafraid, determined, committed to making something. Castr\u00e9e was self-taught, but that only comes through in the way she seems so at ease neglecting the conventions of genre. And it is tempting to call A Bubble<\/em> brave, because it is. It is tempting to call it beautiful. It is beautiful. But I wish it didn\u2019t exist. I wish there were no need for it to have been made.<\/p>\n

In Bubbles<\/em>, his massive exploration of the \u201carcheology of the intimate,\u201d the philosopher Peter Sloterdijk describes the uterus as a \u201cbubble\u201d that cradles the fetus before it makes its way out into the world, before it assumes the task of individuating, separating from the mother, becoming a person. Becoming a person, your own person, is powerful and freeing; this is what Susceptible<\/em> is about. But one remains haunted by the past. Sometimes it seems that Castr\u00e9e\u2019s music, sung in the French that remained her instinctive language, suggests as much. The art Castr\u00e9e made is testimony: to the joys of growing older, and to the price. And I am reminded that \u201cbubble\u201d can refer to \u201cspeech bubble,\u201d can mark the imperative to experience and to speak. When that bubble bursts, all that is left is silence.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yevgeniya Traps lives in Brooklyn. She works at the Gallatin School of Individualized Study, NYU.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  What could be simpler than a bubble, a thin little floating membrane, the symbol of an innocent, trouble-free childhood? But it is said that one cannot live in a bubble\u2014it\u2019s right there in the definition: \u201ca good or fortunate situation that is isolated from reality or unlikely to last.\u201d In this jagged world, bubbles […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":228,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[34750,30568,8844,34753,10137,34754,34752,2468,30567,34751],"class_list":["post-127670","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-a-bubble","tag-a-crow-looked-at-me","tag-drawn-and-quarterly","tag-fleuve","tag-genevieve-castree","tag-lars-gotrich","tag-o-paon","tag-peter-sloterdijk","tag-phil-elverum","tag-susceptible"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"A Bubble is devastation distilled.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"July 19, 2018 \u2013   What could be simpler than a bubble, a thin little floating membrane, the symbol of an innocent, trouble-free childhood? But it is said that one\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"862\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"396\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Yevgeniya Traps\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Yevgeniya Traps\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"8 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Yevgeniya Traps\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/c615ad37ac637f3f9311417cf32a0eee\"},\"headline\":\"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World\",\"datePublished\":\"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\"},\"wordCount\":1519,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"A Bubble\",\"A Crow Looked at Me\",\"Drawn and Quarterly\",\"Fleuve\",\"Genevi\u00e8ve Castr\u00e9e\",\"Lars Gotrich\",\"\u00d4 Paon\",\"Peter Sloterdijk\",\"Phil Elverum\",\"Susceptible\"],\"articleSection\":[\"Arts & Culture\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\",\"name\":\"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00\",\"description\":\"A Bubble is devastation distilled.\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg\"},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"description\":\"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"width\":696,\"height\":696,\"caption\":\"The Paris Review\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\",\"https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview\",\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview\"]},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/c615ad37ac637f3f9311417cf32a0eee\",\"name\":\"Yevgeniya Traps\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/be678d42c23ad2089acea29d98b103f97493c31436f1b460c948ce7cae09ca5e?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/be678d42c23ad2089acea29d98b103f97493c31436f1b460c948ce7cae09ca5e?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Yevgeniya Traps\"},\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/yevgeniya-traps\/\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps","description":"A Bubble is devastation distilled.","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps","og_description":"July 19, 2018 \u2013   What could be simpler than a bubble, a thin little floating membrane, the symbol of an innocent, trouble-free childhood? But it is said that one","og_url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/","og_site_name":"The Paris Review","article_publisher":"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","article_published_time":"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00","article_modified_time":"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00","og_image":[{"width":862,"height":396,"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Yevgeniya Traps","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_creator":"@parisreview","twitter_site":"@parisreview","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Yevgeniya Traps","Est. reading time":"8 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"Article","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#article","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/"},"author":{"name":"Yevgeniya Traps","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/c615ad37ac637f3f9311417cf32a0eee"},"headline":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World","datePublished":"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00","dateModified":"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00","mainEntityOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/"},"wordCount":1519,"publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg","keywords":["A Bubble","A Crow Looked at Me","Drawn and Quarterly","Fleuve","Genevi\u00e8ve Castr\u00e9e","Lars Gotrich","\u00d4 Paon","Peter Sloterdijk","Phil Elverum","Susceptible"],"articleSection":["Arts & Culture"],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/","name":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World by Yevgeniya Traps","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg","datePublished":"2018-07-19T15:00:34+00:00","dateModified":"2018-07-19T20:26:17+00:00","description":"A Bubble is devastation distilled.","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/genevieve-castree.jpg"},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/07\/19\/the-saddest-childrens-book-in-the-world\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"The Saddest Children\u2019s Book in the World"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","name":"The Paris Review","description":"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization","name":"The Paris Review","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","width":696,"height":696,"caption":"The Paris Review"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"},"sameAs":["https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview","https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview"]},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/c615ad37ac637f3f9311417cf32a0eee","name":"Yevgeniya Traps","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/be678d42c23ad2089acea29d98b103f97493c31436f1b460c948ce7cae09ca5e?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/be678d42c23ad2089acea29d98b103f97493c31436f1b460c948ce7cae09ca5e?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Yevgeniya Traps"},"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/yevgeniya-traps\/"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127670","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/228"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=127670"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127670\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":127722,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127670\/revisions\/127722"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=127670"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=127670"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=127670"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}