I heard horrifying news the other day; there’s a new movie coming out about Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh and they are using the Disney Pooh, not the wonderful original drawings by E.H. Shepherd.
This led my newsroom colleagues to remark I would need my own hashtag. They are completely correct; Disney Pooh is #notmypooh.
I grew up on Winnie-the-Pooh. My father would read Pooh to me every night using different voices to bring the characters to life. I’m even named for Christopher Robin. So, you can imagine my displeasure when Disney bought the rights and remade the venerable, silly old bear in its likeness.
Disney even dropped the hyphens in Pooh’s name when they took over. Every true Winnie-the-Pooh fan knows those hyphens are important, and that it’s pronounced, Winnie-ther-Pooh. I even know Christopher Robin’s original teddy bear was named Edward and while Winnie-the-Pooh is a boy, the real bear in the London Zoo he was named for was a girl.
How dare Disney introduce a new character; Gopher was never in the original books. Shudder to think what new horrors will be in this new movie.
Many a time have I played Poohsticks with family and friends and hunted heffalumps and woozles. I’ve made the pilgrimage to Ashdown Forest, home of the 100 Aker Wood.
I have a pretty impressive library of Winnie-the-Pooh books, including the Tao of Pooh and Winnie ille Pu – that’s Winnie-the-Pooh for those not up on their Latin. I read Christopher Robin’s autobiography in which he talks about how much he hated being the inspiration for the books, mean-spirited though that book ultimately was.
I’m a self-confessed Pooh purist. If it’s not the A.A. Milne and E.H. Shepherd Pooh, I’m not interested. I’m sure this latest movie will charm and delight audiences – it is Winnie-the-Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and the rest of the gang, after all – I just won’t be one of them.
I prefer to read the books and marvel at the wonderful use of language that opened up a whole new world to me. Pooh might be “a bear of very little brain,” and he’s a terrible speller, but he’s a lovely, warm part of my childhood. He will forever remind me of my father who gave me my love of reading – he and Pooh, that is.
