The first story, "How They Broke Away to Go to the Rootabaga Country," introduces a world where pigs wear bibs and a circus clown oven bakes surprise. Sandburg's prose moves with a rhythmic, almost musical cadence, repeating phrases like "the balloons floated and filled the sky" to create a dreamlike atmosphere. The opening establishes a pattern of absurd logic: characters leave familiar villages for a place where "the zigzag railroad" runs and "the wind blows villages away."
Readers should note how Sandburg uses catalog-like lists of story titles within the table of contents—these hint at the interconnected yet standalone nature of each tale. The illustrations by Maud and Miska Petersham, mentioned in the front matter, complement the text's playful tone.
The Zigzag Railroad and Its Passengers
Sandburg's Rootabaga Country is built on a logic of its own, where a railroad can be zigzag and a skyscraper can decide to have a child. In "The Two Skyscrapers Who Decided to Have a Child," the buildings whisper to each other at night "the same as mountains whisper." This simile grounds the fantastical in the familiar, a technique Sandburg uses throughout. The story introduces a tin brass goat and a tin brass goose, objects that observe the world like silent witnesses.
Notice how the narrative voice shifts between matter-of-fact statements and lyrical flights. When the skyscrapers talk in daylight, they do so "the same as mountains talk," but at night they lean and whisper, their secrets left untold. This restraint invites readers to fill the gaps with their own imagination.
Chains of Favor and Consequence
In "How Bimbo the Snip's Thumb Stuck to His Nose When the Wind Changed," Sandburg constructs a chain of dependencies that rivals any folktale. Bevo the Hike must find a ladder with a whistle to help a monkey replace a traffic policeman, who can then hit Bimbo's thumb six times with his club. The solution requires an umbrella handle maker, a monkey, and a policeman—each with specific conditions.
The story's structure mirrors a cumulative tale, but Sandburg layers it with deadpan humor. The old widow woman carries kindling because she "did not have money enough to buy coal," a realistic detail amid the absurdity. This juxtaposition of the mundane and the bizarre is a hallmark of the collection.
Repetition as a Narrative Engine
Sandburg uses repetition not just for rhythm but as a structural device. In the opening story, the phrase "the balloons floated and filled the sky" appears twice, framing the narrative. Similarly, the phrase "the wind changed" recurs in Bimbo's tale, driving the plot forward. This repetition gives the stories a chant-like quality, making them suitable for reading aloud.
Character names often repeat sounds: Blixie Bimber, Jason Squiff, Rags Habakuk. These names are as whimsical as the events, yet they follow a pattern of alliteration or rhyme. Pay attention to how Sandburg varies sentence length—long, winding sentences for descriptions, short ones for action—to control pacing.
The Role of the Illustrations
The frontispiece shows "The balloons floated and filled the sky," and the table of contents lists full-page illustrations at specific moments, such as "He opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money." These visual cues are integral to the reading experience, as they highlight key scenes. The Petershams' artwork, described as "decorations," likely echoes the text's playful tone.
While the excerpts do not include the illustrations themselves, their placement suggests they punctuate moments of transformation or discovery. Readers should imagine how the images might amplify the text's surreal quality, especially in stories like "How the Five Rusty Rats Helped Find a New Village," where rats hold "long curved tails."
Sandburg's Rootabaga Stories rewards readers who embrace its unconventional logic. The tales are best approached not as traditional fairy tales but as American folklore reimagined through a poet's lens. Let the repetitions guide you, and do not look for moral lessons—instead, savor the language and the unexpected connections between characters and objects. The zigzag path is the point.
After all these years shelving them, I find the whimsical zigzags of Sandburg's Rootabaga Stories settle into a quiet kinship with The Ghost Ship — Text and Context—both carry that odd, gentle loneliness of a voyager who realizes the journey’s true compass points homeward. It's a comfort, knowing they sit near each other in my memory.