My father read it to me. I read it to my boys, and now my grandchildren have met the gentle, bemused, wise elephant, his wife Celeste, the old lady, and the little elephants Flora, Pom and Arthur. I confidently assume I'll be reading Babar to great-grandkids one day. As in so many animal stories, there's the loss of a parent, followed by the assumption of responsibilities and rank. Babar is different, however. Just look at the insouciant way he wears his crown. As a small child, a half-century ago, I liked the endpapers best, with the elephant parade: nose to tail. As an adult, I appreciate the deadpan tone of the narrative as Babar learns how to rule. His creator has given him the correct dignified posture to grace his human clothing. People with too much time on their hands have offered literary criticism of this series. Children know better, and simply enjoy the stories and pictures.