{"product_id":"rejuvenile-isbn-9781400080892","title":"Rejuvenile","description":"Once upon a time, boys and girls grew up and set aside childish things. Nowadays, moms and dads skateboard alongside their kids and download the latest pop-song ringtones. Captains of industry pose for the cover of \u003ci\u003eBusinessWeek\u003c\/i\u003e holding Super Soakers. The average age of video game players is twenty-nine and rising. Top chefs develop recipes for Easy-Bake Ovens. Disney World is the world’s top adult vacation destination (that’s adults without kids). And young people delay marriage and childbirth longer than ever in part to keep family obligations from interfering with their fun fun fun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChristopher Noxon has coined a word for this new breed of grown-up: rejuveniles. And as a self-confessed rejuvenile, he’s a sympathetic yet critical guide to this bright and shiny world of people who see growing up as “winding down”—exchanging a life of playful flexibility for anxious days tending lawns and mutual funds. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn \u003ci\u003eRejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e, Noxon explores the historical roots of today’s rejuveniles (hint: all roads lead to Peter Pan), the “toyification” of practical devices (car cuteness is at an all-time high), and the new gospel of play. He talks to parents who love cartoons more than their children do, twenty-somethings who live happily with their parents, and grown-ups who evangelize on behalf of all-ages tag and Legos. And he takes on the “Harrumphing Codgers,” who see the rejuvenile as a threat to the social order. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNoxon tempers stories of his and others’ rejuvenile tendencies with cautionary notes about “lost souls whose taste for childish things is creepy at best.” (Exhibit A: Michael Jackson.) On balance, though, he sees rejuveniles as optimists and capital-R Romantics, people driven by a desire “to hold on to the part of ourselves that feels the most genuinely human. We believe in play, in make believe, in learning, in naps. And in a time of deep uncertainty, we trust that this deeper, more adaptable part of ourselves is our best tool of survival.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFresh and delightfully contrarian, \u003ci\u003eRejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e makes hilarious sense of this seismic culture change. It’s essential reading not only for grown-ups who refuse to “act their age,” but for those who wish they would just grow up.“I read \u003ci\u003eRejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e excitedly, eager to get to Noxon’s conclusions, feeling over and over that he was describing something I sensed was there but hadn’t quite put into words. An eye-opener.” —Ira Glass, host of public radio’s \u003ci\u003eThis American Life\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Geezers wearing blue jeans and watching cartoons and playing videogames is not precisely what Bob Dylan had in mind (‘May you stay forever young’) back in the countercultural day. But as Christopher Noxon smartly and definitively explains, never-ending youthfulness—that is, the mass refusal to swear off fun and comfort for the sake of grown-up propriety—is the enduring legacy of the Woodstock generation.” —Kurt Andersen, host of public radio’s \u003ci\u003eStudio 360\u003c\/i\u003e and author of \u003ci\u003eTurn of the Century \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eRejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e is better than any book out there about play. It sweeps together stories of real people being true to their core selves. This is not a book for escapists; it is a book for curious open explorers looking to lead more effective, flexible, adaptive, vital, and still responsible lives.” —Stuart L. Brown, M.D., founder and president, the Institute for Play\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Any book that inspires me to rediscover Four Square and Duck Duck Goose is A-OK with me.\u003ci\u003e Rejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e made me want to play and it made me think—a stellar combination. Thank you, Christopher, for giving us a concept we actually need: a new, liberating redefinition of adulthood, where you can be a responsible grown-up and still maintain a sense of wonder.” —Sasha Cagen, author of \u003ci\u003eQuirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“With \u003ci\u003eRejuvenile\u003c\/i\u003e, Christopher Noxon brilliantly charts the continual turning of the Boomers, X’ers and Y’ers away from the brittle authority of work-obsessed adulthood. We seriously need more playful times, and \u003ci\u003eRejuvenile \u003c\/i\u003ewill help us get there.” —Pat Kane, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Play Ethic: A Manifesto for a Different Way of Living\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Christopher Noxon has the same affection for the ingenuous adults he describes as they do for their Ninja Turtles, skateboards, and Lego blocks. Noxon is an avid collector in his own right—one of compelling characters, funny stories, and insights that speak to our mixed-up times.” —Ethan Watters, former Chuck E. Cheese Rat and author of \u003ci\u003eUrban Tribes: Are Friends the New Family?\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eChristopher Noxon has written for \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eSalon\u003c\/i\u003e. He lives with his wife and three children in Los Angeles.ONE: Roots of the rejuvenile\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND LEARN SOLEMN THINGS. NO ONE IS GOING TO CATCH ME, LADY, AND MAKE ME A MAN. I WANT TO BE A LITTLE BOY AND HAVE FUN. —J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Before he was a cash cow for Walt Disney, an inspiration for Steven   Spielberg, and an obsession for Michael Jackson, Peter Pan was simply   a revelation. When J. M. Barrie's play Peter Pan, subtitled The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up, opened at the Duke of York Theater in   1904, it announced the arrival of something entirely new. The   theatrical fashion of the time was for so-called problem plays,   heart-wrenching melodramas that dealt with social ills and political   complexities. Parting that gloom was Barrie's tale of a flying boy,   his fairy sidekick, and their adventures in a faraway land where   children remained children forever. Part farce, part pantomime, part   inside joke, Peter Pan was a tale of pirates and fairies told in the   sophisticated language of adults. Based on tall tales Barrie spun to   amuse the five sons of a local barrister--his favorite being a rascal   called George whom he met in Kensington Gardens when the boy was all   of five--Peter Pan was the sort of cross-generational sensation that   would become a model for mass entertainments of the next one hundred   years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    First of the preteen heroes, Peter Pan attracted a rabid following of   young matinee fans. But his real power was over a generation raised   on fairy tales and nonsense rhymes and now anxiously adjusting to the   social changes and gadgetry of a new century. On the night of the   premiere, according to Barrie biographer Andrew Birkin, \"the elite of   London society, with few children among them, emulated Sentimental   Tommy by 'flinging off the years and whistling childhood back.'\"   Wistful, lighthearted, and condemned by a chorus of critics who saw   no good in such open celebration of childishness, Peter Pan was the   first of the rejuvenile blockbusters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Peter Pan was all the more resonant because it was the product of a   celebrated public figure who shared his hero's deep ambivalence about   adulthood. James Matthew Barrie was a small and moody Scotsman with a   bushy mustache and no interest whatsoever in growing up in any   conventional sense. Of this, he'd apparently always been sure.   \"Greatest horror--dream that I am married--wake up screaming,\" the   eighteen-year-old wrote in his college diary. \"Grow up and have to   give up marbles--awful thought.\" While Barrie eventually did get   married, to a comely stage actress named Mary Ansell, he made few   other concessions to adulthood. When he wasn't locked away in his   study, Barrie liked nothing more than practicing magic tricks,   wrestling his giant St. Bernard, and most of all, playing with the   sons of barrister Llewelyn Davies, whom he dressed as pirates, wrote   stories for and about, and kept entertained with his vast knowledge   of cricket, fishing, and Sir Walter Scott.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    There has never been any evidence that Barrie's relationship with the   Davies boys was anything but friendly, but their closeness has   nonetheless prompted psychoanalytic suspicion and prurient interest   ever since. Critics have scoured his biography for clues to explain   Barrie's lifelong fight against traditional adulthood. Was he stunted   by the death of his older brother, the doting of his indulgent   mother, or the rejection of his loveless wife? All those things   undoubtedly had a profound impact on Barrie, but one ultimately   learns very little attempting to attach this misery or that to his   rejuvenile tendencies. Barrie's legacy has less to do with his   private sorrow than his articulation of childhood as a poetic and   primitive life force that can linger long after its expected   expiration. More than a fairy tale, Peter Pan announced the arrival   of a new and enduring breed of adult.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The Invention of Adulthood\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    When I set out to learn about the roots of the rejuvenile, I didn't   expect to find much. I figured a quick historical survey would turn   up little scraps here and there--a few childish eccentrics in ancient   Rome, maybe a popular children's game in Colonial America, perhaps a   juvenile fashion craze from the 1920s. But early in my search for   historical precedents, one thing became clear: This has all happened   before. In seemingly every book I opened on social history,   children's literature, or popular culture, I landed again and again   on parallels from the same few decades. 1865: Alice's Adventures in   Wonderland is embraced by children and adults. 1893: Grown-ups flock   to the first amusement park at the World's Fair in Chicago. 1893: The   first newspaper comic strip, featuring a one-toothed, bald-headed   ragamuffin called the Yellow Kid, is published. 1907: The Scouting   movement is founded by a self-described \"boy-man.\" And at the very   peak of that kidcentric period was the 1902 premiere of Peter Pan,   which neatly summed up the myth of the eternal child.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    For rejuveniles today, all roads lead back to Peter Pan and the turn   of the twentieth century. The natural capacities of children, which   for centuries had been viewed as weak and wayward, were over the   course of these few years discovered as a primary source of   inspiration and profit. It would be another century before the   rejuvenile rebellion we know today, but resistance to what historian   Woody Register calls \"the enfeebling prudence, restraint and   solemnity of growing up\" began here, with the first flight of Pan and   the dawn of the twentieth century.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The temptation today is to think of adulthood as a historic and   natural fact. In a 2004 essay on \"The Perpetual Adolescent,\" Joseph   Epstein wrote that historically, adulthood was treated as the   \"lengthiest and most earnest part of life, where everything serious   happened.\" To stray outside the defined boundaries of adulthood, he   wrote, was \"to go against what was natural and thereby to appear   unseemly, to put one's world somehow out of joint, to be, let's face   it, a touch, and perhaps more than a touch, grotesque.\" A quick   survey of history, however, reveals that adulthood is neither as   ingrained or ancient as Epstein and other Harrumphing Codgers assume.   Before the Industrial Revolution, no one thought much about   adulthood, and even less about childhood. In sixteenth-century   Europe, for instance, \"children shared the same games with adults,   the same toys, the same fairy stories. They lived their lives   together, never apart,\" notes historian J. H. Plumb.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    This shouldn't suggest that people in olden times didn't distinguish   between kids and grown-ups. Of course they did. The distinction forms   the basis of rites of passage that are as old as human history, as   well as some of more recent vintage. Amazonian initiation rites,   Jewish Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, Muslim Khtme Qur'ans, Christian   confirmations, American debutante balls--all serve the same basic   function: to formally announce the end of childhood and the   assumption of new duties and freedoms. It's a mistake, though, to   confuse maturity with adulthood. The maturity celebrated in   traditional rites of passage--assured variously by the onset of   menstruation, the acquisition of literacy, or the ability to stalk   and slit the throat of a large prairie mammal--is not the same thing   as the idea of adulthood hatched a century ago by a coterie of   Victorian clergymen and society ladies. Maturity is old. \"Adulthood\"   is new.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The fact is that, for most of human history, age simply didn't matter   much. Everyone from Aristotle to Dante had idly puzzled over the   comparable merits of each stage of life, with an obviously   middle-aged Aristotle arguing that middle age was best, since young   people exhibited too much trust and old people too little. But such   distinctions were mostly made by philosophers; for average people,   age was more a matter of biology than identity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Children got the hard end of this bargain. For more than two thousand   years, from antiquity to the eighteenth century, children had little   of the special status they now enjoy. Young people were mostly   treated as deficient, imperfect creatures whose lives and interests   were largely unimportant and certainly nothing any adult would want   to emulate. There's some disagreement about precisely when adults   first developed an awareness and feeling for childhood. French   historian Philippe Aries's seminal 1961 book Centuries of Childhood   held that childhood was \"discovered\" between the fifteenth and   seventeenth centuries; other scholars have pointed to eighth-century   monks who wrote admiringly of children's capacity for wisdom and   honesty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    In any case, it's clear that today's obsession with the moral and   physical development of children is relatively new. As recently as   the eighteenth century, the word childhood was understood to mean   littleness, immaturity, irresponsibility, helplessness, and   irrationality--qualities that adults actively sought to restrain in   their offspring and suppress in themselves. Partially, this low   status was a product of hard biological and social realities; life   spans were relatively brief and rates of infant mortality were so   high that parents often had seven or eight children in the hopes that   one or two would survive. \"People could not allow themselves to   become too attached to something they regarded as a probable loss,\"   Aries wrote. Even those children who survived the perils of nature   sometimes didn't survive their elders; infanticide was a routine and   often legal practice through the Middle Ages. The depiction of   children in medieval paintings offers an eerie demonstration of the   perspective informing such atrocities--children appear as genderless   and shrunken, with the extended limbs and mature features of people   three times their size.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It's hard to figure which was worse: this sort of confused disregard,   or the equally common notion that children--indeed, childhood   itself--were inherently depraved. Seventeenth-century Puritans called   children \"young vipers\" and \"filthy bundles of original sin.\" French   cleric Pierre de Berulle put it succinctly, writing that childhood is   \"the most vile and abject state of human nature, after that of   death.\" The best a child could hope for was to be born to a   relatively enlightened parent like Renaissance essayist Michel de   Montaigne, who extolled the entertainment value of children, saying   they could be valuable to adults \"for our amusement, like monkeys.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It's no wonder then that adults felt no need to revisit a period   either completely disregarded or derided as wretched at the core.   This conventional wisdom also helps explain why children grew up so   much more quickly in centuries past. While it's now common for people   to spend much of their twenties and thirties anguishing over when (or   if) they'll reach adulthood, for most of human history people were   thrust into fully adult roles at a truly tender age. Children as   young as six were hustled off to work in eighteenth-century England.   A sixteen-year-old Caucasian boy who today would be lucky to find   work as a fry cook had, as recently as 1750, all the rights and   responsibilities of a full-grown man--he could enter contracts,   enlist in the army, even work as a physician. Girls of the same   period obviously had fewer choices but were similarly hustled into   maturity; American common law of Colonial times held that girls were   fit for marriage at the age of seven.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    What historian Howard Chudacoff calls \"age consciousness\" blossomed   in the 1800s, as people who grew up in an agrarian society moved into   cities, took jobs in offices and factories, enrolled their children   in public schools, and began to sample the products of a new mass   media. In this new modern world, how old you were suddenly took on   all sorts of new meanings. In premodern America, many people didn't   even know how old they were; now birthday celebrations were treated   as important holidays. At the same time, the idea of age-appropriate   activity took hold, encouraging parents to enroll children in   age-based grades in school and buy books and periodicals written   specifically for children, adolescents, and young adults.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    This emphasis on age formed one basis for new Victorian notions of   etiquette in an era when propriety was endlessly analyzed and   debated. Mainly, these new codes of conduct dealt with class   distinctions and gender roles. But the nineteenth-century   preoccupation with correct behavior also resulted in a novel   organizing principle: adulthood. The word adult can be traced back to   the 1500s but didn't gain currency until the 1700s. It quickly became   synonymous with Victorian ideals of \"character,\" such as obligation,   integrity, manners, duty, service, honor, and, above all,   self-control. While adulthood was a mark of moral virtue, it was also   a product of economic necessity. You were an adult when you could   provide for yourself and your family, when you met the job   requirements for a new urban industrial economy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    And from the start, adulthood was conceived as a perilous, deadly   serious business. \"The only safety for man or woman is to do exactly   right\" was the advice to youngsters in the popular 1889 family   magazine Worthington Annual. \"The least deviation from the path of   rectitude may lead to the direst disaster.\" Those who wished to avoid   ruin were urged to conform to a set of standards meant to encourage   civility, consideration, and charity, but which in retrospect appear   about as natural and forgiving as the rib cage-crushing corsets of   the era.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The spirit of adulthood is best appreciated by perusing a class of   literature that was first embraced at the close of the nineteenth   century: etiquette books. The first popular guides for manners   appeared in the 1830s; by the turn of the century, etiquette was an   American industry, with an average of six new titles appearing every   year advising readers how to speak, dress, play, work, walk,   eat--even think. Readers of all ages and classes could find codes of   conduct in titles including Manners for Men, How to Be a Lady,   Behave: Papers on Children's Etiquette, and The Negro in Etiquette: A   Novelty. They ranged in heft and price from an 872-page tome known as   The Encyclopaedia of Business and Social Norms to slim volumes that   could be had at newsstands for a dime. Taken together, they   represented how-to guides for would-be adults. The modern gentleman   or lady, decreed these new arbiters of correct behavior, must   constantly struggle to suppress habits of spontaneity, emotion,   impulsiveness--in short, anything at all childish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Self-control, formality, and seriousness were core values of the new   adult character. A proper gentleman, advised the 1890 family magazine   Sunday Chatterbox, \"is not easily led astray by dreamy and   speculative people . . . He very rarely, if ever, makes a fool of   himself--this is a great thing to say of a man.\" Young women   meanwhile were advised to associate only \"with those who are truly   serious . . . Nothing is more unbecoming than trifling, giggling, and   talking nonsense to each other.\" Adults of both genders should keep a   tight lid on any \"undue emotion, whether of laughter, of anger, or of   mortification,\" advised John Young in his 1883 book Manners,   Etiquette and Deportment. \"Keep yourself quiet and composed under all   circumstances,\" he continued. At the dinner table, readers were   cautioned to avoid jokes, anecdotes, or linguistic flights of fancy   (\"Puns are always regarded as vulgar,\" he sniffed).","brand":"Crown","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303694094565,"sku":"NP9781400080892","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781400080892.jpg?v=1767735604","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/rejuvenile-isbn-9781400080892","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}