In the 1970s, Sesame Street books were able to delve into complex and sometimes difficult topics with a freedom that might be surprising today. Without the pressures of test audiences and immediate online reactions, these books used the beloved Sesame Street Muppets to impart valuable life lessons. As a parent exploring these vintage books with my own child, I’ve discovered that no Muppet embodies poignant childhood struggles quite like the lovable, furry Grover.
On television, Grover is known for his deep voice, endearing clumsiness, and underlying sweetness. However, in the Sesame Street books of the 70s, particularly titles like The Monster at the End of This Book, Grover’s character gains even more depth. He becomes a profoundly relatable figure, wrestling with insecurity and a powerful need for acceptance. More than just wanting to get by, Grover yearns to be loved, admired, and successful in the eyes of everyone. This intense desire often sets him up for disappointment and heartbreak throughout these classic children’s stories.
Grover’s constant self-affirmations – calling himself “cute,” “lovable,” “adorable,” and “a friend” – highlight his deep-seated need for validation. This vulnerability is central to books with telling titles such as Grover’s Bad, Awful Day and Grover’s Bad Dream. But this anxious undercurrent also permeates stories where the titles don’t immediately reveal Grover’s precociously worried inner world.
For instance, in Grover Learns to Read, Grover’s fear of his mother ceasing their bedtime reading ritual leads him to hide his newfound literacy. Similarly, in Grover Goes to School, his strong desire to fit in and be accepted by his peers results in him being manipulated and ultimately reduced to tears. Grover is perpetually on the verge of tears, often seeking solace in his mother’s comforting arms. Interestingly, Grover’s father remains conspicuously absent from Sesame Street lore, mentioned only fleetingly in a few books across the show’s long history.
In The Exciting Adventures of Super Grover, a rare reference to Grover’s father emerges. We learn that Grover’s Super Grover costume was created using “a funny old helmet that Grover’s daddy had brought home.” This single, almost throwaway line, represents the extent of his father’s contribution to his life. Even Super Grover’s origin story, despite its inherent goofiness, hints at themes of parental absence and its potential impact.
However, no book captures Grover’s inherent sadness quite like 1986’s Why Are You So Mean to Me?. This book reaches a level of emotional intensity rarely seen in children’s literature, exploring themes of rejection and hurt feelings with surprising depth.
The story begins with Grover in a state of innocent optimism. He wakes up excited for a school picnic and is thrilled when his mother gifts him a baseball bat, envisioning himself as a “super batter!” This poignant, misguided optimism is characteristic of Grover. He doesn’t just aim to participate; he dreams of excelling, of being admired and celebrated. This makes his inevitable failures all the more impactful.
Predictably, Grover’s baseball aspirations fall flat. “Grover was not a super batter,” the book states plainly. He strikes out, losing the game for his team, and faces the sting of public ridicule from his classmates. Walking home, Grover’s heartbroken question, “Why did all my friends make fun of me?” resonates deeply. “A big tear ran down (Grover’s) furry face,” the narrative continues, emphasizing the raw emotion of childhood disappointment.
In his despair, Grover encounters the ever-cheerful Big Bird, who innocently presents Grover with a painting. Grover, consumed by his own misery, lashes out, yelling, “That stinks! That does not look like me at all,” reducing Big Bird to tears. Big Bird’s bewildered cry, echoing the book’s title, “Why Are You So Mean to Me?”, forces Grover to confront his own behavior. Overwhelmed, Grover then bursts into tears himself, recounting his baseball humiliation to Big Bird.
Seeking comfort, Grover asks his mother, “Mommy, will I ever be good at batting?” In a moment of genuine tenderness and realism, she responds that he might improve with practice, but “maybe you will not.” However, she reassures him, “you will always be good at being Grover.” This acceptance of self, flaws and all, is a powerful message embedded within the sometimes-melancholy world of Grover’s book adventures.
One of the strengths of Sesame Street books is their honest depiction of children’s emotional lives, including tears. For children, intense emotions and crying are often natural responses to frustration and disappointment. These books acknowledge this reality. While Grover’s stories often involve sadness and rejection, they ultimately lead to lessons learned, obstacles overcome, and a return to smiles and hugs. Yet, the underlying sense of Grover’s vulnerability and yearning lingers.
Grover’s most compelling books are driven by his deeply relatable desires: to belong, to succeed, and to be loved and appreciated for who he is. But equally powerful is his underlying fear.
In the classic 1971 book, The Monster at the End of This Book, this fear takes center stage, initially appearing external but ultimately revealing itself to be internal. Through a clever, meta narrative, Grover realizes, based on the book’s title, that a monster awaits at the end. “Oh, I am so afraid of monsters!” he exclaims, expressing a universal childhood fear.
Monsters represent the unknown, the terrifying aspects of our imagination and anxieties. Grover’s desperate attempts to prevent the reader from turning the pages – tying pages together, building brick walls – are driven by his fear of this imagined monster.
Like many of us, Grover is prone to catastrophizing, anticipating the worst, and struggling against the inevitable. It is only at the very end of the book that Grover confronts the “monster” and discovers a profound truth: the monster he has been dreading is himself – lovable, furry old Grover.
Grover’s fear of external monsters mirrors a deeper fear of his own perceived “monstrousness,” his own flaws and insecurities. It’s through accepting himself, his imperfections, and his inherent “Grover-ness,” that he can overcome his fear and self-doubt.
Decades later, in 2000, a sequel, Another Monster at the End of This Book: Starring Lovable, Furry Old Grover, and Equally Lovable, Furry Little Elmo, was released. This sequel, however, somewhat misses the mark. While Grover is still apprehensive about the monster, the ever-optimistic Elmo embraces the idea, diminishing the depth of Grover’s original struggle.
Elmo embodies the cheerful, perpetually positive persona we often aspire to. But it is Grover – with his anxieties, hopes, vulnerabilities, and deep desire for acceptance – who truly reflects our own human experiences. This is why Grover, the most endearingly sad and undeniably lovable of all Sesame Street Muppets, resonates so profoundly with readers of all ages.
This article was inspired by insights found on Fatherly.
