Played for oneself or for a confidant: A story dedicated to the moon or oneself.

This is the fourth pic­ture book cre­at­ed by the young Steads (not count­ing their joint adap­ta­tion of Mark Twain’s *The Stolen Prince of Mar­garet*), and I am for­tu­nate enough to have trans­lat­ed all four.Post­script in 2026:In 2025, he also trans­lat­ed “Amos’s Snowy Day”.As a con­tin­u­a­tion of “Amos’s Late Day,” the cou­ple’s col­lab­o­ra­tive works have now been trans­lat­ed into six vol­umes.)

Since their first col­lab­o­ra­tive book, *Amos’ Sick Day*, won the 2011 Calde­cott Medal, they have grad­u­al­ly become ris­ing stars, with even ABC News describ­ing the hus­band-and-wife team as “one of the most famous names in (Amer­i­can) chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture.” For near­ly a decade, they have each col­lab­o­rat­ed with oth­er cre­ators (authors or illus­tra­tors), and hus­band Philip Stead has also writ­ten and illus­trat­ed sev­er­al works him­self. Inter­est­ing­ly, how­ev­er, the cou­ple’s actu­al col­lab­o­ra­tive writ­ing has been quite slow: *The Bear Has a Sto­ry to Tell* was pub­lished in 2012; *Lenny and Lucy* in 2015; and *Play­ing for Mr. Moon* in 2019. More­over, atten­tive read­ers may notice that the tone of these works has become increas­ing­ly qui­et, seem­ing­ly form­ing a stark con­trast to the noisy world.

I met them in Bei­jing in Novem­ber 2015. They were younger and more ener­getic than I had imag­ined, but also pos­sessed a rare sin­cer­i­ty and puri­ty. They said that around 2013, they moved with their adopt­ed stray dog, “Wednes­day,” to a remote town in Michi­gan with only two or three hun­dred peo­ple. Their new home was next to a grove of trees, where they could some­times hear owls hoot­ing at night. They were indeed the kind of uncon­ven­tion­al peo­ple who cher­ished qui­et inside and out, yet they so des­per­ate­ly longed for pure friend­ship. All their works were insep­a­ra­ble from the warmth based on friend­ship. Their book, *Lenny and Lucy*, was even more direct, telling the sto­ry of find­ing new friends after mov­ing to a remote place—quiet and heart­warm­ing. This book, *Play­ing for Mr. Moon*, seemed even more serene, its expres­sion more sub­tle and nuanced, leav­ing the read­er with even more antic­i­pa­tion.

At the begin­ning of the sto­ry, Har­ri­et’s par­ents, full of antic­i­pa­tion, say to their daugh­ter Har­ri­et, who is obsessed with play­ing the cel­lo, “One day, you’ll be play­ing the cel­lo in a large orches­tra. Would­n’t that make you very hap­py?” This is meant to be a strong affir­ma­tion and sup­port for their child, and it con­tains fer­vent expec­ta­tions. I think most par­ents would under­stand and agree with this. How­ev­er, the cel­lo girl’s reac­tion in the sto­ry is unex­pect­ed­ly cold. Her palms are sweat­ing, her face is burn­ing, and she imag­ines her par­ents as pen­guin-like lis­ten­ers, want­i­ng to run away as soon as pos­si­ble.

At this point, some read­ers might won­der if the girl has some kind of psy­cho­log­i­cal issue, or at least is too shy. Would this book be an inspi­ra­tional sto­ry about help­ing chil­dren over­come their shy­ness? If you think that, you’ll be dis­ap­point­ed. The nar­ra­tor is actu­al­ly com­plete­ly on the girl’s side, offer­ing com­plete under­stand­ing, accep­tance, and even gen­uine appre­ci­a­tion. How is this pos­si­ble?

It turns out that Har­ri­et (who calls her­self “Hank” to her close friends) is an intro­vert­ed child with an extreme­ly rich inner world. She loves music and is fas­ci­nat­ed by play­ing the cel­lo, but only for her­self, and only for her­self. On the title page, you can see Har­ri­et bow­ing to thank the audi­ence after her per­for­mance (of course, that ges­ture can also be seen as ask­ing the audi­ence for her reper­toire), but the audi­ence are just her two pup­pets, so in real­i­ty, they are also her­self.

Read­ers might ask, isn’t there some­thing wrong with a child who seems so “aloof,” play­ing only for her­self? Let’s set aside judg­ments of good and bad for now and con­sid­er this: does­n’t some­one so immersed in their music demon­strate a pro­found love for music? She loves music sim­ply for love, not for show­ing off or per­form­ing for oth­ers. This reminds me of Con­fu­cius’s lament: “Ancient schol­ars stud­ied for them­selves; mod­ern schol­ars study for oth­ers.” Whether Con­fu­cius was crit­i­ciz­ing mod­ern schol­ars for pur­su­ing knowl­edge pri­mar­i­ly for show­ing off or gain­ing a promi­nent posi­tion is hard to say; his “for oth­ers” might also refer to the pur­suit of prac­ti­cal appli­ca­tion. But what is cer­tain is that he great­ly admired ancient schol­ars because, in his view, they pur­sued knowl­edge for their own ben­e­fit. In short, this is true love! From this per­spec­tive, does­n’t Har­ri­et’s atti­tude towards music per­fect­ly align with the atti­tude of the “ancient schol­ars” whom Con­fu­cius admired towards learn­ing?

Return­ing to the pic­ture book, I can clear­ly feel the Steeds’ admi­ra­tion for Har­ri­et. In their eyes, she was a true artist, much like them­selves. Har­ri­et pos­sessed the same imag­i­na­tive capac­i­ty; she envi­sioned her every­day world as anoth­er kind of everyday—the every­day life of a musi­cian. Her bed­room became a small cab­in, sim­ple yet com­plete, pos­sess­ing every­thing a musi­cian need­ed, except for one thing: qui­et! (Per­haps it was sim­ply because a rest­less­ness still lin­gered with­in her?) The owl—the most com­mon ani­mal in the Steeds’ stories—always dis­rupt­ed the tran­quil­i­ty need­ed for a per­for­mance at cru­cial moments. Har­ri­et threw a teacup out the win­dow, scar­ing away the owl, but also knock­ing down the moon. From the moment the translu­cent moon appeared, the sto­ry pre­sent­ed a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent land­scape.

When Har­ri­et asked Mr. Moon to call her “Hank,” a pure friend­ship began. Yes, she was a daugh­ter her par­ents were incred­i­bly proud of; they had high expec­ta­tions of her and dot­ed on her. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, they did­n’t seem to under­stand her, at least not her pas­sion for music. A pas­sion for art does­n’t equate to iso­la­tion; it’s just that some­times true under­stand­ing is hard to find. Out of guilt and affec­tion for the Moon, Hank helped him ful­fill his earth­ly desires. They rowed out onto the lake, and the Moon sin­cere­ly said, “I love the sound of water drip­ping from the oars, and I love the chimes from the dis­tant buoy. I think you’re very lucky. There’s so much music down here; it’s so qui­et up here.” — Yes, Mr. Moon also loved music; he loved celes­tial music. There­fore, Hank was will­ing to play for him, only for him, just as Bo Ya was will­ing to play for Zi Qi. But Hank asked Mr. Moon to promise: to close his eyes and not cheer. As a kin­dred spir­it, it would only be for him­self.

I could­n’t help but think that Erin Stead was prob­a­bly an artist with a tem­pera­ment very sim­i­lar to Han­k’s. She used light oil paint and col­ored pen­cils to depict Har­ri­et’s (Han­k’s) spir­i­tu­al world, a semi-trans­par­ent world, hazy and indis­tinct, but full of vital­i­ty and fun. The bear hat­ter wore a Lei Feng hat, the wal­rus boat­man stood upright on his hind legs, and the owls worked togeth­er to pull the fish­ing net… How could chil­dren not love such a fun world? But what tru­ly touched the depths of the heart was that con­fi­dent, dream­like tran­quil­i­ty, the poet­ic beau­ty and the warmth of friend­ship flow­ing with­in this tran­quil­i­ty.

Pic­ture books like “Play­ing for Mr. Moon” can be con­sid­ered a rare gift to this increas­ing­ly noisy world. They allow us—whether chil­dren or adults—to see anoth­er pos­si­bil­i­ty: the pos­si­bil­i­ty of liv­ing qui­et­ly and poet­i­cal­ly.

Writ­ten by A‑Jia on April 9, 2019 in Bei­jing