A couple of days ago as I pen these words, I was on a Zoom call with a drone designer friend in Turkey (I won’t mention his name because… well, let’s just say that—as rich in art and history as Turkey is—it’s currently one of those countries where it’s generally better if your name is left unmentioned).

I happened to mention that my wife (Gigi the Gorgeous) and I were planning on going to see the new Paddington in Peru movie when it comes to the theaters in a couple of weeks. We are going with our neighbors and their three little girls (10, 8, and 5), which means I won’t stand out like a sore thumb like I would if I went alone.

“Who is Paddington?” asked my friend. I was flabbergasted (my flabber has rarely been so gasted). I could not believe my ears. I cannot imagine a world in which kids don’t grow up reading Paddington. My parents bought me the first book in the series, A Bear Called Paddington, when I was about 8 years old, and I never looked back.

So, I told my friend all about Paddington. Then I told him about all the other books I read when I was a kid, like the Just William series by Richmal Crompton, and the Famous Five and Secret Seven series by Enid Blyton. I still have all these collections on the shelves here in my office.

I explained how fun and innocent these tales were; and how reading them made me feel happy; and how—when you finished reading one—it seemed like the world was as it should be.

I’m afraid to say that my friend burst out laughing. It wasn’t a happy laugh (it was the other kind). When I inquired why, he said that an example of a book kids read at school in Turkey was Diyet by Ömer Seyfettin. Suffice it to say that if you click on the link, although the cover shows a cartoon-like illustration, that illustration is of a man about to chop his own hand off with an axe.

In a crunchy nutshell, the story follows a poor but skilled stonemason named Mehmet who finds himself in desperate need of work. A wealthy man hires him to build a structure but requires a guarantee—something Mehmet, being poor, cannot provide. In a dramatic turn, Mehmet offers his right hand as a guarantee, promising that if he fails to complete the job, he will sacrifice it. Mehmet works tirelessly and completes the job with perfection. However, due to jealousy and deception, he is falsely accused of failing his duty. Holding himself to his word, he chops off his own hand to fulfill the guarantee.

Apparently, the reason adults in Turkey in general (and the authorities in particular) think this is a good tale for young people to read is that it focuses on the concepts of honor and integrity—Mehmet values his word and honor above his own well-being.

Well, you can call me an “old-fashioned fuddy-duddy” if you will (I've been called worse), but if I were poised to read a bed-time story to a kid, and the only options were Diyet or Paddington, then I’m afraid Paddington would win hands down (sorry Mehmet—no pun intended).