Naked Babies [Paperback]

Anyone who has ever witnessed a baby escape from his mother's arms--sans clothing--and run wildly, or crawl as the case may be, about the house in what can only be described as a euphoric state knows that babies are really at their best when they're naked. No bonnets or booties to hold them in--just pure, blissful nakedness. In Naked Babies author Anna Quindlen and photographer Nick Kelsh expertly record this unique time in childhood when modesty means nothing at all. Quindlen's perceptive and personal essays are remarkable musings on motherhood and the amazing little miracles that babies are, while Kelsh's photographs are, well, amazing little miracles in their own right. Shot entirely in black-and-white, these are not cutesy, sentimental, or traditional photographs. Rather, Kelsh captures "specific aspects of babies--the perfection of a hand, the swirls of a cowlick, the smoothness of skin on the neck--and all are honest, exquisite, and invitingly tactile." Both "an unusual meditation and a wondrous book," Naked Babies is the perfect gift for the parent or the parent-to-be. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

In this intriguing book, Kelsh, a partner in the communications firm Kelsh Wilson Design, and Quindlen (Object Lessons) capture the essence of naked babyhood?Kelsh in exquisite black-and-white photographs of dozens of babies, Quindlen in an elegant essay in which she muses about "the sheer beauty of their baby bodies." Kelsh's pictures, often of simple details?hands, feet, ears, eyes, bottoms, navels?reveal the miracles of baby skin, tiny fingers and toes, limbs contorted into acrobatic poses. His babies are not merely cute but like soft sculptures, and they revel in their nakedness: one intently studies his penis, another claps his hands as he pees onto the ground. Quindlen's essay, which is perceptive and moving without being sentimental, is based on the premise that "babies are meant to be naked, as surely as they are meant to be nurtured and loved," and it perfectly complements the photographs. Her own children are well past the baby stage, but she remembers all about babies, from birthing room to first steps, and she concludes, "The strangest thing about having babies is that before you know it you have adults."
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

A portfolio of baby pictures from a "Day in the Life" photographer, with an essay by the beloved Quindlen.
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

When Quindlen quit writing her New York Times column not long ago, its devotees unleashed cacophonous keening over losing their regular dose of her distinctive blend of sentimentality, intellectuality, and political correctness. She wanted to devote more time to writing books. The scant text here is an early fruit of that dedication. It dispenses with intellectuality and p.c. in favor of indulging a perennial favorite among sentimentalists: going gaga over babies. Written to accompany Kelsh's lovely baby photos, it revives the Wordsworthian Romantic line on infancy ("trailing clouds of glory do we come") and extends it into the twenty-first century, with nary a nod to that old bugaboo, original sin, or to the God that even Wordsworth acknowledged. Well, theology might have been a pooper at this party (although Quindlen's intelligence will make some wish she had invited it for just a few moments), where the object is, after all, to just LOOK at those beautiful babies! Ray Olson --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Despite the publisher's protest to the contrary, this ode to the physical and spiritual perfection of babies is almost too cute for words. ``Babies are meant to be naked, as surely as they are meant to be nurtured and loved,'' writes Quindlen, novelist (One True Thing, 1994, etc.), former New York Times columnist, and popular chronicler of yuppie motherhood. And while photographer Kelsh may seem at first glance to have captured these naked babies in rarely photographed poses--they drool and cry and play with their wee-wees, they wrinkle and dimple in their rolls of fat--they are still undeniably cute. Even the isolated hand or toes or pair of eyes conveys the essence of adorableness. And, after all, why pretend that it could be otherwise? -- Copyright ©1996, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

In Naked Babies, Nick Kelsh and Anna Quindlen collaborate to produce a unique view of babies--one that owes nothing to tradition, sentimentality, or the cult of the cute. Unlike traditional baby photographs, Nick Kelsh's amazing black-and-white pictures focus on specific aspects of babies--the perfection of a hand, the swirls of a cowlick, the smoothness of skin on the neck--and all are honest, exquisite, and invitingly tactile. Anna Quindlen's essays are as graceful, snappy, perceptive, and personal as anything she has ever written. They muse on what it is about babies that causes our hearts to crinkle and fold: "The meaning of life is in them." You'll share some of the things that Quindlen has learned as a mother, such as: "From time to time, I would lie on the floor with my babies to see exactly what they were seeing when it looked as though they were just wasting time" and "The next time you're sitting in a meeting after three cups of coffee, badly needing to go to the bathroom but instead doodling dutifully, crossing your legs and watching the clock, remember that if you were a baby, you would have gone by now, and no one would be the wiser." Kelsh's photographs and Quindlen's text complement each other perfectly. Two masters of their craft have created an unusual meditation and wondrous book--a totally original gift for every parent or parent-to-be.

Nick Kelsh is the second of five children born to Joyce and Carroll Kelsh of Fargo, North Dakota. He learned about f-stops and shutter speeds on the Leica his father brought home from World War II. He is the author and/or photographer of nine books, including How to Photograph Your Baby and a partner in the communications firm Kelsh Wilson Design. Kelsh showed no apparent special talent as a baby. Anna Quindlen was born in Philadelphia in 1952, the first of five children of Prudence and Robert V. Quindlen. She was an exceptionally large baby with a full head of hair. In the years since, she has had three large babies of her own, worked for The New York Times, won the Pulitzer Prize, and written five books, including the best-selling novels Object Lessons and One True Thing.