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September 2, 2007

You Have the Right to Remain Silent

By tradition the Supreme Court begins on the first Monday of October and I think it is worthwhile reflecting in advance of this as to how we discuss law and fairness and justice with children. What are the books that can open their eyes to fairness, justice and the legal system?

While there is certainly a popular perception that perhaps we have a surfeit of lawyers and a deficit of justice, we sometimes overlook just how effective, even with all its flaws, our legal system can be. In any process serving 300 million people there will be lots of horrendous miscarriages as well as farcical decisions, at least in absolute numbers. But when you consider the importance of this third branch of our government and look at how it is done elsewhere, I believe that we have a pretty impressive system that serves many often conflicting objectives reasonably well.

It is unfortunate then that, from the perspective of children's literature, we have relatively few great titles that focus on, are set in, or in some way pivot on the law. For young adults there are a few books such as To Kill and Mockingbird, but among picture books and the independent reader level, the pickings are quite slim.

This lack of awareness about the intricacies of the justice system shows up in many ways. Sally related to me the conversation she had with her cub-scout den a year or so ago. Maybe ten boys about 8-9 years old. In pursuit of one of their merit badges, they are covering the structures of the US government, the three branches, how it is all laid out in the Constitution as amended, etc. She gets to the Bill of Rights, explaining what it is, why the first ten amendments were added, etc. "Now, can anyone identify some of your rights under the Constitution?"

The first, unanimously and most loudly proclaimed right?

"You have the right to remain silent!"

The founding fathers were twisting in their graves that day.

But the dearth of books about the legal system at the picture book and independent reader level may not matter so much as the legal system and laws are really just the means towards the end: justice. Anybody who has young children or has seen the interaction between young siblings, knows just how keenly focused children can be on justice. I'll grant you that their focus is often asymmetrical - they are keen for justice to be wreaked on others and less interested in their potential role in the familial system of justice.

This interest in justice is not simply a philosophical or even a self-interested focus. There have been numerous experiments (sociological, psychological and even economic) in the past ten or fifteen years indicating that a sense of justice is an inherent feature of human nature, something that we have evolved. In a series of experiments attempting to determine just how rational human decision making is, the professors discovered to their surprise that, in fact, people will choose to forgo benefits to themselves in order punish those they see as having transgressed fair dealing.

One of our most imperative and difficult challenges as parents is inculcating a sense of fairness and justice in our children. There is no Philadelphia lawyer so adapt at teasing out some perceived inconsistency in the rules as a child. And they are manipulative little beasts. Once they understand the rule, they then want to understand how they can work the rule to their benefit.

It is early in our stay in Australia, still the first year. It is July, midwinter, and we are headed from Sydney up to the Blue Mountains for the first time, all in the Toyota Tarago, off on our first family adventure of exploration together in Australia. Baby Brother is in his baby seat all buckled in. Big Brother sits beside him in the second row, to keep him company, to reassure him because of their closeness. Sister, two years old and all sweet equanimity, sits in the back row, so distant from the front, safely buckled into her little Winnie the Pooh booster seat.

We have been driving for forty minutes or so. Not long enough to even get fully out of the city yet, but long enough for everyone to begin to get snacky. First it is "Mama, can I have a drink?" Then they all need a drink. Shortly after that it is "Daddy, can I have some crackers?" from Big Brother and of course Baby Brother needs some too (because of their closeness). Meanwhile, in the back, from the Pooh seat, all is quiet. Until we hear a sweet little voice, not pleading, just asking, "Daddy, can I have some candy?"

"No!"

Then quiet again. A reflective quiet.

"Can I have some if I cry?"


Despite there being few books that explicitly link young children to the law and legal systems, the other way to think about it is that virtually all of the older stories and fairy tales, are all about justice and fairness. Cinderella perhaps might be the archetype. Poor daughter loses loving mother and is oppressed by step-sisters. Cinderella's beauty is usually explicitly tied to her moral goodness; she does what is right and without complaint. The step-sisters are self-centered, self-indulgent and neglectful of all others. And therefore they are also ugly. With all its trappings, it is still a story of the good person triumphing over adversity and bad behaviors all around.

Regardless of what the sciences are gradually revealing, parents can see children wanting to understand the rules almost from the start. In fact I think their craving is two-fold: what is the rule and what are the consequences to breaking that rule. Fables and folktales are usually the vehicle for delivering the rules. Pick any one of your favorite fables and it is almost always about a basic rule of living; what you should do or what you shouldn't do (in fables think of the busy ant and the lazy grasshopper, in folktales think of hardworking brick building pig versus the fates of his porcine siblings). Fairy tales are often more about the consequences. Somebody follows the rules and is rewarded and/or somebody that broke the rules is punished.

And the punishments can, to an adult's eyes, be both comprehensive and terrible. The Grimm Brother's fairy tales are often viewed as almost unsuitably, well, grim. I think one reason that they retain their power with children though, is that there is little ambiguity. Bad things happen to good people (just as often children perceive happens to them when they transgress some unknown rule) but ultimately good wins, bad loses and usually loses in some satisfyingly gruesome way. There is an extreme example of this in the Struwwelpeter stories. This book was originally published in Germany in the 1850's and involves a series of rhymed story vignettes in which some child breaks the rules (plays with matches for example) and something truly terrible thing happens (they are burned to ashes except for their pretty red shoes). It remains among the pantheon of classic children's stories in Germany and in some parts of the US. Adults without children look at it and think "How barbaric". Parents with children usually find that it is an unexpectedly preferred book despite its harshness.

I don't think you can read too many fables, folktales and myths to young children. You are laying so much of the groundwork for their understanding of what is and what is not appropriate. It is why I am also somewhat dubious about the class of stories that take popular folktales and give them a twist so that the hero doesn't win and the villain does. These tales can occasionally be done cleverly but more often are lazy, sophomoric endeavors that undermine the clarity that kids seek. If used at all, best used with children that are already well grounded in the classics and can understand that the cynical twist is just that: a cynical twist and not the norm.

Picture Books

Aesop's Fables by Aesop and illustrated by Fritz Kredel
Aesop's Fables by Aesop and D.L. Ashliman and illustrated by Arthur Rackham
Aesop's Fables by Aesop and illustrated by Lisbeth Zwerger
Aesop's Fables by Aesop and illustrated by Don Daily
Aesop's Fables by Aesop and illustrated by Helen Ward
Unwitting Wisdom by Aesop and illustrated by Michael Hague
Han Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen and illustrated by Michael Hague
The World of Peter Rabbit The Complete Collection of Original Tales 1-23 by Beatrix Potter
The World of Peter Rabbit The Original Tales 1-12 by Beatrix Potter
The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter
Rapunzel by Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm and illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky
Mother Goose by Michael Hague
Hansel and Gretel by Rika Lesser, Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm and illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky

Independent Readers

Andersen's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen and illustrated by Arthur Szyk
Uncle Wiggily's Storybook by Howard R. Garis
Grimm's Fairy Tales by Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm and illustrated by Arthur Rackham
More Tales from Grimm by Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm and illustrated by Wanda Gag
The Complete Tales of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris and illustrated by Barbara McClintock and A.B. Frost
The Favorite Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris
Struwwelpeter by Heinrich Hoffmann
Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire's Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire
Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling and illustrated by the author
The Crimson Fairy Book by Andrew Lang
The Blue Fairy Book by Andrew Lang
The Green Fairy Book by Andrew Lang

Young Adult

Aesop The Complete Fables by Aesop and edited by Olivia and Robert Temple
Blind Justice by Bruce Alexander
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Mythology by Edith Hamilton
Tales of Greek Heroes by Roger Lancelyn Green
The Adventures of Robin Hood by Roger Lancelyn Green
The Juniper Tree by Jacob Grim and illustrated by Maurice Sendak
To Kill a Mocking Bird by Harper Lee

September 9, 2007

Animals in our lives

Animals are not for everyone, no doubt about it. For children they can be frightening, messy, intimidating, rambunctious, scary, clumsy, and terrifying. But they can also be one of the most important elements in growing up. First you know your parents, then siblings, then family, then friends, an ever widening circle of comprehending that there are all sorts of ways of understanding the world. And then you get to pets - how do they understand the world that you as a child know and how do you understand them? When there is a pet, there is also responsibility, caring and (if it's a dog) an unrelentingly loyal friend. OK, maybe cats too.

If you are lucky, animals are not only pets. They are the fellow creatures you find all around us; insects, birds, neighbor's pets, wild animals living in the neighborhood, etc. They remind us of the rest of the world out there from which it is too easy to become divorced and isolated at our cost and deprivation.

I don't have any data to support it but it is my impression that children that have grown up with pets and have familiarity with animals, wild or domesticated, have a more settled and adaptable view of the world - they have a better comprehension of the scope for complicated relationships and for misunderstandings and how to adapt to the unexpected.

As we become ever more urbanized, this creeping isolation from nature can become far more pervasive than is easily realized. A number of years ago when we moved to Australia, (which, despite the images of the outback, is one of the most urbanized countries in the world with 80% of the population living in a handful of cities), I was struck by the lack of knowledge most people had about their surroundings. Everything was of course startlingly new to us. In reading up on plant, bird and animal life in advance I became somewhat familiar with the basic bird types. One afternoon in the first couple or three weeks, one of our neighbors was over visiting and as I looked out over the garden I saw one of the many types of local parrot fly across and alight in the bushes. I knew it had to be either a rainbow lorikeet or a crimson rosella. Each of these birds is brightly colored with various raiments of red, green and/or yellow and blue. I asked our neighbor if she recognized the bird. Wanting to be helpful she stared at the bird for a few moments. Being a true Sydney resident, she then offered that it might be a butcher bird. Now the one thing I did know was that a butcher bird was a big grey bird and there was no way that this flying palette could be a butcher bird. The second thing I now knew was just how urbanized Australia had become.

Animals in children's books seem to usually fall into two categories. There are those stories where the animal is an animal: Misty of Chincoteague, for example or Call of the Wild. Then there are those even more numerous stories where the animal is really a human in cuddlier format: Wait Till the Moon is Full or Wind in the Willows.

There are great books in both categories but their effect is distinctly different. In this essay I am really focusing on the former category; what are the stories where a child begins to learn about the world of animals and how they live?

Even when dealing with animals as animals, there is also the risk of anthropomorphizing them; imputing to them feelings and thoughts that we have no way of knowing whether they actually possess. There was a science fiction writer in the fifties and sixties in the UK, by the name of John Wyndham (abbreviated from his gloriously English full name John Wyndham Parkes Lucas Beynon Harris) best known as the author of Day of the Triffids. In most of his science fiction novels he demonstrated a subtle thought process about framing his stories. While there was an element of fantasy, the real story usually had to do with the central question - How do we understand another life which is incomprehensible to us? How do we connect with the Other, when we are mutually unintelligible?

This is one of the conundrums with animals for children. Animals can seem to be like us in so many ways but we cannot know that they are. Crockett Johnson has a wonderful tale in his Ellen's Lion that tackles this fact head on and is worth quoting at length.

Sad Interlude

The lion lay stretched out on the soft arm of the big chair. Ellen sat on the footstool and stared at him silently for several minutes before she spoke, in her saddest voice.
"You poor thing."
"Me?" Said the lion.
"Yes," Ellen said to him, and she gently stroked his imitation fur. "From now on I'm going to be very kind to you."
"Are you?" the lion said. "Why?"
"Because you're a poor sad old lion."
"I'm not old." said the lion.
"You're not new, either," said Ellen, looking at two places where the lion's seams were coming apart and at the stain, that never quite had washed out, from the time he fell off Ellen's head into her plate of tomato soup.
"And I certainly am not sad," said the lion.
"You don't look happy," Ellen said.
"I'm not," said the lion.
"Don't you have to be one or the other?" said Ellen. "I do. Right now I'm being very sad, in case you didn't notice."
"You've made it plain," the lion said.
"I'm sympathizing with you. Because you looked so sad ----"
"I'm not sad!" said the lion.
"You're angry," said Ellen. "I've upset you---"
"I am never angry," said the lion. "I am never upset. For that matter, I am never in a good humor either. All this talk of sympathy for my feelings is silly, Ellen. I am a stuffed animal."
"I know," said Ellen, sighing. "That's the saddest part of all."
"Sentimental nonsense!" said the lion, and as Ellen stared at him with eyes that were filling with tears, he went on rapidly. "I'm never sad and never happy, never hungry or never full, never foolish or clever, or good or bad, or this or that, or anything else you imagine me to be—"
"You poor thing," Ellen said, slowly shaking her head. "You haven't any mother, either, have you?"
"What has that got to do with it?" said the lion.
"It just occurred to me," said Ellen, with a sob.
"Now you are being ridiculous," the lion said. "You know stuffed animals don't have mothers. We don't need them."
"You're so brave about everything," Ellen said, dabbing at her tears with her handkerchief.
"I'm neither brave nor cowardly," said the lion.
"You're admiration is as foolish as your pity---"
"All right," said Ellen, wiping away the last of her tears and opening a picture book. "I won't sympathize with you any more if you don't like it."
"I neither like it nor dislike it---"
"Oh, be quiet," Ellen said, without looking up from her book.
She was reading a very sad story about a little tree that was lost in the woods. She read it right to the end without saying another word.

©1959 by Crockett John


The Velveteen Rabbit the lion ain't.

Even in the most urban environment there are still books to open a door to the world around us and begin to expose children to that which is still wild, the unknown and even the unknowable. Following are some wonderful books about animals which children love.

Picture Books

Big Red Barn by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Felicia Bond
Home for a Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Garth Williams
Wait Till the Moon is Full by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Garth Williams
The Kingfisher Treasury of Pet Stories by Suzanne Carnell and illustrated by Michael Reid
Shep by Sneed B. Collard III and illustrated by Joanna Yardley
In the Small, Small Pond by Denise Flemming
The Big Snow by Berta and Elmer Hader
Ellen's Lion by Crockett Johnson
The Legend of Sleeping Bear by Kathy-jo Wargin and illustrated by Gijsbert van Fankenhuyzen
Floss by Kim Lewis
Carolina's Story by Donna Rathmell and photographs by Barbara J. Bergwerf
Hachiko by Pamela S. Turner and illustrated by Yan Nascimbene

Independent Reader

The Good Dog by Avi
The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford
Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo
Black Stallion by Walter Farley
Brighty of the Grand Canyon by Marguerite Henry and illustrated by Dennis Wesley
Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry and illustrated by Dennis Wesley
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot
Pagoo by Holling C. Holling
Minn of the Mississippi by Holling C. Holling
Seabird by Holling C. Holling
Call of the Wild by Jack London and illustrated by Wendell Minor
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams Bianco and illustrated by William Nicholson
Go Home! The True Story of James the Cat by Libby Phillips Meggs
A Dog's Life by Ann M. Martin
Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat
Black Beauty by Anna Sewel and illustrated by Fritz Eichenberg

Young Adult

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell

September 16, 2007

To Boldly Go . . .

To Boldly Go . . . - There are two forms of exploration, one mental and the other physical. The mental side of exploration is captured by the physicist Schrödinger's (of Schrödinger's cat fame) comment that "The task is, not so much to see what no one has yet seen; but to think what nobody has yet thought, about that which everybody sees."

Kids can be extraordinarily innovative and perceptive explorers in Schrödinger's sense. They see everything with a freshness that is often hard for adults to recapture. Their constant questions of "why?" are often not so annoying because of the repetition but because they force us to answer questions we have either never answered for ourselves or answered so long ago that we have either forgotten or we realize the answer we had wasn't a particularly good one. Hence the ubiquity of the utilitarian "because I said so".

In Schrödinger's sense, one of the very first places of exploration for children is language and speech followed shortly afterwards by reading. Ruth Krauss's A Hole is to Dig entertainingly recaptures the innovativeness of thought and speech that children can so easily display.

One of my sons, for whatever reason, has a particular affinity for unconsciously manipulating language to serve his ends. A number of years ago when he was not more than two or three, his older sister was invited to a birthday party. I took them both over and deposited sister in the backyard with the celebrant and the rest of the party. On the way out the family's Jack Russell terrier came bounding over to us, jumping it seemed all the way to my waist, begging for attention. This little india-rubber ball of energy was impossible to ignore. Youngest son squatted down on his three year old haunches and started petting and cooing over the dog who just loved the attention, wiggling, twisting, licking. Not able to contain himself, the terrier jumped up to lick my son on the face just as he was bending down open-mouthed. I saw my son leap back with a squawk, blurting out "He licked me in my tongue-pit." A tongue-pit - well, I can't deny that that isn't a perfectly good description of your mouth but it would never have occurred to me to describe it as such.

But what about the more traditional exploration, the physical movement into the world to discover that which is not commonly known, that which has been forgotten or that which is unknown to the explorer. Though not explicitly called out as "exploration", that sense of discovery and wonderment is an integral part of so much of our canon of great children's books. It takes only a moment to start racking up the instances where exploration sets the stage for the main story but also establishes the engagement with the reader and the emotional momentum. Think of the Lucy, Edward, Susan and Peter exploring the professor's mysterious old house in the Chronicle's of Narnia, similarly of Mary exploring her uncle's estate in The Secret Garden. Many of the shipwreck-type stories are, at their core, as much about exploration and discovery, as they are about survival. Think of Swiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, Mysterious Island, Coral Island, etc. What is it on this island that I can find to help me survive?

This near-environment exploration is intimately familiar to most children, often associated with visits to grandparents and other relatives. I can recall with crystal clarity the sensory and emotional excitement of arriving at either of my grandparent's homes. There was certainly the excitement of seeing them again, the smell of their houses, the unpacking, and all the other routines. But within 24 hours there was a careful skirmishing line of myself and siblings combing the garage, the tool shed in the back corner of the garden, the attic, the toy drawer in the back room and so on. These things that were different in some way to that to which we were accustomed or were likely to have changed since last being explored had a magnetic quality that drew us to them.

And the more traditional stories of exploration of land, sea and space? At one time those were much more prominent in children's literature than they are now. I am afraid we have fallen into a sloppy sentimentality and a self-indulgent censoriousness about the carnage and destruction that can follow from exploration. It is too easy institutionally for us to hold ourselves up as moral paragons by condemning the past, ignoring the great probability that we will, in turn, be condemned as primitives in the future.

Which is not to say that there isn't a delicate line to be trod between naively wanting everything to remain the same and never change (the path that generally ensures there are no short-term discomforts, but which leads to stagnation and ultimate dissolution) and boldly understating the potentially destructive impact of exploration and discovery. The Victorians were guilty of the latter sin in their children's books of exploration - the white man came and everything was better. But what adventurous and gripping tales some of those books were. Today, we are at the far arc (or at least I hope it is at the furthest extent of its arc) of the swinging pendulum; when we discuss courageous exploration, it is so often with a negative connotation and condemnation for the consequences which were either inevitable or unpredictable.

With the whole world of genetic science unleashing new discoveries virtually everyday and, in the process, helping to reveal our own past explorations, older young adults have a plethora of really intriguing books such as The Seven Daughters of Eve, Nicholas Wade's Before the Dawn, Recovering the Lost History of Our Ancestors, or even the more traditional historical narratives such as Felipe Fernandez-Armesto's Pathfinders A Global History of Exploration, to read. In Fernandez-Armesto's book, he is explicit about the dynamic of divergence and convergence - we all burst out of Africa a hundred thousand years ago and spilled into the rest of the world over the next fifty thousand years, then spent fifty thousand years filling up those newly occupied continents and evolving to our local circumstances. Then, in the past couple of thousand years we have begun to converge upon one another again. While the convergence is often hugely productive in terms of intellectual progress (think of Hellenism) it is also immensely and unavoidably destructive as we introduce our germs (along with our ideas) to one another when we don't have uniform resistance to those germs.

Below are a list of the above mentioned books as well as some of the more gripping narrative tales of physical exploration around the world. Couch that exploration in whatever moral terms are most appropriate, but I think it is worthwhile for children to not only understand the history itself, but to see the examples courageous (and yes, greedy etc.) exploration, without which we would all be poorer.

Keats in three stanzas captures much of what I am attempting to tackle here: the wonder of what is revealed through exploration (goodly states and kingdoms seen): the exploration through the mind (till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold); and the physical exploration (like stout Cortez).

On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer John Keats

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet never did I breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He star'd at the Pacific - and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise -
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.


Picture Books

A Hole is to Dig by Ruth Krauss and illustrated by Maurice Sendak
Lewis and Clark by Steven Kroll and illustrated by Richard Williams
One Morning in Maine written and illustrated by Robert McCloskey

Independent Readers

Coral Island by R.M. Ballyntine
The Incredible Journey of Lewis and Clarke by Rhoda Blumberg
York's Adventures with Lewis and Clark: An African-American's Part in the Great Expedition by Rhoda Blumberg
Uncommon Traveler: Mary Kingsley in Africa by Don Brown
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and illustrated by Tasha Tudor
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe and illustrated by N.C. Wyeth
Dive! My Adventures in the Deep Frontier by Sylvia A. Earle
Seaman's Journal On the Trail with Lewis and Clark by Patti Reeder Eubank
Around the World in a Hundred Years From Henry the Navigator to Magellan by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Anthony Bacon Venti
Where Do You Think You Are Going, Christopher Columbus? by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Margot Tomes
Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
Ferdinand Magellan by Milton Meltzer
Streams to the River, River to the Sea: A Novel of Sacagawea by Scott O'Dell
Space Exploration by Carole Stott and illustrated by Steve Gorton
Mysterious Island by Jules Verne

Young Adult

The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition by Caroline Alexander
Over the Edge of the World by Laurence Bergreen
Lost City of the Inca's by Hiram Bingham
Pathfinders by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto
The Explorers by Tim Flannery
Dragon Hunter Roy Chapman Andrews and the Central Asiatic Expeditions by Charles Gallenkamp
Endurance Shackleton's Incredible Voyage by Alfred Lansing
1421 The Year China Discovered the World by Gavin Menzies
Antarctica by Walter Dean Myers
The Ice Master: The Doomed 1913 Voyage of the Karluk by Jennifer Niven
Travels Into the Interior of Africa by Mungo Park
Seven Daughters of Eve by Bryan Sykes
Before the Dawn by Nicholas Wade
Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss and illustrated by Louis John Rhead

September 23, 2007

Stories from England

This week's essay is supposed to be about English Stories. Where to begin? I feel like I have gone fishing for whales with a length of tooth floss and a bobby pin. I think it might have been in one of the Flashman books, Flashman at the Charge, by George MacDonald Fraser, where the anti-hero Flashman caustically visualizes the British generals, having been told that Britain has now declared war, looking at a map of Russia, and imagines the conversation going something like this.

General 1: Well, I suppose we need to invade.

Pensive silence as they examine the map

General 2: Deuced big country, what?

At least that's how I recollect it. And certainly that's how it feels thinking about the width and depth of British contributions to children's literature. To winnow the forest a little, I will for the time being omit highlighting the obvious authors (Beatrix Potter, Arthur Ransome, Lewis Carroll, R.L. Stevenson, J.A. Barrie, Thomas Malory, George Orwell, Anna Sewell, Charles Dickens, Jonathan Swift, Mary Shelley, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Arthur Conan Doyle, A.A. Milne, Rudyard Kipling, Thomas Hughes, John Bunyan, Roald Dahl, Hugh Lofting, P.L. Travers, etc.) and focus on others that are as well established in the British national mental attic but are not as well known here.

Straight out of the gate though, I would have to observe that as I think about it, there are some differences in the traditions of children's reading between Britain and the US. I lived in England in the mid and late 60's, and around about Europe through the 70's so much of my reading was either directly or indirectly influenced by England.

One of the differences that I have observed is that England had, and still to a degree, has a distinctive slice of children's comics quite different from that in the US. There used to be at least three types of comics. There were action comics like Victor and Eagle which were targeted primarily to boys. These comics were actually a compilation of comic strips. In other words, there were a series of stories in each edition, all rendered as comics but each with different art work and a different feel. Almost all of the strips were action stories of one sort or another. WWII stories were still big, as were space strips, humorous strips about school, etc.

There was another category of comics that really differed more by taste (or the absence thereof) than anything else. The ones I recall were Beano and Dandy. You would not mistake them for high-brow or improving literature, but if you were six or eight years, you couldn't find much that was funnier. Beano and Dandy were still primarily pitched to boys but I think there was a pretty high cross-readership. Think of the Three Stooges or Groucho Marx in comic strip form and you have the measure of it.

Finally there was the high end of the market - magazines like Look and Learn and World of Wonder. These had a few action strips but also serials about all sorts of things: unsolved crimes, mysteries at sea, castles, serializations of classics, famous airplanes, etc., all wonderfully illustrated. I loved the World of Wonder and looked forward to its weekly arrival. I have heard it speculated that parents may have liked it better than kids because it was "improving". That could be, but I certainly enjoyed them anyway.

So there was a kind of hierarchy of unapproved reading from barely redeemable to almost respectable that at least supplemented if not substantially displaced picture books. Lamentably, and curiously, all of these are gone now except for the perennial Beano and Dandy. Having lived in England recently, we still receive those magazines - primitive as the humor might be all three of the kids still enjoy them. As a parenthetical note, please see the link to a group that is bringing back editions of Look and Learn.

For whatever reason, I don't remember any picture books from my time as a child in England other than the ubiquitous comic annuals. I am sure there must have been some but I cannot really speak to them. What there is, is a plethora of wonderful books that haven't made it across the ocean (obviously many have as well) that are quintessentially English. Unfortunately in most instances only one or two titles of a series are available over here, but we are working to make more available in the coming months.

One of the more prolific authors, (if I recall correctly, responsible for more than 700 titles over her lifetime) was Enid Blyton who repeatedly wrote series of books that were both iconic of their time but despite later, politically sensitive criticism, stubbornly remained and remain popular today. These included Famous Five and Secret Seven, each series consisting of twenty or more titles, the number referring to the number of friends in the respective mystery solving teams. Famous Five was sort of an advanced Learn to Read series. They were narrative stories but at a simple level well geared to early reading. Secret Seven followed the same format but at a more advanced reading level. Blyton was responsible for all sorts of other iconic series as well such as Noddy, The Magic Faraway Tree series, The Wishing Chair series, etc.

For those of your children smitten with the idea of English boarding schools from the Harry Potter books, Blyton wrote three separate series all set in girls' boarding schools, Malory Towers, St. Claire's, and the Naughtiest Girl. None of these are available right now in the US, but we are working to make them available.

And of course there were the stories that were inescapably tinged by imperialism, anathema to many today but also fascinating in their evocation of a time and place. There are two that are top of mind, the first being Captain W.E. Johns and his Biggles series. As described in Clare Morrall's article in Slightly Foxed, Johns was a pilot in World War I who later became a prolific author (169 books of which 104 were in the Biggles series). The titles tell it all The Camels are Coming, Biggles Flies East, Biggles in Africa, Biggles in Borneo, etc. As Morrall summarizes it, "There is still something pleasing about the simplicity of the stories in our cynical age - plenty of non-stop action with no worries about psychological damage or post-traumatic stress syndrome. There is no ambivalence. We know who should win, and we know that they will."

Another writer of imperial vintage was G.A Henty who concentrated on children's fiction, producing more than 120 works in the course of his life (December 8, 1832 - November 16, 1902). Most of his works were of general historical fiction (The Cat of Bubastes, A Tale of Ancient Egypt; A Knight of the White Cross, A Tale of the Siege of Rhodes; Through Russian Snows, A Story of Napoleon's Retreat from Moscow; With Lee in Virginia, A Story of the American Civil War, etc.), and many were tales of the Empire, such as With Clive in India, The Beginnings of an Empire; The Dash For Khartoum, A Tale of the Nile Expedition; A Final Reckoning, A Tale of Bush Life in Australia; To Herat and Cabul, A Story of the First Afghan War, etc. As with Biggles, you wouldn't anticipate moral ambiguity, self-doubt, debilitating sensitivity to the inner motivations of your opponent. What you get, serving after serving, is a brave but modest hero seeking to do the decent thing. The names change but the motivation remains the same. Fortunately many of Henty's books are still in print and very popular among those seeking good adventure stories with a dash of history.

We featured Edward Arizzone on July 22nd, whose Tim series is iconic of that period, perhaps 1930-1960. His cousin, Christiana Brand, wrote and he illustrated, another classic, Nurse Matilda.

From an earlier muscular imperial period there is of course Rider Haggard whose story telling capabilities ensure that the stories are still well-read today. Such titles as King Solomon's Mines (which I recently re-read), She, and Allan Quartermain, remain in print with others periodically coming back.

Denys Watkins-Pitchford wrote under the pseudonym BB. He also illustrated his books. The greater part of his works were outdoor books for adults pertaining to countryside pursuits, hunting, and fishing. However, his most iconic book was for children, Little Grey Men, a story centered on the last gnomes in England.

John Buchan, was a man of action and affairs (Governor General of Canada for five years, an elder of his church, a journalist and politician) as well as an accomplished author credited with founding the spy thriller genre with Thirty-Nine Steps.

Arrgh! I have to stop and yet there is still Orlando the Marmalade Cat to discuss, C.S. Forester, Ladybird Books, Puffin books, Elephant Bill, E. Nesbit, Charles Kingsley and The Water Babies, Michael Bond and the Paddington Bear series, and so much else. All in good time I suppose, but what sweet pickings.


Independent Reader

Flashman at the Charge by George MacDonald Fraser Highly Recommended
The Island of Adventure by Enid Blyton Suggested
The Mountain of Adventure and The Ship of Adventure by Enid Blyton Suggested
A Knight of the White Cross by G.A. Henty Suggested
The Cat of Bubastes by G.A. Henty Suggested
The Dash for Khartoum by G.A. Henty Suggested
With Lee in Virginia by G.A. Henty Suggested
Little Tim And the Brave Sea Captain by Edward Ardizzone Highly Recommended
Nurse Matilda by Edward Ardizzone Recommended
Allan Quartermain by H. Rider Haggard Suggested
King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard and illustrated by James Danly Highly Recommended
She by H. Rider Haggard and illustrated by Maurice Greiffenhagen and Charles H. Kerr Recommended
The Little Grey Men by BB (Denys Watkins-Pitchford) Recommended
The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan Recommended
The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley Recommended
A Bear Called Paddington by Michael Bond Highly Recommended

September 30, 2007

Scary Stories

The_Scream_Edvard_Munch_1893.jpg
The Scream by Edvard Munch (1893)

Fear - such a natural response to the unknown and yet one that is also so easily perverted. This is one of those areas among many in children's literature, where there is a fine line to be trodden and where there is likely to be dispute among reasonable people as to where the line ought to be drawn. Debilitating fear is just as dangerous as uninformed fearlessness and vice-versa.

Like the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland, it takes practice to believe in impossible things:

"I can't believe that!" said Alice. "Can't you?" the Queen said in a pitying tone. "Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes." Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said: "one can't believe impossible things." "I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, Lewis Carroll

One impossible thing I believe is that children ought to be able to have a childhood in which they are free of adults' pre-occupations, phobias, over-indulgences, over-involvement and micro-management.

Another impossible thing I choose to believe is that children are better off learning through mistakes early and as children rather than later as adults. That fear in moderation can be a good thing.

Yet a third impossible thing I believe is that children will do what they do and yet parents are obligated to provide tutelage and guidance to their children.

And finally, most improbably, I believe that all three things can be achieved simultaneously and without too many broken bones.

I am not up to six impossible beliefs before breakfast but I am working on it.

One of the lessons I have always worked to instill in our children is an understanding of the difference between instinctive fear and conscious concern. There are some fears and repulsions that just part of our human and biological heritage: snakes, heights, rotten flesh, the dark, the strange/different/foreign, etc. Our bodies tell us there is a problem that we should shy away from and usually force us to do something about it long before our minds have even begun to acknowledge the danger. We need to respect the long millennia of learning encoded into our bodies, but also to use our brains. We open ourselves to all sorts of disasters when we respond to instinct alone, but we ignore instinct at our own peril.

Because of the shape of the Australian coastline, many of their beaches are cursed with strong rip-tides and undertow. These conditions can be hazardous even for strong swimmers. When we lived in Australia, we enjoyed swimming at the beach and needed the children to be concerned and alert, but did not want to frighten them away from swimming. Hence our constant refrain: respect the water but don't fear it, an admonition that is equally applicable to all our instinctive fears.

Beyond striking this balance, between instinctive fear and dismissive disregard, there is also the challenge of what scary things should children be exposed to at what points in time. It is a precarious judgment because it has little to do with calendar age and everything to do with life experience and conceptual maturity. We have all read, even as adults, a story which introduced some disturbing idea that perhaps gripped us at the time of the reading but then left us with disturbed sleep or nightmares later.

I recollect two such experiences. Once, when I was six or seven, we had returned home to Tulsa to visit family. We were staying in an apartment. For whatever reason I had been allowed to watch some TV and on came a 1930s Frankenstein movie in black and white. I was gripped. The spine tingling anticipation of disaster was wonderful. I don't recall being afraid of Frankenstein the creature, but I do remember the nightmares over the next few weeks. The nightmares weren't about creatures or death or being brought back to life - they were about the idea of one's brain being put into another body. A dissonant conceptual fear. I just wasn't ready to grapple with that concept.

Equally disturbing but for entirely different reasons, was the night I stayed up into the small hours of the morning reading. I was probably about twelve or thirteen. It was past lights out but, not having read him before, I had just that day plunged into Sherlock Holmes and was in the first rush of consumption. One story led to another and to another. I hoped that if I kept my bedroom door closed and the light covered, perhaps my parents wouldn't notice when they come to bed. And they didn't. But fate always has something in store for you. For me it was finishing The Speckled Band at 1am. Oh what a great story. And oh how hard to get to sleep with that image of the snake slithering between rooms. Not that there were any snakes in Sweden in the mid-winter. Not that there were any vents between rooms. There was no rational basis for fear. But somehow, reading that story illicitly in the small hours of the morning made it all that much more disturbing.

The final decision on what scary stories are appropriate for which children has to be made by the person closest to the child. External advice can be given only in the broadest brush strokes. Small children are the easiest candidates for whom to find scary stories. Their fear portfolio is pretty much limited to those instinctive fears and their life experience precludes much sophisticated forecasting of what will happen next. Pretty much a surprise event at the end, delivered loudly, is the perfect scary story.

It becomes increasingly difficult to choose exactly the right balance between instinctive fear and deeply psychological fear as children grow older. There is a lot of material out there that is simply crudely terrifying. The author seeks to press all the instinctive fear buttons without really developing a story line or drama. The selections below are those which use fear selectively to move the story line along, rather than those in which fear is substituted for a good story line.

We hope you enjoy the list below and welcome other suggestions of scary stories for children.


Picture Books

The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss (What Was I Scared Of? Is the scary story in this collection)
Heckedy Peg by Audrey Wood and illustrated by Don Wood
The Fierce Yellow Pumpkin by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Richard Egielski
A Dark, Dark Tale by Ruth Brown

Independent Books

Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell
The Improbable Cat by Allan Ahlberg and illustrated by Peter Bailey
The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper

Young Adults

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving and illustrated by Nenad Jakesevic
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Dracula by Bram Stoker