Oh, boy. Right now, the drama in the world of children’s literature is intense! It’s not about another book ban, or the death of a literary hero, or something else that leaves me teary and deflated. It is something I can actually sink my teeth into! The drama is the result of a single quote in a little book. It’s created an uproar in the industry because of: 1) who wrote it, 2) who that person supposedly represents, and 3) the quote’s scathing implication. So, what is the Quote? Well, you will have to wait. Unlike its viral reposting, I will first add context.
When Mac Barnett entered the scene, picture books as a literary form were already endangered. Adults were encouraged to push Levelled Readers (books designed for literacy, not literature) and quickly move on to chapter books, lest one’s child falls behind scholastic progress. In 2010, The New York Times wrote an article entitled “Picture Books No Longer a Staple for Children.” While some may have seen that as a final nail in the coffin, Barnett gathered fellow picture book authors and illustrators and drafted the “Picture Book Manifesto.” It begins with “we are tired of hearing the picture book is in trouble, and tired of pretending it is not,” and ends with “every day we make new children—let us also make new children’s books.” Those words sandwich a list of worthy criteria designed to refocus the purpose and pleasure of picture books. The manifesto in its entirety is worth reading; I have a copy of it hanging in the children’s library, or you can access it immediately online at thepicturebook.co.
Their proclamation was effective: publishers began reinvesting, and it placed Barnett in the kidlit limelight. Authors of picture books now had a spokesperson who tirelessly defended the literary form. Last February, Barnett’s efforts were rewarded by the Library of Congress when he was given the fancy title of National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature.
On the 5th of May—fancy Ambassador title in one hand, and a long history of articles, interviews, and (delightful and humorous) picture books in the other—Barnett published his long-anticipated first book for adults, called Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children.
It is a small book with a big message: when it comes to picture books, respect the literary form and respect the audience. An excerpt:
“…a child’s imagination is one of the few places where they can experience genuine autonomy. A good children’s book respects this autonomous zone and might even expand its borders. But too many books—sometimes inadvertently but often on purpose—make incursions into children’s imaginations in order to reinforce adult control.”
That’s not the One Quote that ruffled feathers. However, it does set the tone for the book’s purpose. Make Believe raises “national awareness of young people’s literature” by using a long-overdue critical eye. Criticism of children’s books is essential, because children’s books directly affect “the development of the lives of young people.” Seems like the book is fulfilling the mission of the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature. But, there’s a problem. Hence, the One Quote:
“Maybe,” says Barnett, “more like 94.7 percent of kid’s books are crud.”
Pragmatic thinkers may think that number sounds hyperbolic. Fans of science fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon may think that number is suspiciously similar to Sturgeon’s Law, where 90 percent of everything is crud. Both are on to something and would probably enjoy the whole book for further edification. But, for others, that One Quote cancels out any of Barnett’s compelling arguments throughout both his book and career. He is attacking his own industry, throwing colleagues under the bus, and hurting feelings!
Here’s the crux of it, though. Barnett isn’t advocating for writers, and he shouldn’t have to; the Ambassador is advocating for the readers.
Picture books are an art form that introduces young people to a powerful weapon against the slings and arrows of potential misfortune. That weapon isn’t a message, such as kindness, empathy, or respect. Those are just a small smattering of its by-product. The weapon is literature itself. Give children that thirst, and they will forever drink.
We’ve all read our fair share of doozies, children’s and adult books alike. But an adult disappointed in a story has the experience to simply walk away from a book. A child could walk away from literature totally. For lifelong literacy, the question of what to read needs to be just as important as how to read.
It is high time we approach picture books with a discerning and aesthetic eye. There are art critics, movie critics, and even book critics (but mostly for adult literature). We read their words for guidance, and when we disagree, we don’t call for their resignation. Experts are able to change or strengthen our own opinions because we trust their expertise. By reading their words, we find ourselves in an intelligent conversation with the critic, whether or not we agree. Therefore, I am grateful to Mac Barnett for starting this conversation. I don’t agree with everything he said (may I never be an authority figure to my little patrons!), but I respect and revel in what he’s written.
In that light, I’ve bought 27 copies of Make Believe to give away. If you are a person who reads to a child, stop by the children’s desk at Skidompha and pick up a copy. I’ll be taking names, because a book discussion will soon follow. And, despite what my grumpy grumblings may suggest, the book and its overall topic are not all doom and gloom. There are so many fascinating and multi-faceted children’s stories to celebrate, share, and absorb! There are living writers to thank, illustrators to admire, and other advocates for children working hard to turn a page. Pun intended.
Love,
Becky Cooper
Children’s Librarian, Skidompha Library