Hello Friends!
Our recent discussions on the importance of picture books have had me thinking a lot about children’s literature in general, and the place it has in my own history of readership. The books I read in childhood played a substantial role in shaping me as a reader, a student, and a person. But I think one of the things from which I most benefited was the encouragement of the adults in my life. Between family members, teachers, and librarians, it was never once suggested that any book was beyond my abilities, or any topic out of reach. Instead, I was given free reign to explore anything and everything, with the understanding that they were always available should I have questions.
And explore I did! Mysteries, science fiction, fantasy, history, science… the literary world was my proverbial oyster, both in and out of the children’s department. One of the things I discovered in my forays through the stacks was the American Girl stories. Since I have learned that this year also has the (bizarre!) distinction of being the fortieth anniversary of The Pleasant Company, and the creation of American Girl, it seems like a good moment to talk about them.
I would hazard a guess that anyone who was, or had, a kid in the nineties and early two-thousands instantly knows that I am talking about. For everyone else, allow me to offer a brief introduction. The Pleasant Company was founded by a former teacher named Pleasant Rowland. The story goes that Ms Rowland visited Colonial Williamsburg, and was delighted by the way that the immersive experience brought history alive. As an educator, she wanted to bring that same feeling to children around the country. But, she had also noted that the majority of resources about history left girls out of the equation – both as their subject, and their intended audience. So, she founded a company that foregrounded both. In 1986, she launched a line of dolls – each representing a period in American history – and books about the characters that told their stories.
Each book series followed a pattern – six books that included introductions, birthdays, and some form of coming-of-age moment – and were accompanied by historical notes, and additional activity books explaining crafts and recipes from their respective time periods that children could try at home.
Now, while the dolls were expensive, the books were easily available to children who looked for them. I know that my local library had all of them, and I voraciously tore through every one.
The thing that I think most stands out in my memory is the way that the books trusted in children’s ability to deal with the upsets of American history. The authors never went beyond what was appropriate for the age group, but they didn’t talk down to children. And the impact of that on the understanding of what history actually meant was hugely valuable.
As an example, let’s talk about Addy Walker. In the book where we first meet Addy, she and her family are slaves on a North Carolina plantation (don’t worry, they do escape and settle in Philadelphia, where they live for most of the series). There is a scene where Addy is upset and distracted, and has missed some of the worms that she is meant to be removing from the plantation’s tobacco plants. The overseer shoves them into her mouth, and holds it closed until she swallows them. And, for every adult I know who read these books, that scene is seared into their memory.
It brought home in a real and visceral way not just the abstract horror of the idea of slavery but also the actual cruelty of it in a way a young child could understand. This was not a bully. This was not an accident, or question of people in the past not understanding what they were doing. This was an adult, who had complete control over Addy and her entire family, arbitrarily hurting a child because he could. The morality of it was absolute, and it was personal.
Addy’s books dealt with plenty of huge, life-altering events. They discussed slavery, and beatings, and cruelty. Her father and brother were sold to another plantation. She and her mother initially escaped without her baby sister. There were scenes of familial reunions, and conversations about the economic and social precarity they faced. But, there were also plenty of scenes that showed the normal day-to-day concerns for children throughout history – things like Addy’s desire to be a teacher, and her insecurities about fitting in with other children; her occasional frustrations with her little sister, her love of ice cream, her relationships with her parents.
All of the books, regardless of the level of cultural heaviness for their respective places and times, had that mixture of “slice-of-life” with historical context; their special magic was balancing those aspects, while avoiding making it feel like a lecture or sermon. Molly McIntyre worried about a father off fighting in WWII, but also contended with sharing a bedroom and wanting to be in the talent show at school. Felicity Merriman had strong personal convictions about American independence, but also wanted to impress her teachers and fit in with her friends. The books acknowledged that kids would be kids, even with Big World Events happening around and to them.
From those books, I graduated to other series (Dear America and Dear Canada, chapter books that were written as though they were the diaries of girls throughout history – again with historical notes in the back – were my most immediate follow up, and I still heartily recommend those as well), and to reading history in its own right. But they had still helped set the foundation.
A few years ago, my personal book club read Bruce Handy’s Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children’s Literature as an Adult (a book I highly recommend, by the way), and I went back to revisit some of my childhood favorites. And you know what? They held up. It was exceedingly enjoyable to once again dive into American Girl and Dear America. A large number of those books are now out of print, but they meant a lot to me then, and mean a lot to me now. And, a good thing about working at the Library: I can still recommend them to all of you.
Cheers,
Meghan
Meghan Hawkes
Skidompha Public Library