This past week was Banned Book Week. Often an interesting list—often with the
specific purpose of ridiculing the very idea of limiting books for children. I
agree that banning Huckleberry Finn
is pretty ridiculous (because it contains the “N” word, along with a whole lot
of anti-racist perspective, beautifully told). But that doesn’t mean that every
book should therefore be available and recommended.
One of the well used shelves in the home library |
I’ve been thinking about youth literature again. Some weeks
ago I read Hillsdale College’s Imprimis newsletter,
which featured a piece by Meghan Cox
Gurdon, the children’s book reviewer for the Wall Street Journal. The piece was called “The Case for Good Taste
in Children’s Books,” which was adapted from a speech given at Hillsdale in
March. Here is some of her introduction:
[There’s an] increasingly dark current that runs through
books classified as YA, for Young Adult—books aimed at readers between 12 and
18 years of age—a subset that has, in the four decades since Young Adult became
a distinct category in fiction, become increasingly lurid, grotesque, profane,
sexual, and ugly.
Books show us the world, and in that sense, too many books
for adolescents act like funhouse mirrors, reflecting hideously distorted
portrayals of life. Those of us who have grown up understand that the teen
years can be fraught and turbulent—and for some kids, very unhappy—but at the
same time we know that in the arc of human life, these years are brief. Today,
too many novels for teenagers are long on the turbulence and short on a sense
of perspective. Nor does it help that the narrative style that dominates Young
Adult books is the first person present tense—“I, I, I,” and “now, now, now.”
Writers use this device to create a feeling of urgency, to show solidarity with
the reader and to make the reader feel that he or she is occupying the persona
of the narrator. The trouble is that the first person present tense also erects
a kind of verbal prison, keeping young readers in the turmoil of the moment
just as their hormones tend to do. This narrative style reinforces the blinkers
teenagers often seem to be wearing, rather than drawing them out and into the
open.
If there is one thing teenagers do not need, it is
encouragement to be more emotional and less cerebral. “Follow your passions” is
about the worst advice in the world for someone who doesn’t yet know how to
temper that with a wise, considered decision.
I agree with her about the ugliness of youth literature. I
like reading a lot of YA fiction. Some of the better things being written are
aimed at the YA audience. But she’s right that a lot of it is too intense, and
too ugly for young people without a better, clearer world view.
She makes a very good point further into the piece, about
decisions of taste:
Books tell children what to expect, what life is, what
culture is, how we are expected to behave—what the spectrum is. Books don’t
just cater to tastes. They form tastes. They create norms—and as the examples
above show, the norms young people take aware are not necessarily the norms
adults intend. This is why I am skeptical of the social utility of so-called
“problem novels”—books that have a troubled main character, such as a girl with
a father who started raping her when she was a toddler and anonymously provides
her with knives when she is a teenager hoping that she will cut herself to
death. (This scenario is from Cheryl Rainfield’s 2010 Young Adult novel, Scars, which School Library Journal
hailed as “one heck of a good book.”) The argument in favor of such books is
that they validate the real and terrible experiences of teenagers who have been
abused, addicted, or raped—among other things. The problem is that the very act
of detailing these pathologies, not just in one book but in many, normalizes
them. And teenagers are all about identifying norms and adhering to them.
Suppose you have some young people (and there are many) who
grow up in broken homes, with some chaos and ugliness in the home. Not enough
expectation of honesty, or hard work. Not enough hope for things to get better.
Nothing like an example of good fathering and mothering working in tandem to
successfully raise children to fully launched adults. There is a dearth of literature that
tells children what a healthy household looks like. The stereotype now is broken and
troubled homes. How do young people get the idea of a healthy norm if they get
it neither from their real-life culture nor from their literature?
Mr. Spherical Model thinks I would be using my time well to
write such children’s literature. That’s an appealing idea. I have gone so far
as to invent some characters, and some of the surrounding milieu and action. I
haven’t yet envisioned the story that will take over my life until I get it
written. So, we’ll see. But I’d like to see more of that kind of story.
This past Thursday I came across an article that furthers
Gurdon’s point, “Common Core-Approved Child Pornography.” Often when I find articles that make
important points, I save a copy; however, while I recommend this one, some of
the content in it is so graphic that I don’t want it permanently in my home.
This PolitiChicks piece provides examples (with warnings about graphic content—these
are in italics, if you must skip them) from a recommended youth novel, so you
know there’s no exaggeration. It’s from the point of view of a child rapist,
without judgment, so the reader can identify with the point of view of the
perpetrator—including graphic descriptions of the violent sex acts, using words
like “friendly,” “innocent,” and “tender.” If you are not nauseated, then ask
yourself what you’ve been numbing yourself with.
The article itself asks the logical question about why
anyone would think this was appropriate reading for children.
Using just the smallest amount of common sense we can deduce
that if the book cannot be read aloud in the class, could not be viewable if it
was a movie and couldn’t be played on the stereo if it was a CD, then why is it
okay for it to be read and discussed; in school of all places! In fact,
according to one lawyer, if the incidents in this book were a movie or a
picture there would be a very clear cut case for prosecution for child
pornography.
A library, not to mention the money needed to stock a
library, is a scarce resource. Why use scarce resources on things that defile
the mind—of anyone? If there are any parents out there that disagree and think
this graphic portrayal of sex and violence is necessary to the education of
their child, can’t they just buy it themselves and expose their child to it,
without requiring the purchase of it by the rest of us taxpayers, and the
subsequent exposure of it to our children, against our will?
When we’re talking about school bookshelves, there are
plenty of books that ought not to be allotted real estate there. But rather
than concentrating on what gets banned, I suggest we spend more energy and
resources hunting for the literature that feeds and civilizes a growing mind,
something that normalizes and exemplifies civilization. Let the searchers and
selectors be parents and maybe trusted teachers—never some distant so-called
expert.