I'm convinced that if children's books had a voice, their lament would sound much like Rodney Dangerfields' "We don't get no respect." Some of the greatest literary and visual art in America is tucked comfortably inside the covers of children's books, but they get no respect at all. Three startling examples of these slights occurred last November.
The truth is, many adults are secretly (and sometimes not so secretly) reading children's books. Art appreciators admire and collect pictures books for their glorious illustrations and public transit commuters are glad for a gripping novel they start on their way into work and finish on the return trip. Still other adults begin reading with their children and find themselves helplessly addicted even after their offspring have grown.
Once a children's book takes hold, it can sell in large numbers and stand the test of time better than most adult fiction. A case in point is J.K. Rowlings' Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Scholastic, $16.95; ages 8 and up), a fantasy about a young boy's discovering his magic prowess. (reviewed in December's Indy Reader) Harry Potter sold 150,000 copies in England. This reception was echoed in America when the holiday season showed 17,000 copies back ordered at Barnes and Nobles. The novel is enjoyed by adults and children alike, but heaven forbid British fans were caught reading a children's book. According to a December 7th Newsweek, the British publisher recently "issued a second edition with a more grown-up cover so that older readers wouldn't be embarrassed to carry Harry."
This action confirmed my opinion that children's books are considered the second class citizens of the industry. In fact, this genre produces a great literature because of the demands and expectations of an unforgiving audience. To keep children reading you have to create fascinating characters, compelling plots, sparkling words, and gratifying conclusions. But these books have a rough time escaping the prejudice inherent in their genre title.
Two years ago, the Young Adult National Book Award was reinstated, an acknowledgement appreciated by authors and aficionados alike. This year's winner was Louis Sachar's Holes (FSG, $16.00, ages 10 and up), a masterpiece which satisfies all the strenuous requirements of adolescents and makes for a fabulous read. Holes has an unusual hero, Stanley Yelnats. The palindrome name is only a clue to the ingenuity of this novel and the extraordinary talents of Sachar, who takes a seemingly serious plot line and turns it into a funny book.
Stanley's family has a history of bad luck, so he's not really surprised when he's accused of a crime he didn't commit and sent to Camp Green Lake, a juvenile detention center. Always positive, Stanley is hopeful on the bus ride to "Camp Fun and Games" . "Maybe he'd make some friends, he thought. At least he'd get to swim in the lake." He finds instead a barren desert and odd directives. Daily, he must dig a hole five feet tall and five feet wide. Amid the threats of cruel and quirky jailers, scorpions, seemingly pointless punishment, and unending heat and thirst, Stanley finds friendship, answers, and redemption for his entire family.
On November 25, soon after the awards were announced, Jim Lehrer's News Hour featured an interview with Sachar. Again, I saw the insult to children's books genre. Sachar's was, of course, the last of the conversations with all the National Book Award winners. The interviewer, Elizabeth Farnsworth, asked questions that showed she saw the book as a good children's book as opposed to an artistically excellent novel on a par with the other winning titles. Her screen of prejudice obscured the spirit, subtleties, and humor of the novel. Instead of asking insightful questions about the work, her queries were the typically patronizing variety many Young Adult authors dread. "What led you in the direction of children's, rather than adult literature?" she asked. (Translation: What kind of writer would choose and prefer this lesser genre?) "Do you think there's a big difference between your approach when you write for children, or for young adults?" (Translation: Don't you have to tone down your literary talents?) And then the most hated: "Do you think you'll ever want to write books for adults?" (Translation: When are you going to grow up and write real books?)
This November there was a third insult hidden in the controversy over Carolivia Herron's Nappy Hair (Knopf, $17.00, 6.99 , ages 5-9). This picture book finds a young black girl fussing and finally coming to appreciate her unruly head of hair. Released in 1997, the book sold and reviewed well. Then, suddenly, last Thanksgiving, sales skyrocketed when a young white teacher from New York, dedicated to motivating her Hispanic and Black students, read the book aloud and set into motion a wild chain of events.
Nappy Hair is a book worthy of respect. It is the first picture book I've encountered that embraces African-American life with a blend of unabashed authenticity, cultural reverence, and, best of all, it makes no apologies. Right from the beginning, this book shines with word play. For form, Herron uses the oral call and response tradition familiar in black churches, distinguishing speakers with differing typefaces. She blends the form with a style that is reminiscent of the teasing, lively, dialect-rich vernacular heard in homes and hoods across America. The book begins:
Brenda, you sure do got some nappy hair on your head, don't you?"
Yep.
It's your hair, Brenda, take the cake,
Yep.
And come back and get the plate.
Don't cha know.
Both Herron and the young white teacher knew the rhymes and rhythms spoke to and for young black children. As the young heroine tries to tame her hair, readers are treated to sensory similes and a rocking tone that moves Brenda and her reading fans through African pride, slave history, and finally to her ownership of self as a strong, fighting heroine. Illustrations by Joe Cepeda accent coarse ringlets of hair gone wild and people who dance across pages to the word beats.
The New York teacher's third graders fell so in love with the text that she delightedly reprinted pages for them to take home. Parents, most of whom had not even read the book, judged this a huge politically incorrect faux-pas, went ballistic, threatened physical harm, and the teacher quit, leaving the children who so clearly needed her.
Within one week, Knopf sold out of the 33,000 hardcovers, 15,000 paperbacks, and reprinted another 15,000 paperbacks. The same week, Nappy Hair climbed from Amazon.com's 2000 spot to 247. It was discussed on NBC Nightly News, World News Tonight and stimulated debate on Johnnie Cocran, Montel Williams, and Rush Limbaugh's talk shows. After recounting these amazing stats, the writer for Publisher's Weekly comments "the greatest lesson for children might not be the one found in the book, but the arguably more valuable 'Controversy Always Pays'".
Disrespect made America look, but the respect so deserved by the book's artistic merits and cultural triumphs of respect and authenticity, received little attention. If I could interview the book Nappy Hair, I'd call: "You sure do got some sorry respect don't you?" and I'm guessing the book would respond "Yep. I got no respect at all."