Tuesday, September 30, 2008

No solution but some worthwhile observations

Nancy Schnog had an article in the August 24, 2008, Washington Post, We're Teaching Books That Don't Stack Up.



As a teacher herself (of juniors and seniors in high school) she has some reality based observations. I don't agree completely with the implications of some of her analysis, but it is well worth reading. At the core of her article, she obliquely identifies the issue - the challenge of matching a child to the books that she might love so that interest fuels passion for reading rather than that academic exercise smothers the fire.



It is not easily done at all, and especially in these days of ever broadening social norms, inflated expectations of (mental and social) maturity, and attempts at standardization of education. I am not against rigorous performance measurement of children and schools but do recognize that that presents some very legitimate challenges that have not yet been effectively addressed.

Neurology of learning

From an e! Science News article, September 25, 2008, From 12 years onward you learn differently.

Eight-year-old children have a radically different learning strategy from twelve-year-olds and adults. Eight-year-olds learn primarily from positive feedback ('Well done!'), whereas negative feedback ('Got it wrong this time') scarcely causes any alarm bells to ring. Twelve-year-olds are better able to process negative feedback, and use it to learn from their mistakes. Adults do the same, but more efficiently.

It is a short article and worth reading in its entirety.


Adam Gopnik on Babar

From Adam Gopnik's article in the September 22, 2008 New Yorker, Freeing the Elephants. A reflective article with some interesting observations. I particularly enjoyed his concluding paragraph.

Far more than an allegory of colonialism, the “Babar” books are a fable of the difficulties of a bourgeois life. “Truly it is not easy to bring up a family,” Babar sighs at one point, and it is true. The city lives on the edge of a desert, and animals wander in and out at will, and then wander out again to make cities of their own. The civilizing principle is energetic but essentially comical, solid-looking on the outside but fragile in its foundations, reducible to rubble by rhinoceroses. Even the elephants, for all their learning and sailor suits, can be turned into slaves through a bad twist of fate. The unruliness of natural life is countered by the beautiful symmetries of classical style and the absurd orderliness of domestic life—but we are kidding ourselves if we imagine that we are ever really safe. Death is a rifle shot and a poisoned mushroom away. The only security, the de Brunhoff books propose, lies in our commitment to those graceful winged elephants that, in Babar’s dream, at the end of “Babar the King,” chase away misfortune. Love and Happiness, who are at the heart of the American vision, are, in Babar’s dream, mere tiny camp followers. The larger winged elephants, which are at the forefront of this French vision of civilized life, are instead Intelligence, Patience, Learning, and Courage. “Let’s work hard and cheerfully and we’ll continue to be happy,” the Old Lady tells the elephants, and, though we know that the hunter is still in the woods, it is hard to know what more to add.




Insight without illumination

I often am exasperated by the large community of well intended readers (most often out of academia) who spend so much time harping about the purported disguised messages (and thereby corrupting dangers) hidden in classics of children's literature, usually with the resulting advocacy that children should not be exposed to these books. My exasperation is threefold. First, that the critiques leveled at the books (usually race, class, and gender or some combination) are so extended that they would encompass virtually all well written books and thereby leave us without reading material. Second, that the messages are often so hidden that they are only discernible to an adult rather than to a child; and an adult, at that, with plenty of time on their hand for reflection. In addition, that which is being criticised is open to multiple equally legitimate interpretations - i.e. the criticism is speculative rather than fact based. Third, that the critique is so completely divorced from any sense of proportion or perspective. Proportion in that the element being criticized may only be a small part of the story. Perspective in that a parent needs all the help they can get to find an engaging story quickly and doesn't have time to read/comprehend a forty page explication about the inherent class bias exhibited in Lassie or the dangers posed by the disguised misogyny of the Hardy Boys. They just need a good story - Now!



All that being said, sometimes these cogitations do turn up some interesting points. It is rather as if these deeply knowledgeable critics entered a darkened room with a laser pointer. They can point out all sorts of interesting little features of the room in a strange red light but can give no overall illumination of the nature of the room. The parent gains more understanding of the room with a one second flip of the light switch than three hours of a laser pointer tour.



All this is brought to mind because of an article by Adam Gopnik in the September 22, 2008 New Yorker, Freeing the Elephants. Gopnik addresses a central charge leveled at Jean de Brunhoff's Babar books for the last two or three decades; namely that they are purveyors of an imperialist mind set and are therefore dismissive of the non-European world.

It is an interesting article for pointing out different ways of understanding the context in which the Babar books were written and ways of interpreting the stories. Gopnik is as deeply knowledgeable as the critics but takes a more tolerant and encompassing view of the stories.



If you are short on time though - just read the Babar stories. They are still great after all these years and will almost certainly hold your child's interest.

Insight without illumination

I often am exasperated by the large community of well intended readers (most often out of academia) who spend so much time harping about the purported disguised messages (and thereby corrupting dangers) hidden in classics of children's literature, usually with the resulting advocacy that children should not be exposed to these books. My exasperation is threefold. First, that the critiques leveled at the books (usually race, class, and gender or some combination) are so extended that they would encompass virtually all well written books and thereby leave us without reading material. Second, that the messages are often so hidden that they are only discernible to an adult rather than to a child; and an adult, at that, with plenty of time on their hand for reflection. In addition, that which is being criticised is open to multiple equally legitimate interpretations - i.e. the criticism is speculative rather than fact based. Third, that the critique is so completely divorced from any sense of proportion or perspective. Proportion in that the element being criticized may only be a small part of the story. Perspective in that a parent needs all the help they can get to find an engaging story quickly and doesn't have time to read/comprehend a forty page explication about the inherent class bias exhibited in Lassie or the dangers posed by the disguised misogyny of the Hardy Boys. They just need a good story - Now!



All that being said, sometimes these cogitations do turn up some interesting points. It is rather as if these deeply knowledgeable critics entered a darkened room with a laser pointer. They can point out all sorts of interesting little features of the room in a strange red light but can give no overall illumination of the nature of the room. The parent gains more understanding of the room with a one second flip of the light switch than three hours of a laser pointer tour.



All this is brought to mind because of an article by Adam Gopnik in the September 22, 2008 New Yorker, Freeing the Elephants. Gopnik addresses a central charge leveled at Jean de Brunhoff's Babar books for the last two or three decades; namely that they are purveyors of an imperialist mind set and are therefore dismissive of the non-European world.

It is an interesting article for pointing out different ways of understanding the context in which the Babar books were written and ways of interpreting the stories. Gopnik is as deeply knowledgeable as the critics but takes a more tolerant and encompassing view of the stories.



If you are short on time though - just read the Babar stories. They are still great after all these years and will almost certainly hold your child's interest.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Louis Slobodkin

Born February 19, 1903 in Albany, New York

Died May 8, 1975 in Miami Beach, Florida



Louis Slobodkin, an American sculptor and children's book author and illustrator, was born February 19, 1903 in Albany, New York, one of three brothers and a sister. His parents were Ukranian immigrants, his father an inventor and his mother a homemaker. His early childhood was characterized by a sustained interest in art and an evolving comprehension of what that might mean.



He related, in a number of articles, an early experience when he was five years old where he gained his first insight into perspective. As his long time authorial collaborator Eleanor Estes tells the story in an article in Horn Book in July 1944:


He likes to tell the story of the only lesson in drawing he ever received. This unique lesson he picked up for himself when he was just a little boy of five from a big boy he did not know. Louis was running across the brick pavement of the school yard late one afternoon when he saw a boy drawing a large head on the wall in white chalk. Louis stopped short to watch. The boy drew a three-quarter view of a head and then so indicated the nose that the head took on form and dimension. The face came right out at Louis, who was literally overcome at [sic] this revelation unfolded before his eyes. He had been drawing flat patterns all along, but now he saw that the illusion of the third dimension could be indicated in drawing as well.

In an article in Child Life, May, 1947, Slobodkin related:
That important thing happened when I was just five or six years old. And that must be the time I decided to become an artist, whether I'd be a cartoonist who draws for the comics, or a painter who paints pictures of sunsets and mountains for art museums - but some kind.

Another transformative incident in his childhood, and it was lucky they happened early because he grew up fast, was when his brother gave him a lump of red modeling clay when he was about ten years old.

First I modeled the head of an Indian - it was red plastelline. Then I made the head of George Washington, the Father of our Country. I could not make his eyes look right so I put a couple of flat pieces of clay over his eyes and made spectacles. He looked exactly like Benjamin Franklin! Spectacles on, he looked like Franklin. Spectacles off again he looked like G. Washington! That decided things for me. I would become a sculptor.

By his own admission, Slobodkin was not a distinguished student and as he entered high school he set his mind to throwing over his academic studies and pursuing art. His parents were initially reluctant to support this course of action till Slobodkin undertook a peaceful protest by attending but not participating in classes. As the zeroes began to rack up, his parents finally gave their blessing and at age fifteen, Slobodkin left Albany and enrolled in the Beaux Arts Institute of Design, in New York City. He studied sculpture for six years, studying during the day and working a variety of jobs at night to support himself. Given his age and the times, one of his jobs was as an elevator boy. Washing dishes and working in a factory were his other means of support.



Despite the burden of studying and supporting himself at the same time, Slobodkin had a very successful career at the Beaux Arts Institute, winning a fellowship (Louis Tiffany Foundation) as well as twenty-two medals for his works. In 1922, predating Monty Python by half a century, he determined that it was time for something completely different, signed on as a deckhand in the merchant marine, and sailed to Argentina.



On his return to the States he apprenticed himself in commercial art studios and then worked in Europe, primarily in Paris, for a year and a half, before again returning to the US. In 1927 he married Florence Gersh, a writer and poet. They were to eventually have two sons.



Through the next fifteen years, Slobodkin established himself as one of the leading sculptors in America, winning numerous prizes and commissions. His style was very muscular, almost a refined version of the 1920-30's Soviet worker type art. His works were commissioned by museums, private patrons and various New Deal organizations. One of his works, commissioned for the 1939 World's Fair in New York, became something of a cause celebre. Rail Joiner, a seven foot steel and plaster statue of a young Abraham Lincoln took more than a year to build. Unfortunately, a female friend of the World's Fair Commissioner General, Edward J. Flynn, complained to Flynn about the statue and he in turn ordered workmen to take sledge hammers to it.



Slobodkin later had the last laugh though. He recast the statue in bronze the next year and it was installed in a courtyard of the Department of the Interior in Washington, D.C. where it has resided ever since.



In the summer of 1938, Slobodkin and his family were summering on Cape Ann. Out strolling about one day, they met a young couple sunning themselves on an old stone wall and fell to talking. Eleanor and Rice Estes were librarians but Eleanor had been contemplating changing her career and becoming an author. She began writing a story based on a family of four children and their widowed mother living in a small Connecticut town named Cranbury. The story is strongly dependent on characterization and humorous plotting with each chapter essentially serving as a stand-alone tale (which makes it an ideal read-to book). Once she completed the book and had it accepted for publication, she asked her sculptor friend Louis Slobodkin to illustrate it which he accepted without hesitation. The Moffats, the first book for both Estes and Slobodkin, was published in 1941. (See Eleanor Estes in Featured Author section).



Slobodkin had been drawing and sketching all his artistic career and had no doubt about his ability but found that the process of book illustration was not at all straight-forward. He had to quickly learn about the constraints of the publishing processes and find ways to work within those constraints. In his Caldecott acceptance speech, he had some interesting observations about the differences as an artist between his work as a sculptor and his work as a drawing artist.

When you start a sculpture composition, you develop one main thought; all sketches and primary indications tend towards developing that idea with all its ramifications. Say it's a colossal figure or composition of a couple of sculpture units. After your primary sketches and mechanical preparations are complete, you settle down to work, five months, seven months, a year or more, on one shape, one movement, and one thought. Of course, you develop and clarify and carry through essential nuances of good sculpture. But a change in the composition, a deviation from this one idea, the mere movement of a ponderous clay arm, a few inches in any direction, is a major operation, an engineering feat. There's the readjustment of the weight, the sawing through of the armature, the risk of destroying all the work you've done in the past six months and throwing that much of your life into the clay bin. You don't often change from your first idea: you compromise. And that's true, too, of changes in a stone carving.



Now, moving from this one-composition and one-idea way of a sculptor's life, to the crackle of thinking of hundreds of compositions within a short space of time was the main difficulty. For each drawing was a complete composition in itself. Every Moffat was an individual sculpture unit. Then there was another element, space, and the shape of the space, limited by the requirements of the book. Sculpture make's its own space. It pushes its way into existence.

His illustrations, always pen and ink and often with watercolors, are notable for their compact energy. He has a particularly distinctive style, which becomes comprehensible once you realize his background in sculpture. All his human characters have a particular stylization most easily seen in his male figures. There is a muscular statuesqueness which is also characteristic of his statues. All his figures are only a thin sheething away from the basic human form.



At nearly forty years old, after one very successful career, Slobodkin suddenly found himself heading in an entirely different direction. While he never completely abandoned sculpting, he very quickly refocused most of his energies into illustrating children's books. And what a tear he had at the very beginning!



In the space of three years, he was involved in three striking projects. Estes career was launched with The Moffats and she followed this first book with two more in the series, The Middle Mofat (1942) and then Rufus M. (1943) both of which were also illustrated by Slobodkin. There actually ended up being a series of four books when, forty years later, Estes wrote the final book, The Moffat Museum.



In 1942, Slobodkin was asked to illustrate the humorist and essayist James Thurber's Many Moons, the first of three children's books he wrote in the 1940's. While the Moffat books were in black and white, Slobodokin used watercolors extensively throughout Many Moons . Many Moons was a big hit, remains in print today, and earned a Caldecott Medal (illustration) for Slobodkin. Many people think the illustrations of the Moffat series more deserving of the Medal but at least he was awarded a deserved recognition. In 1944 Slobodkin published the first book, Magic Michael (based on his first son Michael) in which he is both the author and illustrator.



Also in 1944, Slobodkin published The Hundred Dresses. This is another book by Eleanor Estes, though not in the Moffat series. See Eleanor Estes Featured Author essay for discussion about The Hundred Dresses, which is a wonderful book.



Slobodkin's long term reputation is almost certainly anchored on these works from his first five years in his new calling. Currently no other books from his later career are still in print, though a number warrant being brought back. He wrote an engaging biographical account of his trip as a sailor to Argentina in Fo'castle Waltz. He illustrated some classic American children's stories such as Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer, a handful of stories by his wife Florence Slobodkin, and other contemporary authors that went on to establish reputations of their own such as Edgar Eager (Red Head). He wrote a series of career stories (Read About the Policeman, Read About the Postman, etc.), a handful of books on manners (e.g. Thank You, You're Welcome), and many stand-alone stories. Of his latter work, a series which he wrote beginning with The Space Ship Under the Tree, is the one probably most surprising in being out of print. It had quite a following in it's day.



After a long, distinguished and productive life, Louis Slobodkin died of a heart attack on May 8, 1972 in Miami, Florida.



I hope you enjoy the wonderful energy and distinctive style of Slobodkin's work as evidenced in the Moffat series as well as in Many Moons and The Hundred Dresses.





Picture Books















Many Moons by James Thurber and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin Recommended


The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin Recommended





Independent Reader

























The Moffats by Eleanor Estes and Louis Slobodkin Recommended


The Middle Moffat by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin Recommended


Rufus M. by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin Recommended


The Moffat Museum written and illustrated by Eleanor Estes Suggested





Young Adult










Sculpture; Principles and Practice. by Louis Slobodkin Suggested





Louis Slobokin's Bibliography





The Moffats written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1941

The Sun and the Wind and Mr. Todd written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1942

The Middle Moffat written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1942

Many Moons written by James Thurber and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1943

Rufus M. written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1943

Peter the Great written by Nina Brown Baker and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1943

Magic Michael written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1944

Friendly Animals written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1944

The Hundred Dresses written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1944

Garibaldi written by Nina Brown Baker and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1944

Young Man of the House written by Mabel Leigh Hunt and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1944

Clear the Track written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1945

Fo'castle Waltz written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1945

Lenin written by Nina Brown Baker and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1945

The Adventures of Arab written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1946

Tom Sawyer written by Mark Twain and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1946

Seaweed Hat written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1947

Hustle and Bustle written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1948

Bixby and the Secret Message written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1948

Jonathan and the Rainbow written by Jacob Blanck and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1948

Sculpture: Principles and Practice written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1949

Mr. Mushroom written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1950

The King and the Noble Blacksmith written by Jacob Blanck and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1950

Dinny and Danny written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1951

Our Friendly Friends written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1951

Ginger Pye written by Eleanor Estes and illustrated by Eleanor Estes 1951

Red Head written by Edgar Eager and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1951

Gertie, the Horse Who Thought and Thought written by Margarite Glendinning and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1951

The Space Ship under the Apple Tree written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1952

Circus April 1st written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1953

The Alhambra written by Washington Irving and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1953

The Magic Fishbone written by Charles Dickens and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1953

Mr. Petersham's Cats written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1954

The Horse with the High-Heeled Shoes written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1954

The Amiable Giant written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1955

Millions and Millions written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1955

The Saucepan Journey written by Edith Unnerstad and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1955

Evie and the Wonderful Kangaroo written by Irmegarde Eberle and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1955

Pysen written by Edith Unnerstad and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1955

The Mermaid Who Could Not Sing written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1956

One Is Good but Two Are Better written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1956

The King's Shoes written by Helen F. Bill and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1956

Love and Knishes written by Sara Kasden and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1956

Melvin, the Moose Child written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1957

Thank You, You're Welcome written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1957

Evie and Cooky written by Irmegarde Eberle and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1957

Little O written by Edith Unnerstad and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1957

The Warm-Hearted Polar Bear written by Robert Murphy and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1957

The Space Ship Returns to the Apple Tree written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1958

The Little Owl Who Could Not Sleep written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1958

The First Book of Drawing written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1958

Too Many Mittens written and illustrated by Florence Slobodkin 1958

Upside-Down Town written by F. Amerson Andrews and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1958

Trick or Treat written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1959

Excuse Me, Certainly written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1959

Martin's Dinosaur written by Davis Reda and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1959

Clean Clarence written by Priscilla Friedrich and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1959

Up High and Down Low written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1960

Gogo the French Sea Gull written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1960

Nomi and the Beautiful Animals written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1960

Marshmallow Ghosts written by Priscilla Friedrich and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1960

The Cowboy Twins written and illustrated by Florence Slobodkin 1960

A Good Place to Hide written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1961

Picco written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1961

Mr. Spindles and the Spiders written by Andrew Packard and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1961

The Three-Seated Space Ship written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1962

The Late Cuckoo written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1962

Io Sono written and illustrated by Florence Slobodkin 1962

Luigi and the Long-Nosed Soldier written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1963

Moon Blossom and the Golden Penny written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1963

The Lovely Culpeppers written by Margaret Uppington and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1963

The Polka-Dot Goat written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1964

Mr. Papadilly and Willy written and illustrated by Florence Slobodkin 1964

Yasu and the Strangers written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1965

Colette and the Princess written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1965

Read about the Policeman written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1966

Read about the Postman written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1966

Read about the Fireman written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1967

Read about the Busman written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1967

Round-Trip Space Ship written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1968

Mazel Tov Y'all written by Sara Kasden and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1968

Sarah Somebody written and illustrated by Florence Slobodkin 1969

The Spaceship in the Park written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1972

Wilbur the Warrior written and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin 1972

The Moffat Museum written and illustrated by Eleanor Estes 1983



Biography and Autobiography

The children's author, Jean Fritz, has said, "We cannot afford to forget that the past is not just a series of events; it is people doing things." The stories of a life can become a biography (or autobiography). Collect enough biographies together and you begin to have a history. And history; "our history;" is one of the means by which people define themselves. It is for this reason that there are so many issues attached to the genre of biography. When selecting biographies for your child to read and enjoy, there are many factors to consider. As a busy parent, it can be a huge barrier of entry, trying to navigate between what is true and accurate versus what is a loosely scripted polemic, between what is positive versus what is self-destructive, between what are legitimate questions of style and form versus academic nit-picking. (See Biographies and Autobiographies book list)



Another reason for the importance of biographies is that, indirectly, they generally serve as some sort of ambassador for behavior and values. We hold up individuals that we admire in the hope that our children will absorb some comprehension of the importance of those values and behaviors. We don't necessarily want our children to be like George Washington because he was the first president but rather because he was such an exemplar of the values of integrity, duty, perseverance, etc.



Just as a culture goes through a literary evolution from folktales to myths (unverifiable tales of unverifiable events purported to be real) to legends (unverifiable tales of verifiable events) to factual and documented stories; so too, do children go through a reading evolution. At their earliest ages, they have no historical framework or body of knowledge on which to build. Any story for the youngest crowd is going to typically focus on the barest bones of a life, often a single event, and will lack almost any sort of context. There simply is not a capacity for reference, nuance, or critical thinking. As a child grows and lays down layer after layer of knowledge, these capacities do also grow (in large part because of those simple early stories).



As a parent you are left with a challenge that does not have an obvious answer as you try and balance two different objectives. On the one hand you want stories that are gripping and will feed the habit of reading. On the other hand, you want to have stories that are reasonably accurate. You need something more than "truthiness" to borrow Stephen Colbert's term. Sometimes these objectives go together well; many times they do not. George Washington chopping down his father's cherry tree makes a great tale for a five year old and the refrain "I cannot tell a lie" a very useful object lesson at that particular age. Young children engage with this simple morality tale to which they can relate and it gives them a story that does reinforce the attested and essential truth about the foundation of Washington's character, his sense of duty and integrity. The fact that it probably did not happen, as they discover in their teens, sure is inconvenient.



This conundrum, the balancing of enthusiasm about reading with a desire for factual accuracy, is further inflamed by an overlay of academic nuance and political movements. Many books of even a decade or two ago are now roundly criticized as either questionable or straight out inappropriate based on depictions of race, ethnicity, gender, or class stereotypes. The unfortunate consequence, were we to take all of these criticisms seriously (and some of them do have merit), is that there would be hardly any books for children to read, and certainly few that they would want to read.



Even when the story being related is factually accurate, an author, when writing for a younger audience, must focus the narrative on a few essentials which means there is little capacity for balance or nuance. James Daugherty's Daniel Boone, (1939), was a Newberry Medal winner (among other prizes) and was long enjoyed by children at the independent reader level for the exciting tale it told and the energetic illustrations by the author. Not being the focus of the story, Native Americans were, however, pretty much depicted as the undifferentiated "other", the savage danger out there on the frontier. In today's context, that depiction is harshly criticized within the halls of academia and the book is no longer in print. But what are we left with? I am not sure there is anything currently available that comes close to Daugherty's version in terms of ability to grip a child.



What counts as a biography (auto or otherwise)? Can it be just a segment of the person's life or does it have to cover all of it? Can it be a diary or journal? Does it have to be a single person or can it cover a group of people? Does historical fiction count as biography? All good questions.



All or a segment? - At the picture book level there is a good exemplar of this as an issue. Kate Shelley: Bound for Legend tells the tale of a young fifteen-year old woman, Kate Shelley, and her role in averting a potentially disastrous train wreck in the middle of a rainstorm as well as the subsequent rescue of an engineering crew. The narrative gives a couple of paragraphs on her background and two or three on what happened in the rest of her life but the overwhelming bulk of the story is centered on her actions the night of that storm. Biography? - I would say in this instance, yes on the grounds that it does give a context of her whole life.



In general, as you move up the reading curve, from picture books to independent readers to young adult, we have, in the following book list, tended to focus on more complete lives rather than just segments.



How about diaries and journals? - With a couple of notable exceptions, we have broadly omitted diaries and journals as I think they warrant a category of their own.



Single person versus a group? - Walter Lord (writing for adults and whose work is especially suitable for young adults) was a master of this approach to historical writing as best exemplified in his wonderful, A Night to Remember, about the sinking of the Titanic. He researches and follows the stories of a dozen or more key characters at the center of the story: Captain Smith, Second Officer Lightoller, ship's architect Thomas Andrews, and many others. In most cases, he gives a short potted history of their life before the night as well as what happened to them afterwards. When this is done well, as he does, it serves as a marvelous group biography, illuminating much more than a single life and giving a snapshot of an era. Done poorly and you have a disjointed narrative that becomes hard to follow. We have included a handful of group narratives in the following list.



How about historical fiction? - Unlike Humpty Dumpty in Alice in Wonderland ("When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less"), we do have to abide by words meaning what they actually mean. So by definition, historical fiction is out. Which is not to say that it doesn't play an important role in building a child's knowledge of history and people. We'll just have to tackle it in a different book list.



Another issue in which a parent can get entrapped is that of contrasting approaches to history. One approach, popular in the 19th century and still resilient today, is that of the Great Man theory as originally propounded by the British essayist and historian, Thomas Carlyle. Carlyle's argument was that history is effectively the sum of actions of a handful of great individuals (usually men). If you want to understand the American Revolution, you focus on Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Henry, Hamilton, etc. The Great Man theory lends itself to stirring narratives and therefore is fairly prevalent in children's literature.



The alternative philosophies of history discount biographies of individuals and focus much more on the broad sweep of forces and trends, often emphasizing minutiae such as how people went about their daily lives, what they ate, the technologies they used, what they wore, etc. While this sounds pretty boring, (and done badly, it is), it can actually be pretty interesting. However, dependent as it is on broad knowledge and detail, it takes a certain level of talent and creativity to make this approach to history work for children. A few manage it. Anne Millard's A Street Through Time, illustrated by Steve Noon, might be a good example of the more current approach to history writing, that is made to work for children.



As with so many contretemps in academia, the truth usually lies between the extreme positions. Individuals matter and so do broad trends - it is the intersection between the two where things get really interesting. Barbara Tuchman did a wonderful job in A Distant Mirror, in building her tale around an individual but making the story come to life through the details of daily living. If you are wedded to one approach or another, you will find both examples represented in this book list but because of the nature of biography (which focuses on individuals) and the emphasis on engaging narratives, you will find a predominance of stories about individuals.



This leads into another arena of controversy, (who knew that there were so many sink-holes in children's literature?) Through the 1950's and 1960's, history as a compilation of Great Men narratives was well served in the children's literature arena. There were lots of books about great men in history: George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Charlemagne, Henry the Eighth, Sir Francis Drake, Stanley and Livingstone, FDR, Winston Churchill, Genghis Khan, Daniel Boone, etc. There was even a handful of Great Women of history such as Queen Elizabeth I, Madame Curie, Boadicea, Pocahontas, et al.



This list of great figures was predominantly white and predominantly male. From the 1970's on there has been a strong tide, not to refute the Great Man theory per se, but rather to broaden it to include more Great Women, Great African-Americans, Great Hispanics, etc. While right, I think, in general direction of injecting some balance, it has set up some peculiar consequences. One tendency is to dramatically exaggerate accomplishments: an assistant lab technician becomes a scientific genius; a previously inconsequential member of the expedition becomes the critical member on whom all success hangs. Another consequence has been one of balance. There are so many stories of women soldiers in the American Revolutionary army that you would think that there was hardly a need for them to disguise themselves as men. Some of these historical fiction stories are really good, it is just that in aggregate they can create a false impression.



Another trend prevalent in recent years, particularly at the young adult level, is for autobiographies as confessionals of self-destructive behavior – see all the abuse I suffered, my bout with drugs, I was a teenage alcoholic, etc. One of the progenitors of this trend was the 1970's book Go Ask Alice by Anonymous about a runaway girl that gets into drugs and street life. The consensus has latterly come around to the view that this is a fictional account rather than a true diary/autobiography. There clearly is some market for these type of books but I am afraid I have little tolerance for them. It seems to me that one or two might serve as an object lesson for how badly some people can make a mess of their lives. Beyond that though, there is a danger of creating an impression that these self-destructive behaviors are some sort of norm. While we carry these books should they need to be used for a particular purpose, they are not on this recommended book list.



What we have created below is a mix of books that are broadly accurate, have strong narratives that attract children's interests and which impart both factual historical information as well as highlight admirable individuals who exhibited traits we would wish our children to emulate. Beyond the individual books listed, there are fortunately a handful of authors (Russell Freedman, Jean Fritz, and Diane Stanley in particular) who produce really good narrative biographical stories. There is also a series, Childhoods of Famous Americans that is really good for early independent readers. It is an extensive series, has been in print for some sixty years, and covers all periods of US history. While each book is written by a single author, there is a stable of some dozen core authors over the entire series. Each book is written focusing on the famous person's childhood, usually finding something in that childhood that foreshadowed their later accomplishments. There are some 175 books in the series, though not all are in print. All three of our children enjoyed this series which is a tribute to its catholic appeal given their very different reading tastes.



Let us know of biographies and autobiographies which your children have especially enjoyed.



Picture Books


















































Johnny Appleseed by Reeve Lindbergh Highly Recommended


A Street Through Time by Anne Millard and illustrated by Steve Noon Highly Recommended


The Story of Ruby Bridges by Robert Coles and illustrated by George Ford Recommended


Where Was Patrick Henry on the 29th of May? by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Margot Tomes Recommended


And Then What Happened, Paul Revere? by Jean Fritz Recommended


Paul Cezanne by Robert Burleigh & National Gallery of Art Suggested


Can't You Make Them Behave, King George by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Tomie dePaola Suggested


The Man Who Walked Between the Towers by Mordicai Gerstein Suggested


Johnny Appleseed by Steven Kellogg Suggested





Independent Reader


















































































































































Going Solo by Roald Dahl Highly Recommended


Lincoln by Russell Freedman Highly Recommended


Indian Chiefs by Russell Freedman Highly Recommended


Cheaper By The Dozen by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey Highly Recommended


Belles on Their Toes by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey Highly Recommended


Rocket Boys by Homer H. Hickam Highly Recommended


A Night To Remember by Walter Lord Highly Recommended


My Life and Hard Times by James Thurber Highly Recommended


Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder
and illustrated by Garth Williams Highly Recommended


Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
and illustrated by Garth Williams Highly Recommended


A Weed Is a Flower by Aliki Recommended


Boy by Roald Dahl Recommended


Confucius by Russell Freedman and illustrated by Frederic Clement Recommended


Eleanor Roosevelt by Russell Freedman Recommended


The Wright Brothers by Russell Freedman Recommended


Bully for You, Teddy Roosevelt! by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Mike Wimmer Recommended


Homesick by Jean Fritz and illustrated by Margot Tomes Recommended


And Then What Happened, Paul Revere? by Jean Fritz Recommended


Traitor by Jean Fritz Recommended


The Endless Steppe by Esther Rudomin Hautzig Recommended


All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot Recommended


Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Briggs Martin and illustrated by Mary Azarian Recommended


Bill Peet by Bill Peet Recommended


The Glorious Flight by Alice Provensen and Martin Provensen Recommended


Traveling Man by James Rumford Recommended


Peter the Great by Diane Stanley Recommended


Saladin by Diane Stanley Recommended


Mary on Horseback by Rosemary Wells Recommended






Young Adult





















































































My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell Highly Recommended


Good-Bye to All That by Robert Graves Highly Recommended


Sagittarius Rising by Cecil Lewis Highly Recommended


A Distant Mirror by Barbara Wertheim Tuchman Highly Recommended


The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank and Otto H. Frank and Mirjam Pressler Recommended


Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer Recommended


The Discoverers by Daniel J. Boorstin Suggested


All over but the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg Suggested


I Could Never Be So Lucky Again by James H. Doolittle Suggested


Two Lives of Charlemagne by Nofker the Stammerer and Einhard the Frank Suggested


The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin Suggested


An Autobiography by Mahatma Gandhi Suggested


Empires Of Light by Jill Jonnes Suggested


The Color of Water by James McBride Suggested


The Man Who Loved China by Simon Winchester Suggested


The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester Suggested