Today's book is Should We Burn Babar: Essays on Children's Literature and the Power of Stories, by Herbert Kohl. In it, he discusses the ways that racism, sexism, and classism are maintained by both fiction and non-fiction written for children and how progressive teachers can help overcome these -isms by promoting critical reading skills.
The most persuasive of these essays is his exploration of how history texts describe Rosa Parks in such a way as to de-emphasize the collective effort that led to the Montgomery bus boycott. He offers an alternative version of the story that talks about group planning and persistence as well as her individual courage and describes her as a community activist, rather than a poor seamstress whose feet hurt after a long day of work. I was convinced by his argument, and am curious to see whether it has changed the tone of books published in the 10 years since this essay first appeared.
The most provocative of the essays is the title one, in which Kohl takes on the classic Story of Babar, asking what should we do today with books that are charming, imaginative, and entertaining, but also include messages that are subtly (or not so subtly) colonialist, classist and racist. He points out that a hunter in a pith helmet kills Babar's mother, the elephants are portrayed as uncivilized until they are bought clothes and learn to walk upright, and that the Rich Lady has power because of her money, which is from sources unknown. Kohl encourages directly discussing these issues with children, explaining the historical context, and getting their reactions but concludes that an "uncritical reading" of the stories is sufficiently damaging that he would not purchase them for a child or a library (although he does not go so far as to encourage actually burning the books, the title notwithstanding).
We currently have four Babar books in the house. A friend gave us Babar's Museum of Art as a gift. This contemporary book (published 2003) uses the characters from the Barbar books, but all of the racism and sexism has been eliminated, to the point that I can't imagine anyone objecting to the book. The conceit of famous artwork drawn with elephants instead of people is more amusing to adults who recognize the originals than to children, but the book is a nice introduction to the concept of an art museum.
My parents found another Babar book, Meet Babar and His Family, in their box of old children's books. This one is essentially an introduction to the seasons, showing the elephants engaged in leisure activities appropriate to different times of the year. Only the boy elephants are shown participating in sports, but otherwise it's fairly innocuous.
The problems develop as we get into the older books. In Babar and Zephir (purchased on sale from Daelalus Books without an advance read) all is well until the last two pages when the General who rules the monkeys "gives" his daughter to Zephir to marry as the reward for rescuing her. In Babar and His Family (borrowed from the library), the sexism is more subtle, but also more woven into the story, as Flora is shown as delayed and not having the adventures of her brothers. For now, our solution is to redact the text as we read it out loud, changing pronouns so that Pom is also a girl. (The fact that the General's daughter is a Princess makes my husband and I shake our heads, but we're not particularly worried that our sons will learn that military dictatorships are an appropriate political system.)
Alison Lurie, in a recent New York Review of Books discussion of Babar, is pretty dismissive of Kohl's concerns, pointing out the many charms of the books. (Article found thanks to DaddyTypes.) I think she misses the point; if the books weren't so charming, no one would care. They would join the thousands of other books published in the 30s and 40s that are thrown away as their pages crumble and no one would think of reprinting today. It's because of their charm that we have to wrestle with their sins.
I have some similar issues with the Curious George books, which are huge hits in our household these days. On what basis is the Man in the Yellow Hat, who kidnaps George from the jungle and puts him in a bag, considered George's friend? This bugs me every time I read the original Curious George book. In Curious George Goes to the Hospital, all the doctors are male and all the nurses are female. And I know this is affecting my older son's view of the world; he's told me that I have to be the nurse in our pretend hospital. This is true even though his pediatrician is a woman.
In another essay in the collection, Kohl talks admiringly of some books that portray concerns from the everyday lives of working-class children and families, such as A Chair for My Mother, by Vera Williams. I think he's right that it's valuable for children to read such stories and that they are remarkably rare in books for young children. (There are plenty for teens). Let me therefore say that the people who wrote the recent book Corduroy Makes a Cake are total idiots. This is a story using the characters of Don Freedman's classic books Corduroy and A Pocket for Corduroy. These are lovely children's books that happen to address Kohl's concerns; Lisa, the protagonist, is an African-American girl. She's not poor -- she's saved enough money in her piggy bank to buy Corduroy, a teddy bear -- but she's not rich either -- she lives in a fourth story walkup and she helps her mother wash their clothes at a laundromat with a multi-ethnic clientele. So what's happened in Corduroy Makes a Cake? Lisa's been gentrified! She now lives in a suburban house big enough to have a "sewing room" and all the other children at her birthday party are white! What were they thinking?
For those who are interested in critical examination of children's books, a google search found this thoughtful discussion of these issues on a bulletin board at a site called ChickLit.
What an interesting post. We struggle with these issues all the time. My mother-in-law is a former 1st and 2nd grade reading assistant. She has a huge collection of children's book and she often sends many of them to us as she's weeding them out. She's a completely uncritical reader (as I think many in her position were and perhaps still are), so we end up with some books we find distasteful. We've gotten several Disney princess books (ugh!), for example. I recently tried to find a book for my 5 yo daughter for Christmas to help her deal with some boys who were teasing her. I was looking for something specifically about teasing or books with strong female characters--pretty hard to find just browsing. I finally did some searching on Amazon and came up with two or three.
Posted by: Laura | December 22, 2004 at 07:49 AM
Very interesting post. You've reminded me that I'd forgotten my first flush of critical review that I had when Callum (now 3) was born, and now I'm just happy to read him things he likes.
When I think about it, I know that Thomas the Tank Engine is horribly sexist, and "keep the working classes in their place", but luckily Callum still hasn't quite got gender, but randomly uses he and she as it occurs to him.
The main editing I do is to change the language to de-Americanise it (biscuits instead of cookies), but I'm going to have to stop that soon, as Callum is starting to try to figure out words on his own.
Posted by: Jennifer | December 25, 2004 at 08:53 PM
Ah, Babar. We have several Babar books, all of them the old original stories: Babar and his Children (in which Celeste is told at six weeks that her babies aren't growing fast enough and she needs to start offering them 6 bottles of milk sweetened with honey instead of breastmilk); Babar the King (in which Babar's colonizing ventures are so explicit and numerous, the book appears to be a manual for future French functionaries in West Africa--I'm especially amused by the discussion of how a market economy based on specialization works); and The Story of Babar, which is mostly off the reading list because the picture of the Old King turning green and dying after eating the bad mushroom is too scary.
I tend to read the books that are given to us, and then question my ethics after it's too late and the kids are pleading to hear the story again. It's funny how most of the stuff that leaps off the page and punches me in the gut sailed right over my head as a child. Does that mean that it worked in especially pernicious ways? I was so in love with Disney movies in the early 1990s that I have most of a complete collection--and I was in college and graduate school, I knew the critique! but now can't face the thought that my girls will be exposed to that stuff one second earlier than their friends require.
I loathe what has been done to Corduroy, by the way. I can only hope that Freeman's estate made some bucks off the deal, because that would be the only redeeming aspect of the update.
I don't think you can ever go wrong with Ezra Jack Keats.
Posted by: Jody | January 27, 2005 at 11:25 PM
What a great book, I'll have to get it.
We also had and received lots of older kids books, and I think that they are insidious if read straight.
We eventually decided that since these are the stereotypes that still dominate in our society, these books could be a good way to innoculate our kids.
So we'd read the stories but also talk about them as we read them and afterwards, asking for the kids' reactions. Often the kids had great critiques of the books. I do remember that Babar and Curious George were among the most problematic.
Posted by: chip | March 29, 2005 at 09:07 AM
oh...I dunno. The language and the stories are still potent. I see nothing wrong with reading these things as a child and appreciating their power, beauty, charms, etc. and learning slowly that this is not how things are now or maybe ever were, and why. That doesn't mean each book must be followed by a sermonette. Or that I think there's anything wrong with roleplaying in the grammar of the story. Just that as the child's old enough to think critically about these things, you talk about them. We make faces over our daughter's head at "Thomas, you're a very useful engine!", but there's meaning in it. Just not meaning I like, particularly. Doesn't make it less real or coherent. I'm not a great fan of (sternly) "You have caused confusion and delay," either, but an awful lot of the world still functions that way.
In the end I care more about showing the kid what a strong, coherent story & fine use of the language sound like than I do about the social messages-in-bottles. It keeps better, for one.
Posted by: amy | March 29, 2005 at 11:32 PM