Banned Books 101: Teaching Toddlers, Preschoolers, and Early Elementary Grades about the Right to Read

Back in the trenches this week to review some recent picture books introducing younger readers to the concept of censorship.  Liberal values and a clever concept will get the project off and running, but good intentions may not be enough to avoid the potholes, such as explaining why it can happen, what is at stake, and how it might affect them.

All these ideas are great topics. but probably not age appropriate in a  board book modeled on the Baby Lit series.  “In this colorful celebration of groundbreaking books that have appeared on ‘banned’ book lists, little readers get a glimpse into the books’ important themes,” gurgles the blurb.  In Baby’s First Book of Banned Books, the little rebel-in-the-making is supposed to engaged with the six- to seven- word restatements of the book’s themes illustrationed by Laura Korzon. “ I have gifts that are special” sums up Lois Lowry’s chapter book The Giver (1993) versus “My friends can help when I’m sad or scared” for YA novel Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wall Flower  (1999).  Compare with “We’re not so different you and me” for Khaled Hosseini’s novel The Kite Runner (2003) and “I am beautiful” for Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye (1970).  The glossary provides parents with scripts and talking points so that they can deftly avoid telling their preliterate children all about the subjects that got the books banned in the first place such as rape, heavy recreational drug use, trauma, mental illness, and the oppression of minorities.  Hopelessly idealistic? Tone deaf? Or cynical?

In 2018, Raj Haldar, aka Philadelphia rapper Lushlife, hit the jackpot as the coauthor of  P is for Pterodactyl: The Worst Alphabet Ever, showing why it’s easier to learn to read than spell in English.  With 26 letters, 45 sounds and over 250 ways to put them together, there are too many choices and too many rules.   An exasperating subject that lends itself to humor, but is the same true for book banning?

Haldar and illustrator Julia Patton in This Book is Banned (Naperville, IL: Sourcebooks eXplore, 2023) fool around with a silly narrator and cook up squirrelly reasons for chopping things out of a book.  The cover, end papers, and title page warn the reader to keep it closed up tight. The narrator, when confronted with the prospective disobedient reader, says go ahead, turn the page and see how easy it is to cancel any subject—giraffes, dinosaurs, avocados and beds without monsters underneath.  For example, no can have the story of the Big Bad Wolf because somebody–not  you, dear  reader– was scared and so the big hairy beast was changed into a sweetie pie.  The last page announces that “we banned everything and there’s no ending left to read.”  The way Haldar and Patton break the fourth wall makes for a couple of fun read alouds,  but it won’t be much of a resource if as the adult who has to explain why book banners are turning up the pressure on the school librarian.  The presence of giraffes and avocados in children’s books aren’t as likely to be on the school board’s agenda as sex and drugs.

In The Great Banned-Books Bake Sale, Aya Khalil tries to make an attempt to ban books in an elementary school library real for children that age.  The protagonist is Kanzi, the Egyptian immigrant girl in Khalil’s first book The Arabic Quilt (2020). Kanzi and her class go to the library where they are told the diverse books have been removed on the order of the school board over the objection of the school librarian who acquired them. The children don’t understand what could possibly be wrong with the beautiful books they like because they show “people of many identities, backgrounds, and walks of life.”  The principal and librarian urge them to fight for their right to read and the children hit on the idea to hold a bake sale of goodies mentioned in banned books within a few days.  The proceeds will go towards the purchase of replacement copies of books about families like theirs.  When the treats have been sold, the TV cameras arrive in time to film the peaceful demonstration urging the reversal of the ban. Kanzi finds the courage to read aloud her poem “Books are for everyone.  Am I not important?  Am I invisible?”   The school board backs down a week later and the diverse books are reinstated in the classroom.

An Arab Muslim-American mother, Khalil strongly advocates that black, brown, Asian, Native American, and immigrant (but not LGBTQUIA) children have access to “affirming, inclusive books” in this optimistic story where the characters agree wholeheartedly on what is right (and puffs Khalil’s Arabic Quilt in several places).  Without the opposition coming on stage to voice alternative values, the nature of social conflict and resolution was presented standing up for a set of beliefs without having discussions and negotiations with those holding alternative views. Khalil and her illustrator Anait Semirdzhyan chose in The Great Banned-Books Bake Sale to light the spark of democratic participation by showing the children triumphing over authority on the first try.  Their goal in writing this story was a worthy one, but it underscores why 32-page picture books may not be the best vehicles for explanations of political processes.

There is nothing sunny or optimistic about the treatment of censorship in Banned Book by Jonah Winter, a noted author of non-fiction picture books.    Few of the Amazon reviewers disliked the book, saying it was relevant and important because of its subject.  Winter’s text is redacted : words, phrases, and sentences have been blacked out supposedly to protect the reader from dangerous content. Almost everyone with a comment about the graphic design seemed to agree that as an visualization of the process of censorship, it was better suited for older children, who probably still would have difficult questions with an adult.

The selective blacking-out  of the text  creates intriguing patterns on the page without interrupting the flow of meaning because no text was actually been excised, as is quite clear on the last two pages.  In spite of the black lozenges marching across line after line, the message is unequivocal: “they claim that they only want to protect children when what they really want is power over everyone, because they don’t believe other people have the right to think for themselves.  What had been a book was not just garbage decomposing, turning into dirt.”   Would the same exercise driven the same point home more forcefully to young readers if the text had been a familiar fairy tale like “Cinderella” or “Red Riding Hood” where they could have puzzled out the missing bits of text and explain how their absence affected them?

Illustrator Gary Kelley’s grainy pictures are dominated by shades of blue-gray, slate blue, and grayish lavender, with occasional highlights of tans and pale oranges.  The palette is perhaps meant to communicate the idea that the battle has already been lost in the classroom and school library.  On the first page, a boy furtively looks into a book, as if he expects to be caught and a few pages later is a staring eye peering at a page through a magnifying glass looking for objectionable material.   Children sit mute in class, books open, their hands raised to answer a question to which there is only one answer. Hot red appears only in the two illustrations of the book banners and the devils on the cover.  The association of  the book banners with red sends mixed signals,  its contemporary associations with MAGA clashing with older left-wing ones such as Socialism and Communism.  Of this dystopian picture book, the one Amazon reviewer to give the book one star said, “A bit too stylized and dark for me. As for the text—I’m all for guiding kids to appropriate books and helping them process the difficult ones, but this book (as much as I was able to stomach) came across as bitter, didactic, and self-righteous.”

No denying how wonderful it is that Haldar, Khalil, and Winter all elevate librarians for standing up for children’s right to read in the face of challenges by administrators, parents, and outside organizations, even if  they perpetuated a tired old visual stereotype… From the perspective of a professional with the luxury of buying books capturing the contemporary moment for future readers to study, it is hard to gauge if they can be effective teaching tools with the support of a thoughtful adult or if their presence on the shelves will be more successful in pouring oil on the fire in the struggle for control over curriculum and supporting resources.

Lloyd Alexander’s The Four Donkeys: A “Timeless” New Tale Created from Two Fables

Lloyd Alexander’s first picture book The Four Donkeys appeared in 1972 and has not attracted much attention, as in also the case his many excellent romances written after The Prydain Chronicles (1964-1968).  It was his practice to closely study world literature’s traditional tales seeking inspiration for new works.  In The Four Donkeys, he combined  two well-known fables to create another showing why people with common interests are better served by cooperating than going their own ways.  The Four Donkeys is also a good example of Alexander’s remarkable ability to compose prose in short, easy sentences which rely on the verbs and the verbs and dialogue to move along the plot smoothly.

The picture book also marked the debut of RISD graduate Lester Abrams as a book illustrator, usually remembered for the concept and character art he created for the version of J. R. R.  Tolkien’s The Hobbit produced by Rankin/Bass Studios (Gollum and Bilbo are shown to the right). His drawings of the three silly tradesmen might have walked straight out of Maxfield Parrish’s magazine covers.   The whimsical otter assistant of the tailor and the floral borders help visualize the narrative in vivid comic detail, so much so that the Kirkus reviewer thought that Abrams’ pictures imitating manuscript decorations (more Walter Crane than Jean Fouquet)  were what made the book. They situate the tale in the medievalesque world with no advanced technology with or without magic, the default location for much popular modern imaginative literature for adults and young readers. 

The Three Donkeys sounds as “timeless” as a folk tale because Alexander seamlessly wove together elements from two well-known fables into a new one about a tailor, baker, and shoemaker going to the fair in town.  While the tradesmen pack up their tools and wares, they daydream about all the money they  will make and how they will lay it out, just like the milkmaid in the classic fable who was so preoccupied with imagining how the day’s proceeds would fund the first step to a more comfortable life that she tripped over a rock and dropped the pot of milk which shattered to pieces.  Alexander’s characters are just as guilty of counting their chickens before they are hatched as the milkmaid, but they ought to know better as well-established businessmen competing against one another.  In their eagerness to make a profit that will underwrite the purchase of little luxuries, they forget to be realistic.

The next part of the story is Alexander’s diverting reimagining of the Aesopian fable “The Miller [or old man], his Son, and the Ass.”  Although they hurry to get an early start, there are unanticipated delays.  The shoemaker was going to catch the worm, but stopping for a nap set him back for at least an hour or two. The baker must have the tailor repair his coat before the wagon can be loaded.  The tailor leaves ahead of him, but before he gets very far, his new shoes cripple him with blisters.  The tailor and shoemaker are obliged to beg the baker for a ride and pay for the privilege of crowding into the wagon filled to bursting.

Soon the donkey collapses in the road, igniting a storm of mutual recriminations until it dawns on the three that they can’t stay or go.  The shoemaker’s plan to put the exhausted beast in the cart and pull it themselves to the fair is adopted with some grumbling.  Along the way, they actually stop thinking about their troubles and help each other make the best of a bad business. The shoemaker greases the tailor’s shoes so he can walk in them, the baker provides breakfast for the famished shoemaker, and the tailor agrees to fix the baker’s ruined jacket free of charge.

Of course, they arrive after the fair has closed for the day and have no choice but to turn around and make for home.  Now that they appreciate  how difficult the lot of a donkey really is, they make sure he has oats, a new harness, and a warm blanket before leaving.  Unaccustomed to kind treatment, the donkey rallies and pulls his burden as if it were light as a feather, leading the weary men on foot down the road.  “And so the Tailor, the Baker, and the Shoemaker came home together, a little wiser for having made donkeys of themselves. “ And that’s the end.

Circumstances that day forced them to see the advantages of working together if they were to get to the fair and back, but the last line does not hold out any promise that the experience has changed permanently changed their characters for the better.  Alexander resisted the temptation to end with them all shaking hands and promising to be best friends for the “benefit” of his young audience.  While his books–even the darker historical novels in the Westmark trilogy–always express a certain optimism about human nature with all its faults, they never go so far as to endorse the idea that hard lessons are learned the first, or even the fifth time around.