Books with Merit

I will never believe that children's books don't have merit. If I did that, I'd have to believe that children don't have merit, that humans are born with no merit, and that merit can be earned by something simple as passing a birthday.
But I take AP English classes with hoity toity AP English students who try to convince the teacher-and themselves-that they're mature and enlightened readers. "Oh, I read Perks of Being A Wallflower, but I didn't like it. The emotions are too simplistic for my enlightened self, but what should I expect from a young adult book?" "I need an example of a badly written book for this argument. I'll use Twilight, even though I've never read it." "We're discussing commercial fiction that makes money but has no literary merit? Ooh, I've got a clever one! Harry Potter!"
Whenever I hear this, I think of little April Henry.
April grew up in a small Oregon town. She didn't like to hunt or fish, so there wasn't much to do. She scribbled stories to pass the time. After writing one about a six foot tall frog named Herman who liked peanut butter, she decided, "I bet Roald Dahl would like this!" It didn't cross her mind that Roald Dahl probably had Peter van Houten sized stacks of fanmail lining his hallways. She wrote it down in her best elementary school penmanship, found his publisher's address, and sent it off to England.
And he wrote back.
 
It didn't stop there. Dahl shared the story with the editor of a British children's magazine and got April published. Fastforward to the present. April is now a New York Times bestselling author of mysteries and thrillers-a genre my lit textbook's author used when describing books without merit. Her six young adult books have been finalists for ALA's Top Ten Books for Teens, Barnes and Noble Top Teen Picks, and one of them, Girl, Stolen, is taught in schools. Yes, schools. That means it's read primarily by people who haven't reach the "Pass go, collect 200 merit points" stage yet.
Oh, and she's also got eleven adult books, if that's your thing.
How often does a child who doesn't read become an adult who does? I'd argue that those are the most important kinds of writers, because without them, adult writers wouldn't have an audience. I'm an amateur writer with five complete books hiding inside my tiny laptop. They wouldn't be there without Magic Tree House, Junie B. Jones, Cam Jansen, The Bailey School Kids, and every book I picked up after. My hoity toity AP friends started out reading something, and so did the English professor who wrote our textbook.
On Saturday, Roald Dahl day, April shared her story via twitter. It's no secret the Roald Dahl made her a writer-there's a whole section devoted to the story on her website.
So yes, I'm an AP student. I've got The Crucible on hold at the library but only because I need something to read while I wait for the latest Ever After High book. And the latest Heroes of Olympus book. And the latest Ally Condie book. I've read all of April Henry's books for meritless people, so I've got to keep busy. Middle grade, young adult, lit class-friendly adult, I don't care. Just tell me a good story. Then I'll decide if it has merit or not. 

7 Reasons to Love Matilda

Matilda Wormwood is a brilliant kindergartener who had the misfortune to be born to the world's worst parents. Her genius goes unrecognized by everyone but Miss Honey, her teacher, the only decent adult in the show. Miss Honey was raised by her aunt, Miss Trunchbull, the physically and emotionally abusive headmistress of Matilda's school.
Since Matilda isn't being challenged in class, her brainpower spills over and gives her telekinetic abilities. She uses her powers to lead her school in a revolt, get rid of the Trunchbull, and help Miss Honey find her inner strength.
What started out in 1988 as a book by beloved children's author Roald Dahl has now given rise to a movie (1996) and, this last year, a Broadway musical. Here's seven reasons you should love Matilda.
1. It's amazingly faithful to the book. 
Seriously. You like to think that book adaptations only exist to give the fans something to complain about, don't you?
Matilda manages to pack in absolutely everything of significance from Roald Dahl's 240 page book without every feeling crowded. If anything, the story is embellished. The Chokey-Miss Trunchbull's closet that is only mentioned in the book but nonetheless managed to terrify me as a child-gets a whole song.
2. Actual child actors play child characters. If you've followed me for a while, you know I feel about aging up characters when a book becomes a show. I understand that it's necessary a lot of the time because of child labor laws. Especially with plays. A movie you can film and have it all done. But plays show night after night, and kids have to go to school.
Still, it's crushing to know that one of the only corners of the universe-the entertainment industry-that cares for children is dominated by older people. Matilda gives children a chance to tell a child's story.
3. Matilda's goofball parents.

Oh, Wormwoods.

 Dahl had a thing  against television. He ever wrote a poem about it. 

4. Kid Power!
Miss Honey is sympathetic, yes, but years of abuse have left her incapable of standing up for herself. Luckily, her students are here to help. This is their story and nobody else is going to put it right for them.

5. The Trunchbull. No one makes gruesome, child hating villains like Roald Dahl. Not every child has been locked in a spike-lined closet or chucked across the room by the pigtails. But we've all had moments where we feel small and incompetent. Worms in a world of butterflies.
G. K. Chesterson famously said, "Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten." That's what Matilda is to me-a story of a girl who can slay a dragon. Children need stories like this. Not because we're all capable of being our own heroes, but because we need to know that someone can.

6. The message. 
So often, children's stories are about growing up. To save the day, to learn the lesson, you need to mature. You need to be less of a child than you were at the beginning before you can rightly be called a hero. That's not the case here. Matilda retains her childish spunk and idealism throughout the course of the story. She's little, and she's not about to "let a little thing like little" stop her. Matilda reminds us that children deserve love and respect from adults-but we're not small and pathetic without it.

7. Last but not least, this clever song.
They're singing the alphabet, but you won't catch it if you don't watch the lyrics.                                                                    

IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!

I've always liked Roald Dahl. Like any self respecting third grader, I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, though I have to say Matilda was my favorite. Matilda is about an unappreciated genius born into a family of television addicts. Much like Mike Teavee in Chocolate Factory. According to the Roald Dahl wiki, Mike is a "violence-obsessed, anger fueled television fanatic, who is seldom away from his television set." Dahl apparently had a thing against TV. When they adapted his novel "The Witches" into a motion picture, he stood outside the cinema with a megaphone, warning people not to see it. Which makes sense, because they completely screwed up the story.
A few months ago, I was browsing on poemhunter.com and found this little piece entitled simply 'Television'. This is where Dahl sums up his feelings about the ghastly machine, just in case we didn't get the message before.

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install 
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.

(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?

IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!

'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,

AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!

And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
 
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,

And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-

Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did. 

 I cherish and admire Mr. Dahl, but I can't agree with him. Opinions like his were common in recent decades.  They still are, though most moral guardians have gotten bored with the crusade against television. And they grew up watching it themselves. So they've switched to preaching the evils of the Internet. Which makes me wonder. What atrocious forms of media will I be shooing my children from in 2033? Hmm...I've never been fond of video games...but they'll probably be offering gaming scholarships by then.
I like TV. I like books. My all time favorite show is Nelvana's Redwall cartoon. Especially season three, which contains many things Dahl would've approved of. Pirates, ships, cannibals, smugglers, gypsies, queens-no whales, but the characters are nearly eaten by a large fish once. I never would've discovered the Brian Jacques books without the show.

 
So maybe they do some good after all.