Category Archives: American children’s books

Bravery Has Got to Be Carefully Taught

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Childhood is prone to the many manifestations of fear. Fear of being small, fear of being powerless, fear of all kinds of things on four, six, and eight legs, fear of elderly relatives with strange faces who insist on hugs and kisses, fear of the house where the mean boy lives that’s on the way to school… And books.  A Gothic novelist recently confessed that her younger self loved being scared out of her wits by scary tales.  Some people agree it’s a healthy way to come to terms with the dark side, others are triggered at the sight of a closed book they know contains something awful.

When picture book creators try to dispel fears now, they tinker with strategies to address the source of anxiety and feelings which bubble up.  Showing a non-human character dealing with it, as did Maria Nilsson Thore in A Pack of Your Own (2020; English translation 2022), is a way to put some distance between the reader and the fear.  “The best thing and the worst thing in the world is other dogs,” sighs the dachshund sitting on the radiator in his bathrobe, looking out the window at the dog park.“The best thing about other dogs is that they seem to have a lot of fun together.  How wonderful it must be to belong to a pack!”  Then he remembers all their disgusting habits, like sniffing bottoms, walking on all fours, and defecating anywhere.  He can’t imagine finding another dog who also loves coffee, solves crosswords, and collects vintage sticks.  It’s lone wolfhood for him.   But he unexpectedly makes a friend with a poodle who follows him home after the disastrous visit to the dog park and makes herself at home.  On the rear endpapers, they play catch their own way in hats on two legs at the dog park with the pack.

Friends offering reassurance at tense moments can also defuse fears.  Meg Rosoff’s Jumpy Jack and Googily (2008) illustrated by Sophie Blackall features the odd couple, a large timorous snail Jack oblivious to the fact that his patient blue friend Googily is a monster.  Jack can’t enjoy a stroll because he sees danger lurking everywhere.  There’s a tree!  Could there be a monster behind it?  Googily obligingly goes over and checks even though it’s barely big enough to conceal a squirrel.  Oh no, there’s the tool shed–what if a monster is hiding inside?   Googily inspects the premises and reassures him no one there.  Coming home doesn’t quiet Jack’s nerves.  Googily can’t believe that his runaway imagination has conjured up a monster with long thin feet under the tea table, but he still makes sure there’s nothing there.   Of course, when they retire Jack makes Googily check under the bed.  Surprise! A sock is there, the one thing which terrifies the agreeable monster.  Seng Soun Ratanavanh’s George and His Nightime Friends (2020) must be the most beautiful and tranquil of any picture book dealing with insomnia. Alone at night, the solitary little boy George can’t fall asleep even after mentally travelling to marvellous places.  Once that stops, he suddenly becomes frightened by the dark and imagines monsters in the shadows.  When he wishes out loud for a friend, a little mouse answers and asks him to follow her downstairs, where he choses a book from Mole the librarian, listens to rabbit practice for a concert, takes a bath with a penguin afraid of water, plays badminton with a panda and then all of them enjoy sweets prepared by a pig in the kitchen. Now George is so relaxed he feels sleepy.  His new nighttime friends walk him back up the stairs and tuck him into bed.  Where did they come from? The sharp-eyes will see them in the form of toys on the floor or framed pictures hang on the wall of the stairway.  Perhaps they can return any and every night to play away George’s uneasiness.The “social story” by Certified Child Life Specialist Rachel Tepfer Copeland, I Can Be  A Superhero During a Lockdown, takes the bull by the horns, without ever mentioning an active shooter.  Instructions to obey the adult in charge, be absolutely quiet, and stay still are repeated over and over again like a drum roll puzzles until the reader realizes the author decided to write a book that would prepare her two special needs sons and all children like them for this kind of emergency by giving them jobs which when executed without deviation will elevate them to superherohood.  Copeland acknowledges the possibility of being frightened and wavering from the tasks in the child’s voice.  As he repeats the rules in each situation he is likely to encounter, their chanting keeps up his spirits and confidence that he will be able to do the jobs which will keep him, his friends and teacher safe.All four books have such kind, reassuring hearts it feels curmudgeonly to turn over the complicated questions they raise about protecting children from their fears. To what extent can young listeners learn from non-human characters when their behavior in the story really blurs the line between the two far more than an Aesopian fable?  Will the child feel betrayed by the eventual realization that the conflicting desire to fit into a social group with few or no compromises is rarely resolved joyfully–or outgrown. If the characters can’t two and two together, will the reader pick up on the illogicality of fearing a creature with a heart of gold with bug eyes, sharp teeth that curl into a dreadful smile, horrible  scary hair, two fingers on each hand, and long thin feet?  How far should an illustrator go reversing the associations of the shadowy black night?  The only projection of George’s fears in the gorgeous dreamscape drawing in a palette of greens is the patch of floral wallpaper with a repeat of carnivorous plants over his shoulder.  As much as I like the clever books by Thone, Rosoff and Blackall, and Ratanvanh, they have the luxury of sidestepping fear by aestheticizing or poking fun at it.  By comparison Copeland’s blunt solution ends up being surprisingly moving because of the way she urges the child to embrace strength and not weakness associated with difference.  He is shown that obeying and doing his jobs it is possible to triumph against the odds and protect others.  It is too bad to have to admit in real life it may not turn out so well.

A True Story About African Girls in The Slave’s Friend (1835-1838), the First Abolitionist Periodical for Children

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The Slave’s Friend. New York: American Anti-slavery Society, 1836-1838. (Cotsen 6598)

Because The Slave’s Friend was a “first,” certain facts are well known.  The monthly issues for children between six and 12 cost just a penny.  The editor was Lewis Tappan, the brother of the abolitionist Arthur,  the printer Ransom G. Wilson, and the illustrator the well-known wood cutter Alexander Andersen.  It was one of four publications The American Anti-Slavery Society launched in the early 1830.  In order to publicize its activities, the early numbers of the Friend were distributed free through the Society’s postal campaign to flood the southern states with abolitionist literature.  Incidents like the burning of bags of AASS pamphlets in Charleston, South Carolina post office proved great publicity for the organization.

Until recently, commentary on the periodical’s miscellaneous contents has been fairly cursory, as if the ways Tappan used to persuade his readership to accept the Society’s advocacy of immediate emancipation by non-violent means were self-evident.  Like any abolitionist publication, anecdotes of cruelty suffered by enslaved people figure prominently.  Should their sources be identified?  Should they be queried for accuracy? When reprinted from elsewhere, to what extent are they differ from the source material?

I decided to use as a test case a story in the July 1835 issue of The Slave’s Friend about two little girls named Joggy and Lorina.

The Slave’s Friend. July 1835

The Slave’s Friend. July 1835

My assumption that their story was probably reprinted from an earlier source was wrong:  it was literally hot off the press, based on articles about Captain Caleb Miller of the brig America, who brought them to America, that were run in The New Bedford Mercury and Boston Morning Post in June and early July.  Tappan seems to have drawn on the July 3 article in the Boston paper, which announced that Miller was charged with kidnapping and piracy in order to sell the two girls as slaves.  His story that the girls were given to him and he planned to raise them as his own was not believed.  He held on $3000 bail.

The Slave’s Friend. July 1835

Miller’s trial was closely watched by the abolitionist community because it would be the first case arising from the violation of United States laws against the African slave trade (The New Bedford Mercury suggested that “certain abolitionist gentlemen” had brought the case to light precisely for this reason.)   Tappan’s follow up article, however, focuses almost entirely on the girls’ whereabouts and welfare as more compelling way to rouse his readers’ sympathies than the details of Miller’s trial.  He went so far as to state that President Jackson deported Joggy and Lorena to Africa, a claim probably made on the strength of Jackson being listed as a supporter of the American Colonlzation Society (later revealed as  without his consent).

Reportage of the trial says little about the girls in comparison with Miller.  The Mercury, which was not noted for abolitionist sympathies, gave him a good character. The brig’s owners, New Bedford merchants William H. Hathaway and William S. Swain, testified that the ship had been trading on the African coast since 1830, but Miller had no orders to take slaves.  Testimony revealed that when the America was anchored in the “Rio Danda,” Miller was asked to transport 30 Africans to an undisclosed destination and his employer Swain claimed “it is common practice to take passengers, who are slaves, from one port to another, on the Coast of Africa,” as well as observing that “domestic slavery” was as common there as in the South.

Additional testimony from the trial in the August 7th Mercury via the New York Herald offered more information about the girls, confirming that they were  two places and therefore not related, that one was older than the other, and they disembarked the America on different days.  Their names are given as Lorena and Joarkana.   A crewman of color claimed responsibility for alerting New York  authorities about them being on board.  During the trial the girls made an appearance to “excite sympathy and to prejudice the jury against the prisoner.  There was no earthly reason for their being brought into court—and it reflected no credit on those who had ordered it to be done.” The captain and the mate were acquitted in New York on the charged of receiving and transporting Africans with the intent to sell them as slaves; however Miller was found guilty of bringing them back to be “held to labor.”

My effort to determine if the story of Joggy and Lorina was real did not exactly lay the matter to rest.   In making the girls’ story known, the newspapers had their own agendas, as did The Slave’s Friend.  It seems pretty clear that they were being used to rouse the public’s feelings and they drop out of the accounts without readers learning what ultimately happened to them.  More research will be needed to fill the blanks and reconcile the discrepancies in the narratives of Joggy and Lorina—and perhaps other scholars will investigate the origins of additional anecdotes about enslaved children in The Slave’s Friend.