In this look at Australian librarians’ taste in children’s literature we see that things down under are pretty much the same as in the States. Ugh. In regards to Enid Blyton, the article claims:
Blyton has no place in contemporary Australian children’s literature. She has been killed off by political correctness and altruistic school librarians. Blyton is an anathema but curiously not to children. Australian children didn’t drift away from Enid Blyton. They were told not to read her.
Australian children’s fiction is a lot more explicit, less funny, less friendly and family oriented than Blyton’s English world.
The author of the article, hems and haws and finally suggests that:
. . . some children who are thrust books about dysfunctional families, abusive parents, incest, same-sex relationships, drug addiction or adoption can be confused and emotionally destabilised.
Enid Blyton “is one of the most successful childrenÂ’s writers ever. Her prolific output of 700 books has been translated into more than 40 languages and sold in excess of 400 million copies worldwide.”
Another article says, “She could write 10,000 words a day, which enabled her to keep her prodigous output. In 1940 eleven books were published under her name,” so it’s not too surprising to read further, that, “In the 1950s and 1960s Blyton was attacked by critics and librarians imposed sanctions on her writings owing to the books’ limited vocabulary. Main target for anti-Blytons was Noddy, ‘the most egocentric, joyless, snivelling and pious anti-hero in the history of British fiction.’ Rumours were spread, that she did not write all her stories.”
I’m reading all this and thinking that her work must be something like Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew stuff. Go to Amazon and read the reader reviews and you’ll see that adults loved the books as kids, which reinforces my belief that she cranked out Hardy Boy quality. I’m thinking they have to be pretty lousy books and I’m not recommending them. (Though I am going to buy one to see for myself.) What I am doing is remarking on the fact that readers don’t necessarily want same-sex and suicide. They don’t necessarily want real and gritty and edgy when they read novels. Many of them want the stories about the happy elf family that Lemony Snicket urges us to try.
Ideally? I think we need to deal with today’s issues using plenty of humor along the way and in a way that leaves the reader full of hope. Librarians who think that suicidal homosexual kids need to have literary heroes who come out the closet and have wonderful sexual romps, are messed up. What suicidal homosexual kids need in literary heroes are High Kings like Peter, and repentant brothers and cousins, like Edmund and Eustace.
To glorify sinful sex in books aimed at the sexually sinful is like giving a bunch of thieves books that glorify stealing. What’s the good in that? Why not give them books that tell them to quit stealing and be noble? Why not stir up longings for God in their little hearts by giving them heroes that are noble, and honest, and true?
Oopsy. I’ve climbed up on that soap box again. Sorry. =0) Maybe I should shut up and go school my kids. Maybe I should teach them to read and then urge them to become librarians so they can work at turning this tide.
Addendum:
I get myself in trouble writing fast and not proofing. I think I should clarify that the problem with the Amazon reviews is not that adults loved the books as children but that they are the sole reviewers, it seems (I didn’t read them all). I didn’t see any reviews by new people who had just read the books and thought they were lovely.
We, many of us, loved Narnia when we were kids. But our kids love that magical land, also. They have not been updated, the kids don’t have new hairstyles and drive new cars and speak in new slang. Still the books are loved by each new generation. That is what I don’t see happening with Enid Blyton’s books and why I suspect that her 700 books, or however many there were, were not of the highest quality.
