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Cammie McGovern's Just My Luck is new this year (2016) from HarperCollins. A reader wrote to ask me about it, because Indian in the Cupboard is part of the story.
I started reading it two days ago and kept setting it aside. The main character is a 4th grader named Benny. His brother, George, is in 6th grade, and is "medium-functioning autistic" (p. 16). I hope Disability in Kidlit finds someone to review it. Some time back, I read their review of Anne Ursu's The Real Boy. I love that book. One thing that stood out in the review was that the story is told from the perspective of the autistic child, rather than from outsider's who gawk at him. There are pages in Just My Luck where it feels like someone is gawking at George.
I got to page 49 and paused. At that point in the story, Benny is with his older brother, Martin, who is on his first date with Lisa. They go into a Barnes & Noble, where Lisa asks Benny what he's reading (p. 49):
She said she knew it sounded childish but her favorite books were still the Little House on the Prairie series that she read when she was in Mr. Norris's class. "I just love them," she said."
Benny has a crush on Lisa, and so, he says he loves them, too. He's never read them, but their mother used to make them watch the TV show. Two weeks later when she's visiting their house, Benny pretends to be reading
Little House in the Big Woods. Lisa exclaims that it is her favorite book.
I wonder if McGovern read that book recently? In
Little House in the Big Woods, Pa tells the girls how he, as a young boy, would play that he was a mighty hunter stalking wild animals and Indians. Stalking Indians. Do you remember that part of that book? Do you know any other book for kids that has someone hunting another person or people?
I wanted to throw
Just My Luck across the room when I got to that part and I want to ask McGovern if she remembers that passage.
On page 64, Lisa tells Benny that Mr. Norris read
Indian in the Cupboard aloud to them when she was in his class and that he dressed up as characters, too. That was five years back. Benny is in Mr. Norris's class now and he's not done anything like that. Benny tells his mom that Mr. Norris wasn't reading
Indian in the Cupboard to them, so, his mom gets the book from the library and starts reading it aloud, doing the voices as she does (p. 72):
It turns out he's [Little Bear] not only alive, but he's a real person from history, an Iroquois who's fighting battles with the French and English. So Mom has to talk like him, which George loves because he doesn't talk very well. George keeps laughing until Mom tells him it isn't really funny. "In fact," she says, "it perpetuates a lot of negative stereotypes about Native Americans, which is probably why Mr. Norris isn't reading this book out loud to his class anymore."
Then she keeps on reading. She's decided, apparently, that she's going to perpetuate those stereotypes herself. That doesn't add up, does it? And it doesn't seem very caring of her to lay into George like she did, either. She's deliberately being an animated reader, which prompts a response from her autistic son, and she scolds him?! And keeps reading?!
Throughout the next chapters, Benny thinks about toys coming to life. He wants a cupboard so he can bring his Legos to life. Several times, he thinks about
Indian in the Cupboard as he develops the idea for how he'll use his Legos to make a movie. Later, they find out why Mr. Norris isn't doing the things he used to do. It isn't because he's recognized the problems in
Indian in the Cupboard. It is because he's got to take care of his own autistic son, and he's exhausted. He has no time or energy to do the things he used to do.
I don't like
Just My Luck. If Disability in Kidlit reviews it, I'll be back to point to their review. For now, the Native content alone is enough for me to say that I do not recommend
Just My Luck.
Back in November, The Guardian awarded David Almond its children's fiction prize for his novel, A Song for Ella Grey, which is a retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth.
I haven't read that novel, but I learned about it earlier this week when colleagues in children's literature began talking about a letter Lynne Reid Banks had written to The Guardian, objecting to the book being selected for its prize. (Banks is the author of The Indian in the Cupboard and its sequels. Readers of AICL likely know that there are many problems with that book. From the idea of a white child having life/death power over a Native person and responsibility for the care of that person, to the stereotypes that are throughout the book, the list of what-is-wrong with the series is long. I've written a little about it but am, today, thinking that I ought to do a chapter-by-chapter look at it.)
Subsequent to the letter Banks wrote to The Guardian, BBC's Radio 4 invited Almond and Banks to be on its Today program. I listened to, and transcribed the program, for those of you who might want to know what was said but are not able to listen to the archived segment.
Yesterday, The Guardian published a handful of letters others wrote in response to Banks. Among them is one by Perry Nodelman, who wrote:
But some people not yet 12 experience lesbian desire, and/or swear or drink; and others live with older people who drink, swear, and feel no need to hide their lesbianism. I assume, then, that what Banks really objects to is fiction for young people that diverges from a supposed norm of ideally innocent (and heteronormative) childlikeness. Such fiction rarely represents anything like what most young people experience, and exists mainly to assure adults that childhood is actually more innocent and ideal than it usually is. Those who chose Almond’s more honest novel as a prizewinner should be lauded for not sharing in this sad game. Perhaps novels about younger young people might win more prizes if writers could figure out how to make them less dishonest about the lives of “people up to the age of 12”.
Early in graduate school, I read Perry's books and articles on children's literature. His thinking has been important in my thinking, precisely because of what he said in his letter above about honesty and the lives of children.
As I think about what Banks said, I think she's stuck in that dishonest space Perry writes about, and in some way that I've yet to put into words, it echoes Meg Rosoff's objections to Myles Johnson's Large Fears. Here's my transcription:
BBC Radio 4
2/12/2015
Banks/Almond interview begins at the 2:45 hour mark
Moderator: David Almond is a celebrated writer for children and teenagers and he’s just won the Guardian children’s book prize, which is a big prize, for his novel, A Song for Ella Gray. Now, the novelist Lynne Reid Banks, first famous for The L-Shaped Room and then, author of many books, including The Indian in the Cupboard, for children, that sold many, many copies, went out and bought the book, as a result of that winning The Guardian children’s book prize. In fact, she bought two copies for her twelve-year old grandchildren. Then, having looked at them, she went back to the shop and handed them over because, and she said this in a letter to The Guardian itself,
“In the first five pages there is lesbian love, swearing, drinking, and enough other indications that, once again, this is not a book for children.”
Well, Lynne Reid Banks is with us, and David Almond joins us from our Newcastle studio. I suppose, David, to defend yourself, we’ll talk to you in a minute. Lynne Reid Banks, were you surprised? Were you shocked? And if so, why?
Banks: Well, I was surprised because I’d read David Almond’s really beautiful description of how this book was inspired by the Odyssey and how this had worked in schools and I’m certainly not…
Moderator: And you’re an admirer of David’s writing…
Banks: A great admirer. He wrote Skellig. He’s done some wonderful books. What I’m quarreling with is The Guardian, for giving this prize under the name of a children’s book award. If only there were a separate award for teen aged, young adult writing, then he should have won it, I’m quite sure. I haven’t read the book yet because I am so disappointed that its obviously not suitable for what I call and categorize as children, which are people up to the age of 12.
Moderator: I suppose we’re getting into a categorization argument, aren’t we, David Almond, but just explain who you were thinking of when you wrote the book, what kind of age? I know you don’t target it in that way but what kind of age do you think the readers would be?
Almond: When you write you really don’t think about the target age. You think about the characters you’re writing. You think about the drama that’s involved in the story. The drama is described, narrated, by a teenager of about 17. So I had a sense that yes, maybe the main readership would be of that kind of age.
Moderator: What they call young adults in bookshops?
Almond: Yes, young adults. But this book is being read by 12-year olds, 13-year olds, and I’m getting fantastic responses from them. They recognize something about the beautiful troubling drama of growing up.
Moderator: Give us a little extract. Could you? Just to give us a feel and then we’ll talk to Lynne Reid Banks again about her feelings. Just tell us where we are in the story and just give us a few lines.
Almond: This is right at the start, where Lynne wrote about and Claire and Ella are on a sleepover together and Claire is telling the story.
“We were in bed, the two of us together. Ella turned to me, and she was smiling. “Claire! I’m in love with Orpheus." "But he hardly even knows you bliddy exist!" She pressed her finger to my lips. "I keep on hearing his song! Its like I’ve known him forever! Oh, Ella, it's destined! I love him and he'll love me. And if you hadn’t called me that day and told me to listen," she kissed me, "none of this would have happened, would it?" I pulled me clothes on. She kissed me again. Thud went my heart. Thud.
Moderator: Well, that’s pretty powerful writing, Lynne, isn’t it?
Banks: I think David Almond is one of the best writers for young people that we have. But 17 year old adults are not children and although, of course, I didn’t expect him to say ‘thank you so much Guardian, I reject the prize’ because this book is not for children…
Moderator: Let’s not have an argument about The Guardian. Its quite interesting… What are the problems. If you go into a bookshop these days and people often comment on this, is that books are categorized by age.
Banks: No, they’re not. Are they?
Moderator: Yes, I’m afraid they are and it drives authors mad because 10-12, 8-10, 12-15…
Banks: Oh I see what you mean…
Moderator: Children’s don’t think like that, do they?
Banks: No but I think if you would append the word children to a prize as is also with the Carnegie Medal which is the highest award we give here for children’s writing, and if year after year you give it to dark, dystopian, violent, in some cases, downright cruel books, I don’t know quite where people who are writing for children, which of course David Almond has also done, where do we come in? We don’t seem to have a prize of our own anymore.
Moderator: Well, David, you’ve won the Carnegie Medal yourself, for Skellig, I think, what would you say about a parent who is listening to this who may have an 11-12-13 year old who reads a lot and is quite emotionally secure as you can be at that age, and hear this discussion and say ‘hmmm this is the rewriting of the Orpheus story by you, its pretty steamy for a 12 year old… Should I buy it or shouldn’t I?”
Almond: Well of course I’d say… (laughter)
Moderator: Asking an author to say ‘don’t buy my book' yes, tricky one but you know what I’m asking you…
Almond: Absolutely. But the Orpheus story itself is such a powerful, elemental tale. When I was a teacher I used to tell the Orpheus story to 9-10-11 year olds. They were totally gripped by it and this is just a new version of that story. And the thing about children’s books is if you go into the children’s book department you will find all kinds of wonderful, experimental, creative, energetic books. That’s where people should be looking, and not thinking about where should we categorize this book or that book. This is an amazing world. People really believe that books can change peoples lives.
Banks: And they can.
Almond: And they can.
Moderator: A lovely moment of agreement. Lynne Reid Banks. David Almond in Newcastle, thank you both very much indeed.
February 6, 2013
Dear Librarians at Champaign Public Library,
While reading The News Gazette yesterday, I read that you had prepared a list of books called "110 Books for Every Child." When I read "every child," I wondered if you were thinking about all children in the area. Were you thinking about American Indian children, too? We are part of the Champaign-Urbana community.
When I clicked on the link and opened the list, I was glad to see some titles on it, like Bud Not Buddy and The Giver and Poppy. But I am disappointed that it also includes Little Town on the Prairie.
On page 257, Laura is amongst the crowds gathered in the schoolhouse, waiting for the "Literary" (performance) to begin. Here's an excerpt:
Then up the center aisle came marching five black-faced men in raggedy-taggedy uniforms. White circles were around their eyes and their mouths were wide and red. Up onto the platform they marched, then facing forward in a row suddenly they all advanced, singing, "Oh, talk about your Mulligan Guards! These darkies can't be beat!"
The five men take the stage (p. 258):
Here's the text on that page, just above the illustration:
When the dancing stopped, the jokes began. The white-circled eyes rolled, the big red mouths blabbed questions and answers that were the funniest ever heard. Then there was music again, and even wilder dancing.
Darkies? Big red mouths?!
Earlier in the book, Laura and Mary listen to Pa tell them a story about how, when he was a little boy, he'd pretend he was hunting Indians (page 53):
When I was a little boy, not much bigger than Mary, I had to go every afternoon to find the cows in the woods and drive them home. My father told me never to play by the way, but to hurry and bring the cows home before dark, because there were bears and wolves and panthers in the woods.
One day I started earlier than usual, so I thought I did not need to hurry. There were so many things to see in the woods that I forgot that dark was coming. There were red squirrels in the trees, chipmunks scurrying through the leaves, and little rabbits playing games together in the open places. Little rabbits, you know, always have games together before they go to bed.
I began to play I was a mighty hunter, stalking the wild animals and the Indians. I played I was fighting the Indians, until all woods seemed full of wild men, and then all at once I heard the birds twittering 'good night.'
Stalking wild animals and Indians?!
I'm not calling for this book to be removed from the library, but I do think it ought not be endorsed as a "good book" for "every child." I don't think its good for any child at all!
Imagine reading it aloud to an African American or an American Indian child. How would you manage those particular excerpts?
I know people who say that reading these books lets kids know that there was racism in America's past, but, isn't endorsing them in 2009 as "good books" a bad idea? Children should learn about racism in the past and present, too, but might that be better done in another way?
See--if you're reading this book aloud to a child, you're probably doing it in a way that will cause them to like the characters. And then you're going to interrupt the reading to explain that, essentially Pa was either a racist, or, engaged in racist thinking. It seems a better idea (to me) to select a book to enjoy that doesn't do that sort of thing.
I wonder how many people actually take time to explain those passages as racist?
My guess is that a lot of people just blow right past them, thereby inserting racist ideology into the minds of the children that are being read to, and/or affirming the already-existing racist ideology that has crept into that child's world view.
And---if a child is reading this book alone (without an adult to mediate it), how will that child make sense of those excerpts?
I have similar concerns about other books on the list and am sharing brief notes on them:
The Indian in the Cupboard is very popular, but it makes people into the playthings of children. This is especially troubling because of the identities of the characters. In it, you have a white child manipulating the life and death of an Indian man.
Island of the Blue Dolphins has stereotypes in it and the information it provides is outdated. Today, we know so much more about the people involved in this story. This book doesn't accurately portray them. Shouldn't we set it aside in favor of terrific stories that don't misrepresent someone, especially when that someone is a group for which most American have little substantive knowledge?
We keep recycling romantic and stereotyped ideas and images of American Indians. Maybe that is what makes it possible for a book like
Walk Two Moons to win awards. It, unfortunately, has a great many stereotypes of American Indians in it.
As I noted earlier, I'm not asking you to remove the books from the library, but I do think their place on a list of "good" books ought to be reconsidered. Perhaps if they were removed from the list, you could replace them with award-winning books that provide children with accurate knowledge about American Indians. Given our proximity to the Great Lakes, Louise Erdrich's
The Birchbark House and its sequels would be terrific additions to the list.
Sincerely,
Debbie Reese
American Indians in Children's Literature
Though the toy Indians seen in Indian in the Cupboard are not available in the numbers they once were, they still appear in interesting places...
This morning, I was reading Huff Post's "Uncommon Items to Put in the Dishwasher" and item #2 is a plastic toy Indian. Here's a screenshot:
Where, I wonder, did they get it? How and why did they choose it over something else?!
Better Book Titles. The site is new (to me) and interesting... Its description is
"This blog is for people who do not have thousands of hours to read book reviews or blurbs or first sentences. I will cut through the cryptic crap and give you the mat of the story in one condensed image...."
The blog archive reaches back to July 2010. There are Better Book Titles for a handful of children's and young adult books. To the right you see the Better Book Title for
Indian in the Cupboard, by Lynne Reid Banks, posted on
April 5th, 2011.
For those of you who object to obscenity, you best not look at the site. For those of you who enjoy bawdy and edge humor, you can see thumbnails of the entire set
here.
Relocation---for those who did not learn about it in school---was a federal government policy where the goal was assimilation that would also result in the weakening of tribal identity and thereby the ultimate demise of Native Nations.
The creator of the Better Title suggests that putting Indians under the full control of children, where the child has power over the life and death of an Indian by putting (relocating) that Indian in a cupboard, is worse than the actual Relocation policy.
My oldest hit the double digits this Friday, and oh, what celebrating there was!
I was all ready for that. I'd made one cake, bought another, wrapped the presents, gotten the house ready for the onslaught of ten year who would pour into it the next day. We were ready to celebrate.
What I wasn't expecting was the trepidation. Not mine. Hers.
DD: Mama, should I be excited?
Me: (trying to hide surprise) Sure. You're turning ten. That's a big deal.
DD: I don't want to get older.
Me: Why not?
DD: I like being nine. I want to be nine for forever.
Me: Really?
I didn't totally get it. I was one of those kids who was nine going on nineteen. So come Saturday night, I went into the slumber party/night of silly 10 year old fun trying to catch glimpses not only of the allure of kiddom she sees but of its magic.
You know, I must have been blind as a kid. There was a Jupiter Jump, cookie cake, water balloon fights, sleepover with ten girls, movies - The Indian in the Cupboard, Hotel for Dogs, Marley and Me - gummy bears, popcorn, donuts, swinging, and laughing. Oh, was there laughing!
Most of all, there was abandon. Abandon to swim in it all, in the moment, in the fun, the silliness, the excitement, and the total exhaustion.
What was I thinking trying to grow up so fast??
I understand now why she is worried about getting older. Worried about losing that part of childhood and all that goes with it.
She's a smart kid, smarter than her mom. Hopefully, some of adulthood will eventually appeal to her. But after Saturday night, I get why there's no hurry getting there. There's so much to see until then. I'm glad I get to see it with her.
The second passage you quote isn't from LITTLE TOWN ON THE PRAIRIE as you state. Have you read it?
Anonymous,
A correction to the post has been made.
Thank you,
Debbie