It's not uncommon for children's authors to have a little chip on their shoulder. We're often asked 'but when are you going to write a book for adults?' as if the work we're sweating over isn't of much importance and the only readers that count are over eighteen. I doubt that authors of adult fiction, especially those with a literary bent, are ever asked when they are going to write a book for children. I don't find this question insulting any more. Just misguided. Those who ask it show little understanding of children's literature.
Reading Gretchen Gerzina's biography of Frances Hodgson Burnett is a good reminder of the enduring quality of children's literature. In her lifetime, FBH was compared with Charlotte Bronte and Henry James as one of the great novelists of the late 19th Century. She was a prolific author of adult fiction and yet the three books she is remembered for are only a fraction of her spectacular output: The Secret Garden, Little Lord Fauntleroy and A Little Princess. Ironically, The Secret Garden, which was written when FBH was in her sixties, was not considered one of her stand-out novels and yet in the course of the last hundred years it has become a timeless classic.
Perhaps every author of adult fiction should be asked "But when are you going to write a book for children?"
What we are remembered for
Missing Mothers - A Mother's Day Thought
When I was a young mother, I used to resent how invisible mothers were in children's fiction. Think about it: Both Mary and Colin in the Secret Garden were motherless along with Sarah from The Little Princess, Pippi Longstocking, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, Harry Potter, Bastian from Never Ending Story, and Ann of Green Gables, The Bastables in E. Nesbits books - to name but a few. The roll call of children in classic fiction whose mothers have died on them is long and venerable. Some of the afore named characters had also carelessly lost their fathers too but absent mothers probably outnumber absent fathers by two to one.
Recently, I read a review by Ruth Starke where she lamented the number of children's and YA books currently being published where the mothers were dead. But it strikes me the authors are only continuing a very old tradition of matricide in children's fiction. Why are mother's so often dead, disabled or totally absent from so much children's fiction?
It wasn't until I had written a few novels that I started to understand why 'getting rid of the mother' is such a key motif of books for younger readers. Mothers risk their lives to keep their children safe (which, essentially, makes them the heroes of the stories). Mothers discourage risk taking, try and prevent nasty situations from arising and generally thwart the possibility of children experiencing any heart-wrenching drama or action. C.S. Lewis could never have made the Narnia Chronicles work if he hadn't got the mothers out of the story as soon as possible. Lily Potter stood between Harry and Voldemort. If she had survived, Harry would have had to put up with her protecting him for the rest of his life and there would have only been one short book, not seven. Mothers simply take up too much space. Their heroism completely undermines the possibility of a child protagonist have a truly big adventure. Mothers stand between the child and the wider world ensuring their offspring reach adulthood safely. And wrecking millions of exciting stories, for which, in the real world, we are endlessly grateful.
In removing mothers from stories for children authors allow young readers to safely explore the world through fiction, to take risks in their imagination, to understand courage and fortitude without personally experiencing suffering. The absent mother in fiction is a reflection of how mothers are towering figures in reality.
The perfect author bio
Clunes is an eccentric town in Victoria - in the heart of the goldfields. I spent Saturday wandering around their leafy streets, enjoying their annual 'Back To Booktown' event. I loved the quiet intensity of a town full of books and readers. There were serious bookworms everywhere, lugging around shopping bags full of book booty. There were even those who cleverly came equipped with trolleys so they could manage their weighty hauls.
I was very modest in my purchases and mostly enjoyed browsing. But I couldn't resist buying a biography of the poet Alexander Pope by Edith Sitwell. (The image is of its back cover).
Both Pope and Sitwell were very eccentric characters so she is definitely the appropriate person to write his biography. As much as I've enjoyed (and puzzled over) both Pope and Sitwell's poetry, I'm ashamed to admit that what really inspired me to buy the book was its cover - specifically Sitwell's author bio. In case you find the print too small, it reads "She was educated privately and her principal recreation are reading and thinking about poetry, listening to music and silence."
Authors are often asked to submit short bios for book covers, festivals and public appearances. I always find it a cringeworthy exercise. It is so hard to summarise yourself, your life, your history, your interests and ideas in less than 150 words (try it and discover the cringe factor). I love Sitwell's neat encapsulation of her passions and their straightforward simplicity. I'd love to plagarise it: "Murray was educated in government schools and her principal recreation are reading and thinking about fiction, listening to music and silence... How beautifully simple and to the point!
