In March 2014, ‘Let Books Be Books’ (#LetBooksBeBooks) decried ‘gender-specific’ children’s titles that were published specifically for boys or girls with marketing (over content) foremost in mind. ‘Let Books Be Books’ vilified reading material that seemed marketed purely to exploit gender preferences, rather than advance the quality of children’s literature; the argument (and it is a good one) was that the best children’s books and stories ought to transcend notions of gender (i.e. Harry Potter, His Dark Materials, etc.).
My sympathies were immediately aligned with ‘Let Books Be Books’, since I do think great literature for children indeed transcends gender. Yet I could see that books considered typically for girls (e.g. A Little Princess or Charlotte Sometimes) might still be excellent and yet not generally appeal to boys (and there would be nothing wrong with boys liking such books, either).
Though leaning more in favour of #LetBooksBeBooks, I decided to research a little and found out a few things. I did not know, for instance, that the practice of publishing fiction and magazines for separate readerships began during the Victorian era, and the idea of writing material for boys or for girls was even considered innovative. I also discovered, to my surprise, that Louisa M. Alcott’s classic stories were commissioned by her publisher, who wanted her to pen a book for girls; Alcott protested in a journal that ‘I don’t enjoy this sort of thing. Never liked girls or knew many’ (Wadsworth 2009, 42). Much as I love Little Women, this appealing to gender tastes seems so much more about the bottom line, as Michael O’Mara of Buster Books admitted to. It is understandable, and I know publishing is ultimately a business and that commissions must be able to sell if a publishing house is to survive and thrive. Yet it seems right to believe in the altruistic value of publishing good literature for young people, which brings fiscal profit, too. This is not only true of J.K. Rowling or J.R.R. Tolkien; authors like Diana Wynne Jones, Neil Gaiman, Philip Pullman and Roald Dahl have written books featuring protagonists of both genders, loved regardless by avid boy and girl readerships (ditto for picture book writers like Allan Ahlberg or Dr Seuss). These sorts of reads are the ones that are reissued, reprinted, a revenue source for the long term as well as a continual stream of literary nurturing for the children growing up with them.
I interpreted #LetBooksBeBooks as a plea for this sort of creativity in publishing; it came to me as a welcome nod to the need for creativity over commerce when publishing books for children. Here’s hoping that continues.
Sources
My sympathies were immediately aligned with ‘Let Books Be Books’, since I do think great literature for children indeed transcends gender. Yet I could see that books considered typically for girls (e.g. A Little Princess or Charlotte Sometimes) might still be excellent and yet not generally appeal to boys (and there would be nothing wrong with boys liking such books, either).
Though leaning more in favour of #LetBooksBeBooks, I decided to research a little and found out a few things. I did not know, for instance, that the practice of publishing fiction and magazines for separate readerships began during the Victorian era, and the idea of writing material for boys or for girls was even considered innovative. I also discovered, to my surprise, that Louisa M. Alcott’s classic stories were commissioned by her publisher, who wanted her to pen a book for girls; Alcott protested in a journal that ‘I don’t enjoy this sort of thing. Never liked girls or knew many’ (Wadsworth 2009, 42). Much as I love Little Women, this appealing to gender tastes seems so much more about the bottom line, as Michael O’Mara of Buster Books admitted to. It is understandable, and I know publishing is ultimately a business and that commissions must be able to sell if a publishing house is to survive and thrive. Yet it seems right to believe in the altruistic value of publishing good literature for young people, which brings fiscal profit, too. This is not only true of J.K. Rowling or J.R.R. Tolkien; authors like Diana Wynne Jones, Neil Gaiman, Philip Pullman and Roald Dahl have written books featuring protagonists of both genders, loved regardless by avid boy and girl readerships (ditto for picture book writers like Allan Ahlberg or Dr Seuss). These sorts of reads are the ones that are reissued, reprinted, a revenue source for the long term as well as a continual stream of literary nurturing for the children growing up with them.
I interpreted #LetBooksBeBooks as a plea for this sort of creativity in publishing; it came to me as a welcome nod to the need for creativity over commerce when publishing books for children. Here’s hoping that continues.
Sources
Wadsworth, Sarah A. 2009. ‘Louisa May Alcott and the Rise of Gender-Specific Series Books’, Children’s Literature: Classic Texts and Contemporary Trends, edited by Montgomery, Heather, and Watson, Nicola. Houndmills, England: Palgrave Macmillan.
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