LARS'S LIBRARY: GOOD BOOKS ARE FOR EVERYBODY

Most people see the value in reading aloud to young children and letting them see adults reading. Research shows such activities are powerful aids in promoting the mastery of literacy skills.

As children move beyond the lower elementary grades, adults often let this kind of shared reading experience lapse. Adults read their “adult” books and kids read “children’s literature” or “young adult” novels.

I would like to make a case for a continuance of literary community with children as they grow, and propose that we go beyond reading to kids and read with them.

There are obvious and didactic reasons for such an argument. Being able to discuss a book with a young person will make the experience richer and deeper for that young person. But as someone who reads a great many children’s books, I can tell you that there is a less altruistic reason for shared reading.

You may find yourself enjoying children’s books as much as children do.

Anyway, isn’t the categorization of good literature rather arbitrary? Is To Kill a Mockingbird a children’s book? What about Huckleberry Finn? Tony Earley’s Jim the Boy was marketed to adults, and became a best-seller. Earley called it “a children’s book for adults.”

Two of the best books I read last year were the two volumes of The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing by M.T. Anderson. They were marketed to young adults, but one might call them adults’ books for children.

Octavian Nothing truly makes history come alive, giving a voice to African-Americans enslaved at a time when their owners were fighting for freedom in the American Revolution. It is complex, yet electrifying and involving—an epic saga that takes place during the birth of a nation and the age of enlightenment.

Powerful, gripping, and ultimately hopeful, this is an important work of literature.

Anderson is an astonishing writer, a master of language and character development. Categorizing The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing as a young adult novel doesn't acknowledge the broad audience it should reach.

This year, I read Terry Pratchett’s Nation, another work ostensibly for young people that is simply a marvelous read for anybody.

Nation is placed in an alternate Nineteenth Century that contains Darwin, but where science and faith come to an understanding. Where Europeans familiarly tramp across the globe, but colonialism and cultural imperialism are turned upside down and inside out.

If it sounds fascinating, it is. And like Anderson, Pratchett is a wonderful writer, with a style that is exquisite and amusing.

Recently, I saw a fantastic exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, a retrospective of the creations of William Kentridge, consisting of large galleries filled with multiple screenings of that artist’s intriguing videos. One room served as an homage to George Méliès, an early silent-movie director, famous for the iconic image of a rocket ship landing in the eye of the man in the moon.

My appreciation for this installation was immensely increased by my readings of the ground-breaking The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, a marriage of novel and graphic novel, and the discussions I have had with children about the book. It’s an amazing work, and also an homage to Méliès.

I am lucky enough to have a job where I enrich children’s lives by reading with them. But reading children’s books has enriched my own life as well. I have received pleasure and knowledge equal to that of any other reading I do. You can, too.