I am a pacifist, and, as such, I am very sensitive to images of violence. This blog has heretofore been used exclusively to discuss issues surrounding L. Frank Baum and the Oz series. Baum, too, was highly sensitive to images of violence in children’s literature, on the one hand, lauding fairy tales for fostering imagination in children, but deriding them, on the other hand, for their (often graphic) depictions of violence. Reading the works of the Grimm brothers, one is struck by the overt discussions of bloody violence (Rapunzel’s beau being blinded by thorns in the eyes stands out in my mind). It was with this in mind that Baum wrote in the introduction to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that his book would dispense “with all the horrible and blood-curdling incidents devised by their authors to point a fearsome moral to each tale.” Baum was, by and large, true to his vision of pleasing, relatively violence-free storytelling—the general scariness of the film version of the Wicked Witch aside.
Arguably, fairy tales were never initially intended to serve as children’s literature, but that doesn’t imply that children’s literature hasn’t (from its inception) been a violent literary landscape. The German tales of Shock-headed Peter (Der Struwwelpeter [1845]) were filled with harrowing punishments for children’s misbehavior. Even Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is filled with jokes about the death of children: falling off houses, drowning in pools of their own tears, or being decapitated (“Off with her head!”). Watership Down is a violent little book. Without belaboring the point too much, nineteenth century children’s literature is frequently extremely violent.
This, of course, begs the question: how should we feel about exposing children to violent tales? Should we take the Baum approach? Or is there reason to believe that violence in children’s literature is acceptable (or perhaps even beneficial)?
In the wake of The Graveyard Book winning the Newbery Medal, Neil Gaiman appeared on The Colbert Report in which he had to address that very question. Gaiman’s book is a wonderful case-in-point. The book begins with the bloody murder of a toddler’s entire family and his escape to a nearby graveyard. I’ve included a link to the interview here, if you wish to see it for yourself, but Gaiman brings up exactly the same argument. The main conflict in The Tale of Peter Rabbit is Peter’s attempts to stay out of one of Mr. McGreggor’s meat pies. Even literature for very young children is replete with allusions to (if not descriptions of) many violent acts.
http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/221843/march-16-2009/neil-gaiman
I am currently working pretty heavily on finishing my book about horror films that take place in educational institutions. One of the central issues of the work concerns how school violence is depicted on film. I have been surprised (after having seen dozens and dozens of horror films) that despite the gory, bloody violence, they tend to be much more responsible in their depictions of violence than their action counterparts. The victims of the violence in horror films are terrified, their family and friends mourn for them; the horror film frequently focuses on the effects of violence in a way that action films simply don’t. For a vivid example, compare The Last House on the Left with Death Wish. Both films feature a man who pursues vigilante justice after his daughter is brutally attacked—but one glorifies the vigilantism and the other uses it to explore how that response causes a man to lose his humanity. In the end, The Last House on the Left is far more brutally violent and difficult to watch, but the points that the film makes about that violence create a far more valuable film than Death Wish (a film which I see as unabashedly counterproductive to any reasonable discussion of societal violence). The broader point I am trying to make with respect to children’s literature is a related one. I am not especially concerned with whether a text for children is violent, but how that text is violent.
I have a four-year old. We talk regularly about what are inappropriate forms of touching. Frequently, my wife will come into the room to see what all the screaming is about when my daughter and I are practicing how we would scream if someone touched us in our private areas. The easiest way to create a child who will become a victim of violence is not to talk about violence. In this respect, it is imperative that we expose children to violent literature.
It can’t be just any violent literature, though. I was a child of the 1980s. As such, I was exposed to more than my fair share of G.I. Joe Cartoons.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gc8mVs2H4Vc
The problem with most violent texts for children is that they don’t treat violence responsibly. They create false good/evil dichotomies and they depict the use of violence as acceptable, if your cause is just… and they don’t encourage anyone to question whether their cause is just. Whether it is the preponderance of comic book superhero tales, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, G.I. Joe, etc., etc., our children are bombarded with exactly the sort of violent tale they should NOT be watching. In fact, our children would benefit much more from seeing disturbing images of violence. Popular children’s culture creates a climate in which violence is rarely, if ever, disturbing. But, the fact of the matter is, we should want our children to be disturbed by violent images. We shouldn’t be speaking out against texts for children that present violence as scary, dangerous, and detrimental, because that is exactly the attitude toward violence we should be hoping to create in our children. We should be speaking out against those texts for children that show violence without showing its ugly effects.
With this in mind, I am having a daddy-daughter date with my eleven-year old tomorrow. She and I read The Hunger Games together, and she and I are going to see the movie together. Judging from the books, this will be a film containing graphic depictions of violent acts against children, perpetrated by children. The thing is, Katniss is an unwilling participant in the violence. She carries the deaths of her friends around with her for the rest of her life. We see how his own violent past drove Haymitch to substance abuse and mental illness. Yes, the premise of the film, teenaged children being forced to fight to the death for television entertainment, is shocking. It should be shocking! If it weren’t shocking, that would be the problem, because then we wouldn’t be thinking about the violence or its effects at all. (Plus, it isn’t really any more shocking than 1954’s Lord of the Flies, so we’ve had a few years to get used to the idea that this might be appropriate material for young adults.)
I love L. Frank Baum’s stories. Oz is a safe fairyland in which not-so-dangerous adventures occur, odd and magical creatures are met, and everything turns out wonderfully in the end. I’m sure some of my pacifist attitudes were shaped by my childhood love of the books. More of them, however, were a result of that hollow feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I see an image of violence against an innocent…
Katniss Everdeen is not a superhero. She is a normal, teenage girl who loves her family and would do anything for them. Her story demonstrates the kind of change that can result from one average girl having the courage to stand up for what it right. Tomorrow, I am taking my daughter to what will likely be a disturbingly violent film. I am doing it because I want her to become the type of person who believes in doing the right thing, speaking and acting out against violence whenever she sees it, and who will have the tools to fix the world that we adults broke.
