AN INDISCRIMINATE CHILDHOOD by C. Ryann Noe Kathryn R. Kent, Advisor a Thesis Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requiremen
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AN INDISCRIMINATE CHILDHOOD AGE FLUIDITY IN J. M. BARRIE’S PETER AND WENDY By C. Ryann Noe Kathryn R. Kent, Advisor A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Bachelor of Arts with Honors in English WILLIAMS COLLEGE Williamstown, Massachusetts May 19th, 2016 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS First and foremost, I would like to thank my advisor, Professor Katie Kent, for her consistent enthusiasm, for ceaselessly pushing me towards argumentative precision, and for patiently bearing all of my particularities. I could not have asked for a more effective guide. Further, thank you to Professor Gage McWeeny for heading the honors program, and for leading a very productive fall colloquium. Thank you to Professor Janneke van de Stadt for teaching the course I waited three years to take. Thank you to Willy for your unending patience with both my laments and effusions (there surely were plenty of both). Thank you to all of the friends and strangers who indulged my questions of what you read as a child, and how you read as a child, and whether or not you wish you were still a child. Finally, thank you to my parents for building me a childhood to which I am always happy to return. A children's story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story. -C. S. LEWIS CONTENTS Introduction………………………………………………………….1 Chapter One: The Way We Read Now……………………………….4 Chapter Two: The Particular Case of Peter………………………….23 Chapter Three: The Complications of Form………………………...52 Bibliography………………………………………………………....70 Noe INTRODUCTION THE DELIGHT OF NEARLY READING I read Peter and Wendy nearly four times before I ever read it once. By “nearly” I naturally mean that I read the entirety of the text, up to the last chapter. This was neither for lack of interest, nor distraction, but because of that age-old truth that you can never read a book for the first time twice. My hair-brained solution to this conundrum was simple: I’ll delay the first time for as long as possible, while still reading it in the mean time. I fancied myself particularly devious and was successfully able to live in the perpetual delight of suspense for a full five years. I finally read the final chapter two weeks before beginning this project, mainly out of a defeated realization that I should in fact have read the book that would be my primary text. Latent in this story lies the conviction that there is a certain pleasure to be found in unknowingness. This is a belief that simultaneously plagued and inspired this project. As Chapter One will make readily apparent, I struggled to reconcile my joy in gaily reading children’s texts with my joy in scrupulously dissecting them. Criticism, like endings, at times seemed to “de-delight” the text, to replace wonder with arid understanding, and to end the play. I began to question whether literary criticism was fundamentally opposed to what I wanted children’s books to do. And so my thesis about children’s literature suddenly became a thesis about whether or not I should be doing a thesis about children’s literature. This internal struggle reflects much more than just my own apprehension; it illustrates greater questions that surround the critical reading of the children’s genre. How should the literary critic read a children’s book? Is it problematic to ignore the child 1 Noe audience, and to analyze children’s books just as one would analyze “adult” books? Throughout this project I want to be mindful of this procedure: the way that we are reading, the way that we are analyzing, not just what amounts from the process of doing so. I don’t affect to assume that there is one “right” way of reading children’s books, but this project is an attempt to think more intentionally about the relation between the mode of criticism and the matter it is employed upon. I do not precisely remember how Peter Pan (in all of its incarnations, including the novel Peter and Wendy) became the primary text of this project, but I do know why it is so helpful in probing these questions. Even those who have never read the story know of its emphatic demand, “Clap if you believe in fairies,” despite the fact that this particular address is from the original play production, and does not actually appear in either the novel or Disney movie, the two forms most readily accessible on the market today. Peter is known for engaging the audience, for demanding something from them. It is rife with direct address. It is this reader inclusion that makes Peter the perfect case study for questions related to audience. What happens when an adult claps their hands? What happens when an adult reads a book that is generically “children’s?” Why do we feel the need to delineate this audience, and what happens when a text, such as Peter and Wendy, refuses to do so? In order to address these questions, Chapter One first provides a critical backdrop, a brief history of the critical reading of children’s texts, in order to locate and substantiate this project’s prioritization of audience and direct address. In Chapter Two, we will examine our primary text, J. M. Barrie’s novel Peter and Wendy, analyzing its addresses to the reader, the “reader character” that they generate, and how this character affects the actual 2 Noe reader of the text. Chapter Three will examine the first instance of Peter Pan in J. M. Barrie’s adult novel The Little White Bird, as well as the 1953 Walt Disney Studios animated film, in order to evaluate how differing forms alter the novel’s construction of audience. As a whole this project aims to complicate the popular, yet reductive, reading of Peter as a story about the wonders of childhood and the horrors of adulthood, where adult and child are diametrically, even contentiously, opposed. Through a close reading of Peter’s constructed reader, the novel becomes a story of fluctuating age and temporality, and the experience of reading it becomes an age-allying act where both child and adult reader are incorporated into the performance. My aim is not to produce a polished final product whose work has all been done behind the scenes. I work to parade these processes, put them on display, air my own dissatisfactions, musings, inklings aloud, so as to anticipate my reader’s questions and subsequently address them together. As a result the project should read like a narrative of argumentative oscillations, a story about the act of critical work, rather than just an explication of its result. Further, in casting the reader as co-conspirator, through the use of the inclusive “we,” this project aims to maintain some rhetorical congruity with the direct addresses that it examines. 3 Noe CHAPTER ONE THE WAY WE READ NOW This is a project about a children’s book as analyzed by an adult.1 Already we see, if not an overt problem, an ostensible complication. Of what worth is an unintended reader’s criticism? Are any adult critic’s readings of Peter and Wendy merely greedy intrusions into a world meant for another? In order to address these questions, we begin with a history of the critical reading of the genre. In mapping the ways that children’s books have historically been read by scholars, we can diagnose the current state of literary criticism of the genre, and hopefully find a particular mode of reading that is able to critically elevate Peter, while also maintaining its children’s affiliation. While books have been written for Anglo-American children for at least the last three centuries, children’s books first garnered critical attention in Britain in the early nineteenth-century.2 Sarah Trimmer, educationalist, writer, and Sunday school enthusiast, is widely acknowledged as the first critic of the genre. Her periodical Guardian of Education ran from 1802 to 1806, and is the earliest known publication to regularly review children’s books; however, the journal was aimed not at scholars, but at mothers. Trimmer’s goal was to assist mothers in selecting “safe and good” 3 reading material that would bolster their children’s moral educations. This was not such an easy task, for as 1 Peter and Wendy was not originally written explicitly for children, as will be discussed in Chapter Three; however, since its original authorship, it has been appropriated by the children’s canon. Thus, to popular conception and generic definition it is a “children’s book” even if not originally written as one. 2 While the critical history of America is similar in ways to that of the United Kingdom, this project’s history focuses mostly upon the reading of children’s books in England since that is where Peter was first released. 3 Deborah Stevenson quoting Trimmer, “Classics and canons,” in The Cambridge Companion to Children’s Literature, ed. M.O. Grenby (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 109. 4 Noe Trimmer put it, “There is not a bad principle inimical to religion and virtue which can be named, that is not to be found in books for children.”4 5 Here she likely refers to the chapbooks (later known as Penny Dreadfuls) that lacked moral grounding and (perhaps resultantly) were “lapped up by children.”6 Her political conservatism and religious fervor tinged her reviews, reflecting priorities not atypical of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries when children’s texts were seen largely as tools for moral and evangelical development. With all of that said, the Guardian was transformative in its codification of the genre and its dissemination of serious literary assessment, and as the nineteenth-century wore on, other journals with educational bents began to follow suit.