The Creation of the Child in Comparative Children's Literature
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Thresholds and reconnections: the creation of the child in comparative children’s literature by Julie M. Roy A dissertation submitted to Johns Hopkins University in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy 2015 Julie M. Roy All Rights Reserved Baltimore, Maryland April 2015 Dissertation Abstract: Thresholds and reconnections: the creation of the child in comparative children’s literature This dissertation follows the history of children’s literature (of the French and English languages) to draw a portrait of the psychological and educational repercussions it has on the audience it mobilizes. The assumption held that fiction created by adults for children gives a mirror image of – or an insight on – life may not obtain for children’s literature. The genre abounds with paradoxes – written by outsiders for beings that are often depicted as separate or other, encouraging children to live their childhood fully while teaching them the means to outgrow it, aiming to be both representative and generative, etc. – that raise the question of the genesis of the fictional child and its use. If childhood itself is a fiction, can the narrative analogies offered by the young protagonists be taken as serious tools to widen our knowledge of the child? With the support of interviews from authors and an inquiry conducted with editors of the genre, this dissertation reflects on children’s literature and questions the validity of its dualistic or simplifying nature to not only confront what being a child entails, but also what it means to be an adult. Under the direction of Dr. Jacques Neefs, Department of German and Romance Languages and Literatures, and Dr. Anand Pandian, Department of Anthropology, Johns Hopkins University. ii Intended to be blank iii Thresholds and reconnections: the creation of the child in comparative children’s literature by Julie M. Roy Under the direction of Dr. Jacques Neefs, Department of German and Romance Languages and Literatures, and Dr. Anand Pandian, Department of Anthropology Johns Hopkins University iv Table of Contents: Introduction ………………………………………………………………………………..1 Chapter 1: Extraordinary and ordinary: storying and imaginary play ………………………………………………………………………………..16 Chapter 2: “When I use a word […] it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less,” or the fascinating enigma of the child protagonist’s speech ………………………………………………………………………………..52 Chapter 3: The “child within,” or the question of the author’s credibility ………………………………………………………………………………..80 Chapter 4: Anthropomorphism or the empowerment of scale and imagery in children’s picture books ………………………………………………………………………………106 Chapter 5: “Who in the world am I?” – The great puzzle of metamorphosis ………………………………………………………………………………146 Chapter 6: “I am two,” or the power of the hybrid ………………………………………………………………………………184 Chapter 7: “Et tu es une fleur de ce bouquet, comme le poisson, comme le litchi et comme l’oiseau:” learning to learn through stories ………………………………………………………………………………217 v Chapter 8: Growing up “will be an awfully big adventure:” learning to be ………………………………………………………………………………245 Conclusion ………………………………………………………………………………270 Appendices ………………………………………………………………………………285 List of images and illustrations, with sources………………………………………………………………………323 Bibliography ………………………………………………………………………………328 Biography ………………………………………………………………………………362 vi Warning: Unless otherwise specified, all the translations of literary and critical works will be mine. vii All of us come to life in a sea of stories. They sketch what we desire and fear. They take us back to times and places we thought were gone and to others that we’ve never even imagined. Woven from the many threads of our experience, they form patterns we didn’t expect to follow. Stories are fragile and ephemeral things […]. Still, we need [them] to make sense of this world and to judge how best to live with its challenges and possibilities. - Anand Pandian (9-10) viii Introduction: “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose”1 Childhood and storying are closely linked, and both often elicit a sense of infinite possible, whether accurate or not. For most people, one of the fondest memories of their youth will be the adventures lived in books and the special connection felt towards that one character. There is an intensity to childhood that leads to narratives being devoured, at the same time ephemeral – like a child jumping from one experience to the next – and everlasting – leaving us with a taste that will carry through adulthood, memories of simultaneously feeling alone in the world and oddly connected to humanity while reading. I, for one, can still remember long summer hours spent sailing the Mississippi on my makeshift pillow raft, channeling an inner Huck Finn and sustaining myself on apples and books à la Jo March. “Often read to pieces, those books [of childhood] took us on voyages of discovery, leading us into secret new worlds that magnify childhood desires and anxieties and address the great existential mysteries,” writes Maria Tatar in her preface to the Annotated Fairy Tales. (xi) But this is not the story of good times past. If childhood and children’s literature are held dear by grown-ups, what do we know of the impact of the genre on those that are primarily concerned, these odd creatures we call children? Aside from the pleasure they may induce, are stories even necessary to their growth? 1 Dr. Seuss. Oh, The Places You’ll Go! New York: Random House, 1990. Print. 2 1 The universe of childhood is everywhere: from bookshops to libraries, television, cinema, toy stores, arcades and amusements parks, etc. Childhood is not only a concept but also a flourishing market that fascinates and holds the young as well as the not so young anymore. Who does not occasionally indulge in a “retour en enfance” (return to childhood), as the popular French saying goes? And so one reads in Roland Barthes: “From the past, it is my childhood, which fascinates me most; these images alone, upon inspection, fail to make me regret the time which has vanished. For it is not the irreversible I discover in my childhood, it is the irreducible.” (22)2 And in today’s society, everything is done to make this exploratory journey back somewhat possible. France counts about 200 amusement parks, 800 toy stores and a near thousand specialized bookstores. The UK has similar numbers and the US 4 to 5 times that. But the truth is, if today’s society knows and sometimes even encourages a type of regression towards a child-like state (not to say childish, at times), the state of being a child is a very modern notion. The condition of being a child, and not merely a small, unfinished adult, is an idea that emerged around the second half of the 18th century in Europe. Contemporary philosophers in England, France and Germany started to find interest in childhood through the realization of the impact theirs had left on them. This is how Jean-Jacques Rousseau, for example, felt the need to write his Confessions where he nostalgically evoked memories from his childhood while detaching himself from his younger self’s 2 Barthes, Roland. Roland Barthes par Roland Barthes. Translated by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1977 (1975). Print. 2 ways of reasoning. Such writings were part of how childhood came to be contemplated as a stage separate from adulthood. It was acknowledged as being a vulnerable time, a fragile step in life development that needed to be protected at all cost, as well as propelled in the right direction. The article “Enfance,” written by d’Aumont in the Encyclopedia, explained childhood as being a state lasting until one reaches the age of reason, around seven years old: “ENFANCE, s. f. (Médecine.) C'est la première partie de la vie humaine, selon la division que l'on en fait en différents âges […]; ainsi on appelle enfance l'espace de temps qui s'écoule depuis la naissance jusqu'à ce que l'homme soit parvenu à avoir l'usage de la raison, c'est-à-dire à l'âge de sept à huit ans.” 3 Other contemporary writings contemplated childhood as being continuous until about seventeen years old, or younger if the “child” was to be married before that – a belief that would be kept in the 19th century. The notion of the child then was new and in constant redefinition. It was nothing like a modern reader would expect. And when it came to literature for children, the reactions were quite ambivalent. Indeed, contrary to the tender feelings children’s books and bedtime stories may awaken in today’s world, fiction was then considered rather dangerous to the young impressionable ear, and welcomed various approaches. In truth, there was actually very little to no fiction at all for children written in Europe at the time. Tales from the 17th century and before were still being read or recited to children. Yet, the new angles brought about by Rousseau and Locke regarding education made these highly moral tales less substantial. Not to mention the fact that these very tales were starting to be perceived as threatening rather than educational. 3 “Childhood: it is the first part of human life, according to the division that we make of it in different ages […]; so we call childhood the space of time that runs from birth until the man reaches the age of reason, that is around 7 or 8 years old.” 3 Modern readers have axiomatically integrated the idea that the most important factor in children’s literature is the development of characters, allowing a process of identification in children that will help them grow and discover themselves. Yet, most stories for the young existing in the 18th century were fables and fairy tales, which mostly had flat characters. The emphasis was laid on one trait, serving the particular moral of the story.