Watching the end of the BBC TV series Robin Hood has led me to wonder about how death is approached in literature for children, and thereby in education. This is also at a time when there have been high profile celebrity deaths that created a degree of public emotionalism. In Robin Hood, Robin is wounded by a poisoned dagger which allows him a protracted and reflective death. As he eventually dies, his dead wife Marion comes to fetch him and leads him by the hand into "an even greater adventure". As they walk off screen, his body slumps. His death loses gravity. The act of murder has released him into a better world, reunited him with his heart's desire. His death is implicitly condoned.
What do children think of death, and what do we tell them when a loved one dies? Today's gun and knife culture may encourage some children to kill: could their mental model of death encourage them to depict death as a good thing, and remove a sense of guilt?
Death is becoming a common theme in writing for children. Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials is littered with child and adult deaths, and includes a visit to Hades, whose bounds were broken allowing the shades freedom in a celestial melting pot or nirvana. Part of his purpose was to remove the fear of hell and project a picture of a blissfully happy afterlife modeled on Friends Reunited.
Garth Nix has made a career writing about death in curious ways. His Abhorsen fantasy trilogy is about necromancy, the dead returning, people entering death and sometimes escaping from it. Death is greatly to be feared, and mixed up with magic and destruction. His Keys of the Kingdom cycle have a young asthmatic boy, Arthur on the point of death during a cross-country run, being taken into a fantasy house where he in declared heir and wins the keys of power which will enable him to gain control of time by removing the upstart despots who rule each day. The house is like an afterlife, in which the basic function is archiving people's lives and actions. So a companion, Turquoise Blue (from the colour of the ink) had died of black death in the middle ages. The last volume, Lord Sunday, does not appear until the new year, so we must wait to see how it all resolves, and whether the seven books have only been a dream.
Michelle Paver's six volume Chronicles of Ancient Darkness (starting with Wolf Boy, 2003) charts the life of two young people, Torak and Renn. The setting is the stone age north, where totem tribes were hunter gatherers. This was the pre-scientific world of magic, shamans ('Mages'), spirits and demons. The voice-over narrator assumes these beliefs. Torak is the world's redeemer, with special powers, but is otherwise just a vulnerable lad. Renn also has special powers, and superb personal qualities, which she uses to support, protect and manage Torak. Wolf, a real wolf, is pack brother to both of them. The world is, Tolkein style, threatened by a magic stone than needs destroying, against the greed for power of rogue Mages, the Soul Eaters. This is a world where people live by hunting, showing respect for the lives they are taking and other flora and fauna. In death, the three souls leave the body, and provided the right rituals take place, keep together. They can however be harnessed for evil means, such as made to possess animals or children. The death of anything, even for food, and even plants, is not taken lightly. However, when declared an outcast, anyone who encountered him was supposed to kill him, and killing people or animals who threaten clan security is sanctioned - usually these are declared possessed of evil. Torak, Renn and all other young people carry weapons routinely for their own safety, usually made safe by clan custom. For child readers, there are questions about the nature of the soul or souls (the eternal spiritual entity that resides within our body, and about how we should view life and death in daily life.
There are two views of death currently at odds - that our inner self will survive death and move to some other sphere, disembodied; and that our inner self is simply the accumulations of feeling and knowledge which, on death, is simply switched off and ends. Logically, what holds for a human should also hold for a dog, cow or slug, and a slug heaven is rather difficult to imagine. Religions have promoted belief in an afterlife, emphasizing the need for reward or punishment. Hinduism is more open, recognising the mystery and relegating reward and punishment to our future embodied lives. Today, the autonomous self is promoted, with self esteem, self respect and an expectation for self empowerment. That this self has an eternal future is viewed as self evident. Modern spiritualities have replaced the efforts of traditional religions, although they borrow angels, demons and other conceptual paraphernalia.
This leaves us a quite serious question, what do we teach our children about death? Given the popular media and the stories they read, they cannot be very clear.
Showing posts with label children's literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children's literature. Show all posts
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Monday, 6 July 2009
Michelle Magorian, Just Henry.
Michelle Magorian became famous for the wartime evacuee story Goodnight Mister Tom. Here in Just Henry (2008) she sets her story around 1950. It is just at the ending of ration coupons. Austerity appears everywhere - bomb sites still flattened, the family relics of war apparent, with missing fathers, dead fathers, desperate mothers. This is an 'all live happily ever after' story but the detail makes it interesting. I am not retelling the story here, it is for you to read; rather I pick out some issues to contemplate. There is an anti-discrimination theme, with treatment of an illegitimate boy and the son of an alleged deserter dominating the first third of this 700 page book. Henry has his mind poisoned by his Gran (mother of Henry's dead war hero father) who declared herself a dependent invalid at the age of 53, not only adding to Henry's mother's burden, but physically hitting her and Mollie her infant. It is painfully gradually that Henry sees her for what she really is. The heroes of the tale are the new teacher Mr Finch, and the 60 year old writer Mrs Beaumont, who teach the children actively to resist prejudice and develop a can-do attitude to life and relationships. Both adults are rebels, non-compliant, creative, putting good relationships ahead of all else. A historical job of the story lies in the detail on 1950s films and cinema, presented as a source of entertainment visited several times each week.
The children are from the first ROSLA cohort, when school leaving age was raised from 14 to 15. They are in a secondary modern school, although Henry deliberately failed the 11 plus to please his Gran. Grace is dyslexic and has been expelled from 13 schools for idleness and insubordination, Pip is illegitimate, Jefferies whose father is accused of desertion. These become an unlikely group of friends. Secondary modern kids are presented as talented artistically and vocationally. Things work for these children because of cooperation - their careers were what they wished, but only good will made it possible. It is not a meritocracy - jobs went to people who had friends and relations in the business - railway, films, drama and singing, music. The cooperation of this special group of children and adults beat off the horrendous conservatism of society generally, represented by Gran who is actively malicious, the school headteacher who is prejudiced, Grace's absentee parents who think success comes through punishment. The only part of the plot I shall give away is the irony of bigoted Gran's discomfort to find her own son to be a deserter and her favorite grandson to be illegitimate.
Similar but different issues about negative views of people leading to prejudice are apparent in each generation. We have to have eyes open for the next threat - whether asylum seekers, Muslims, economic migrants from Eastern Europe, travellers or whatever. Empowering all should be a key to policy, strategy and pedagogy.
The children are from the first ROSLA cohort, when school leaving age was raised from 14 to 15. They are in a secondary modern school, although Henry deliberately failed the 11 plus to please his Gran. Grace is dyslexic and has been expelled from 13 schools for idleness and insubordination, Pip is illegitimate, Jefferies whose father is accused of desertion. These become an unlikely group of friends. Secondary modern kids are presented as talented artistically and vocationally. Things work for these children because of cooperation - their careers were what they wished, but only good will made it possible. It is not a meritocracy - jobs went to people who had friends and relations in the business - railway, films, drama and singing, music. The cooperation of this special group of children and adults beat off the horrendous conservatism of society generally, represented by Gran who is actively malicious, the school headteacher who is prejudiced, Grace's absentee parents who think success comes through punishment. The only part of the plot I shall give away is the irony of bigoted Gran's discomfort to find her own son to be a deserter and her favorite grandson to be illegitimate.
Similar but different issues about negative views of people leading to prejudice are apparent in each generation. We have to have eyes open for the next threat - whether asylum seekers, Muslims, economic migrants from Eastern Europe, travellers or whatever. Empowering all should be a key to policy, strategy and pedagogy.
Monday, 22 September 2008
The Ragwitch 2 - moral development.
A story with a portal to another world borrows directly from C S Lewis's Narnia books. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe even has the evil witch/queen. Written in the 1940s and published in 1951, that story starts with the blitz and evacuation. The witch/queen's destructive domain represents the Nazi preference for power over ethics and her defeat by children is a moral call to arms. C S Lewis in turn borrowed the idea from George Macdonald, whose forays through the portal are highly symbolic - Phantastes, and Lilith towards the end of the 19th century. Macdonald took this idea from German developmental novels. I take it therefore that adventures in parallel worlds represent inner struggles from which personal growth develops. Most deal with struggles between good and evil, wisdom and folly, and loyalty and betrayal.
In The Ragwitch, evil is a reality which can overcome decent people through fear and powerful magic. It exists 'out there' and should be left severely alone if disaster is not to occur. Once awakened, it cannot easily be put back to quiescence. In real life, rage and hate erupt from time to time but are human choices rather than demonic possession. The genocides of the past century have been deliberate political strategies by powerful groups, exerting power through a mixture of fear and persuasion. Humans are apt to lose moral constraints very easily, particularly if the 'other' can be dehumanised as 'the enemy' or 'another race'. Evil is a human direction or set of choices in which selfishness and greed are promoted rather than the common good.
Stories such as the Ragwitch emphasise loyalty to decent people, compassion and the importance of heroic resistance. These are important lessons for children (and adults) to learn.
In The Ragwitch, evil is a reality which can overcome decent people through fear and powerful magic. It exists 'out there' and should be left severely alone if disaster is not to occur. Once awakened, it cannot easily be put back to quiescence. In real life, rage and hate erupt from time to time but are human choices rather than demonic possession. The genocides of the past century have been deliberate political strategies by powerful groups, exerting power through a mixture of fear and persuasion. Humans are apt to lose moral constraints very easily, particularly if the 'other' can be dehumanised as 'the enemy' or 'another race'. Evil is a human direction or set of choices in which selfishness and greed are promoted rather than the common good.
Stories such as the Ragwitch emphasise loyalty to decent people, compassion and the importance of heroic resistance. These are important lessons for children (and adults) to learn.
Sunday, 21 September 2008
Garth Nix. The Ragwitch. 1990
Julia picks up a rag doll in rubbish, is taken over by the evil spirit within it, who uses her body to regenerate herself as The Ragwitch, the former banished evil queen. She goes back into her own world, Julia is imprisoned in her mind, to be tormented before becoming totally absorbed. Her brother Paul sees this, follows them through the portal, and starts an adventure trying to rescue Julia. He has Narnia like adventures in this parallel world, whilst Julia inhabits a different world inside the Ragwitch exploring her memories and evil designs as she sets about destroying her world which had previously defeated and banished her into the rag doll.
Inside the Ragwitch is Anhyvar the girl she used to be, a girl who communed with evil forces to better her world. She is imprisoned in an ice restrainer, as evil took her over. Julia finds Anhyvar with Mirran her former lover, also imprisoned in the Ragwitch mind. This little group, with Lyssa, the spirit of the rowan tree, are heroes, heroic resisters of evil forces who attach the Ragwitch from within.
Paul is the hero in the outside world. He is instructed to draw strength from nature, the elemental forces earth, air, fire and water and goes on a quest to meet the personifications of these. He receives from them a token which can help him draw on their powers. At key moments he wins wisdom by planting caggages and picking potatoes. The Ragwitch knows that these elemental forces are her biggest enenmy and pursues Paul relentlessly.
The story is one in which evil is a power which can be destroyed. Julia avoids being overcome by it by holding positive images in her head, of happy moments. The Ragwitch holds her power by bullying, usually making threats she is able to carry out. Her power is maintained by the creatures who through fear support her, and those who are brainwashed to go along with her wishes. These are described as The Glazed.
As an allegory of life, evil is shown as a pervasive temptation that once given into can take over one’s life. However, inside every one is a core of goodness, a paralysed Anhyvar, which can be reactivated to overcome evil with good. We need to recognize evil as actions which harm or destroy others, and become heroic resisters, openly challenging these actions despite the threats against us.
Inside the Ragwitch is Anhyvar the girl she used to be, a girl who communed with evil forces to better her world. She is imprisoned in an ice restrainer, as evil took her over. Julia finds Anhyvar with Mirran her former lover, also imprisoned in the Ragwitch mind. This little group, with Lyssa, the spirit of the rowan tree, are heroes, heroic resisters of evil forces who attach the Ragwitch from within.
Paul is the hero in the outside world. He is instructed to draw strength from nature, the elemental forces earth, air, fire and water and goes on a quest to meet the personifications of these. He receives from them a token which can help him draw on their powers. At key moments he wins wisdom by planting caggages and picking potatoes. The Ragwitch knows that these elemental forces are her biggest enenmy and pursues Paul relentlessly.
The story is one in which evil is a power which can be destroyed. Julia avoids being overcome by it by holding positive images in her head, of happy moments. The Ragwitch holds her power by bullying, usually making threats she is able to carry out. Her power is maintained by the creatures who through fear support her, and those who are brainwashed to go along with her wishes. These are described as The Glazed.
As an allegory of life, evil is shown as a pervasive temptation that once given into can take over one’s life. However, inside every one is a core of goodness, a paralysed Anhyvar, which can be reactivated to overcome evil with good. We need to recognize evil as actions which harm or destroy others, and become heroic resisters, openly challenging these actions despite the threats against us.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
Us and them: Identity, nationhood and religion
Humans have evolved through pre-history to recognize friends from foes. The knowledge was a potential lifesaver. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time may have resulted in life lost. Friends were ‘us’, enemies were ‘them’. Individuals made marriage choices from ‘us’ and not ‘them’, unless they wanted to end up like Romeo and Juliet. ‘Them’ have no right to life, but can be killed without consequence, indeed with adulation. So, aboriginees, native Tasmanians, first Americans tribes and African bushmen could be wiped out without an uproar.
Have we learnt? World War 2 had a degree of them and us about it, which has been maintained in the infinite appetite for war films and books. Children’s stories have raised interesting angles. Elinor Brent Dyer, writing during the war, distinguished between good Germans and Nazis, and taught her pupils at the Chalet School the principles of working towards peace. Others were content to bathe in German gore. Michael Morpurgo asks ‘Friend or Foe?’ when children find a downed German bomber crew, one injured and the other who saved his life. Where should loyalties lie in such circumstances? After the war, it was assumed that the German and Japanese had a psychological disease from which they could be cured by education (I owe this insight to Wendy Toon). This was to turn ‘them’ into ‘us’ again.
Beyond all that local politicals, ‘us’ and ‘them’ have for long been decided by skin colour. The Victorians filled black and brown skulls with peas to try to provide that white skulls had greater capacity. They failed, so they invented the intelligence test, white biased of course. Racism influenced empire, marriage choices, educational opportunity and for many years even human rights itself. Declaring a race ‘sub-human’ had particular consequences in German Namibia and later Hitler’s Reich, where racial extermination became official national policy.
The half-century after world war 2 has seen a steady process of turning ‘them’ into ‘us’, with, we have to admit, not a little backlash. Probably, and hopefully, two hundred years from now, the entire world population will be various shades of brown and we will wonder what all the fuss was about. That is one thing at least that Star Trek was wrong about. Personally, I thought I was half Irish, half English, but found only recently that I am Anglo Scottish. Friends are British Muslim, British-Indians, British Pakistanis. Nationhood is essentially redundant, despite everything certain fringe political parties tell us. We are humans and world citizens. Full stop.
©Stephen Bigger 2008
Have we learnt? World War 2 had a degree of them and us about it, which has been maintained in the infinite appetite for war films and books. Children’s stories have raised interesting angles. Elinor Brent Dyer, writing during the war, distinguished between good Germans and Nazis, and taught her pupils at the Chalet School the principles of working towards peace. Others were content to bathe in German gore. Michael Morpurgo asks ‘Friend or Foe?’ when children find a downed German bomber crew, one injured and the other who saved his life. Where should loyalties lie in such circumstances? After the war, it was assumed that the German and Japanese had a psychological disease from which they could be cured by education (I owe this insight to Wendy Toon). This was to turn ‘them’ into ‘us’ again.
Beyond all that local politicals, ‘us’ and ‘them’ have for long been decided by skin colour. The Victorians filled black and brown skulls with peas to try to provide that white skulls had greater capacity. They failed, so they invented the intelligence test, white biased of course. Racism influenced empire, marriage choices, educational opportunity and for many years even human rights itself. Declaring a race ‘sub-human’ had particular consequences in German Namibia and later Hitler’s Reich, where racial extermination became official national policy.
The half-century after world war 2 has seen a steady process of turning ‘them’ into ‘us’, with, we have to admit, not a little backlash. Probably, and hopefully, two hundred years from now, the entire world population will be various shades of brown and we will wonder what all the fuss was about. That is one thing at least that Star Trek was wrong about. Personally, I thought I was half Irish, half English, but found only recently that I am Anglo Scottish. Friends are British Muslim, British-Indians, British Pakistanis. Nationhood is essentially redundant, despite everything certain fringe political parties tell us. We are humans and world citizens. Full stop.
©Stephen Bigger 2008
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