Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally was a very dry read. It was drier than the cheapest plonk at the pub during happy hour. Now before anyone starts collecting rocks to stone me, I would challenge them to read the book too and then comment.
I am not denying that the material in the book is powerful. I definitely acknowledge that the book is filled with names, places and intense facts. But it is not prose. Upon thinking this further, I recollect the subject of the book and wonder if there is a reason for that. If the author, in this case Thomas Keneally was aiming for an emotive piece, it would be a character lie. By all accounts, Oskar Schindler was a hard drinking and reckless businessman who cheated on his wife with regularity (Hurvitz & Karesh, 2016). He destroyed his family business, sought to cheat, lie and swindle his way back into a life of comfort. Quite frankly, by all tokens, this man was an immoral and wasteful character. Then Schindler went on to save almost 1300 Jews from the concentration camps during those dark days in Eastern Europe. This man, who by the standards of his time, and now; unworthy of attention; put his own life at risk to save others. His actions have been immortalised in a book, a major Spielberg movie production and the term Schindlerjuden or Schindler’s Jews, which is still used to refer to the descendents of those that were saved.
So when you consider all these facts, the dryness of Keneally’s “Schindler’s Ark” makes sense. It would be a lie if the book was anything other than prosaic. Instead, its matter of fact manner of describing the main character’s traits ensures that the reader does not view him with rose framed lenses. The reader is made fully aware of Oskar’s failings as a man and a husband. It is in viewing these failings that Schindler’s true heroism is seen. The plain language allows the reader to envision the fear hiding between the stalwart words. Conversely, the plain language also allows readers with little imagination to read the book without being overwhelmed.
“Schindler’s Ark” was a very dry read for someone who is a lover of prose. As an avid reader of fiction, I found this novel to be more informative than anything else. I also found it heartbreaking, just like the sadness I feel when the happy hour wine is just awful. But whilst this book was a struggle for me, it would be ideal for reluctant teens who struggle with engaging with fictitious stories. The language, style and format of the book resemble information books and thus may satisfy their need for ‘facts’. But whilst the Guardian review suggests this book as appropriate for 8-12 year old children, I would probably restrict it to students over 14-15 years old. This would then correlate well with the year 10 HASS’s World War 2 and Holocaust unit especially the ACDSEH025 elaboration. It would also work well in the Biographies and memoirs unit in Year 10 English.
Axelrod, A. (2013). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of World War II, vol. 2. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=265017.
Hurvitz, M. M., & Karesh, S. E. (2016). Schindler, Oskar. In Encyclopedia of Judaism, Second Edition. New York: Facts On File. Retrieved March 16, 2020, from online.infobase.com/Auth/Index?aid=19165&itemid=WE53&articleId=263928.
I fell in love for the first time with a boy named James Winthrop Frayne II. I was 11 years old and madly in love. He was 16 years old, tall and very smart, with red hair, green eyes and a slightly crooked smile.
Unfortunately for me, James or Jim, as I lovingly referred to him, was a character in my favourite book series “Trixie Belden”. In fact, my love for Jim Frayne was so embedded into my mind that I ended up marrying another lovely redhead (he says honey-blond) who also happened to have James in his name. And whilst I was falling in love with Jim Frayne…
I fell in love with reading books.
Now when I say I love books, I say this as an adult who reads on a daily basis.
I have never spent a day in my life as far as I can remember without reading or food. In fact reading and eating are interwoven rather closely in my life. I have eaten my way through many books and I have read my way through many meals. Even now as a mother of three, dinner table conversations are still second place to a book. So for me, books are a need, like food and water. I indulge that need with classics and new authors; old favourites and popular series. But series fiction holds a dear spot in my heart. As a child, series fiction gave me Jim and Trixie, Harry and Hermoine, Frank and Joe, Nancy and Bess, Laura Ingalls, Anne Shirley, Lucy, Pollyanna, Heidi, George and Timmy, Darryl and Sally. As an adult series fiction brought me Doc Scarpetta, Tempe Brennan, Ayla of no people, Falco, Jamie and Claire plus many others into my life. Whilst I have loved the classics and other stand alone titles, series fiction brought me the greatest joy.
{silence} {crickets} {crashing cups of tea and chairs} {my career as a future TL fading into the sunset}
Yes, as an adult who is also a fledgling teacher librarian, I am voicing out loud my deep and ardent affection for serial stories. Now, once everyone has picked themselves off the floor and righted their tea cups; I will explain my thoughts.
I acknowledge that series fiction, whether for adults or children, has often been regarded as literary rubbish. Often viewed as the ‘Mills & Boon’ of literature, series fiction is derided for its repetitive structure, predictive plot and lack of character development (Westfahl, 2018). Some would even argue that its presence on bookshelves is a betrayal of literary values (Westfahl, 2018). But these people are snobs! Books do not always have to be among the lexicons of literature. Books, especially fiction books, should be able to satisfy cognitive, emotional and the developmental needs of the reader and series fiction definitely addresses the emotional needs of both fledging and proficient readers.
But before I elaborate deeply on how series fiction changed my life; I would like to clarify a few technical issues. There are three main types of series fiction. Firstly, there is the progressive series; where a longer narrative is broken down into shorter novels and the sequence of titles is important to the reader and storyline (Wooldridge, 2015). Then there are the successive series, where the plot repeats itself continuously and lastly, the accidental variety where the author reluctantly writes prequels and sequels to comfort the crazies.
Rowling’s Harry Potter, Marsden’s Tomorrow when the war began, Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables and Wilder’s Little house books are some examples of progressive series. These book concatenations had a definite end which saw the characters grow and develop along with the reader. I was one of those readers that grew up with Ellie and Harry. I devoured John Marsden’s series in a matter of months. My poor high school teacher librarian was continuously pestered to get the rest of the series once I got hold of the first one. Poor man! Lucky for him, by the time I discovered Harry, I had a job and a library membership! I was 13 when the first HP book was released and as Harry grew up, so did I. Harry, Hermoine and Ron were more than just book characters, for me they were friends.
Successive series examples include the famous Diary of a wimpy kid, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden, Babysitters club, Animorphs, Famous Five, Secret Seven, and Bobbsey Twins. These series have a foreseeable story patterns with comforting characters and obvious plots (Wooldridge, 2015). Whilst these books may seem formulaic (they are!), it is their predictability that makes them popular. Series fiction offers children constancy and security in a world full of upheaval (Wooldridge, 2015). Children develop a sense of trust, an affection with the character and possibly even a relationship with the author (Wooldridge, 2015). So while they themselves grow up through the tumultuous years of puberty, series fiction with its predictability offers an escape, a playdate with an old friend.
I developed this type of relationship with Enid Blyton after being introduced to the Famous Five. The sheer joy received from reading that series led me to trust her writing style and with it I discovered Secret Seven, 5 find outers and it, Mallory Towers, Twins at St Claire’s, Wishing Chair, Enchanted Tree, Amelia Jane and so many more. For an awkward immigrant kid with poor social skills, these books allowed me to escape to places where magic and friendship abounded. My daughter is also a big Blyton fan. Every time she picks up a book authored by Blyton, I know that she will most likely gain the same level of emotional satisfaction that I did and so develop her love of reading. There is also a great deal of enjoyment to share with her the books of my childhood.
The last main type of series fiction is the accidental variety. These are books that the author only planned on one, and then somehow their popularity has meant sequels and prequels were soon requested by adoring fans. George M Martin’s Game of Thrones is such a series, spawning an TV run that lasted several years and ended before the last book has even been published. Diana Gabaldan’s Outlander series is currently stalled at the near publication of its 9th book and only time will tell if the tenth book will ever eventuate (especially since the first book was published almost 20 years ago!). Other accidental series include Baum’s Wizard of Oz, Norton’s The Borrowers and P. L. Traver’s Mary Poppins. Because these series were accidental and not planned, their storylines do not always make sense and can appear a bit jerky at times. Sometimes they abruptly end if the author or readers lose interest.
Series fiction has been around for a long time. As much as some literary snobs would hate to admit, there are some current classics that used to be serials. Dicken’s Pickwick Papers and another seven of his other titles as well as Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes started off as series but then were condensed into a novel several reprints later (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018). Even further back to the folklore stories such as mythical twelve tasks of Hercules; the thousand and one stories of Scherazade and adventures of the Round table are varieties of series fiction. So to all those literary snobs that believe series fiction are rubbish… well… pffft to you.
If you think about it from a practical viewpoint it makes sense if you have a recipe that works to use it! Edward Strathmeyer had such a recipe back in the boom days of series fiction. He planned outlines of books and then organised cheap ghost writers to write the stories, and oh boy… did it work! The whole Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys production is based upon this magical recipe (Westfahl, 2018). The recipe had some key ingredients. Characters are kept the same age; have the same small town holistic upbringing; go on amazing adventures, travel the world but always come home safely to a loving family. These books allowed children and teens (mainly aimed at Caucausian middle class Americans) an avenue of escape from their groundhog day lives. As these book characters all suffered from perennial Peter Pan syndrome, they have never lost their appeal even in its trillionth reprint nearly ninety years after the first copy (Finnian, 2013). I will mention here that whilst racial demographics and family structure has evolved significantly since the first Stratemeyer book was published in 1927, their popularity has not changed. The plot pattern remains the same but the settings and dilemmas have evolved with the times. Obviously the recipe still works!
So what is the benefit of series fiction? Besides emotional satisfaction, series fiction allows the reader to build their literacy skills. McGill-Franzen & Ward (2018) believes that the predictable plots assist in developing word recognition which in turn boosts vocabulary and reading confidence. The formulaic story pattern allows the reader to easily identify any explicit reading conventions present. This expanded vocabulary and confidence then allows the reader to successfully use their increased literacy skills in other areas.
Series fiction makes it simple for readers to identify titles they are willing to read because they identify with the author. Reluctant readers are more likely to pick a book they are familiar with by the same author; than a title by a new author. They are also more likely to try other titles by that author because of the relationship that was previously established. A great example is John Flanagan, author of the fabulous Ranger’s apprentice series. Teens who enjoy that series often move onto the Royal Ranger series as well as Brotherband because they trust the author. The same can be said for Rick Riordan and the plethora of books he has published.
The impact of series fiction is clear. Children and teens who read more books end up being more adults who read. Remember, committed adult readers were hooked onto reading as children by series fiction (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018). And whilst reading of insightful novels that provokes critical thinking complements a wide reading program, it cannot replace it. Pushing the classics onto children and teens before they are ready is unlikely to work. But offering them an opportunity to connect with an author or a series they can engage with may put them onto the pathway towards literature. After all, children do age out of one series and into another (McGill-Franzen & Ward, 2018). They grow from Blyton’s Magic Faraway tree to Rodda’s Rowan of Rin, to Rowling’s Harry Potter to Marsden’s Tomorrow when the war began to Davis’ Falco, Cornwall’s Scarpetta and Reichs’ Bones and Hume’s Arthur and Merlin series and eventually they reach the classics. Why do I know that? Cos I did just that.
I fell in love with reading as a child. I have stayed in love with reading as an adult. Are you in love with reading? If so, when did it happen?
Woolridge, T. (2015). Series fiction and Sallly Rippin’s Billie B Brown series: The ‘Most important continuous reading children do on their own’. mETAphor, 3, 30-35. Retrieved from https://www.englishteacher.com.au/
They capture your imagination with words and imagery.
Similar to a siren singing her tune, an author draws the reader in with stories of heroes, villains, mysteries and magic. There are several writers that come to mind when one thinks about perspicacity at understanding a developing mind. Enid Blyton comes to my thoughts immediately, as it was her books of Faraway trees, Wishing Chairs, Mallory Towers and the adventurous children that beguiled and transformed me into a certifiable bookworm. Other authors with these same mystical powers include Emily Rodda, A A Milne, Dr Seuss, C. S Lewis, Beatrix Potter, E.B White, Lewis Carrol, Eric Carle, Rick Riordan, J K Rowling and of course, Roald Dahl.
Dahl’s popularity has enthralled generations of children with his fantastical tales. Even 30 years after the publication of perspicacious Matilda, the lure is still strong according to Kelly (2019) who recently published an article in the Sunday Times just short of the author’s birthdate. Dahl’s books have inspired generations of children to read. His stories of redemption and resilience appeal to both children and adults. I found it particularly interesting that the books often seem to be narrated by the child protagonist. By doing so, Dahl places the reader in the central position and thus immediately engages their interest. The books often place the child in the role of an underdog and their eventual vanquishment of the bigger and older (usually an adult) enemy gives great satisfaction. Darby (2016) believes that this narrative style is appealing to children as it makes them feel like “someone is in their court”.
Some people assert that Dahl’s books are macabre and filled with violence, racial slurs, misogyny and vindictive behaviour. Anderson (2016) argues that the books caused great disturbance among adult readers when they first started being published in the late 60’s. Stories where witches turn children into mice, people are fed worms and or eaten by giants, and let us not forget principals that swing cute girls by their hair like a discus and push children into nail studded cupboards.
In fact, “James and the Giant Peach has been lambasted for its racism, profanity and sexual innuendo” Anderson (2016) states.
It appears Dahl was provoking everyone, as he offended numerous demographics in equal measure. But I am starting to believe that the provocation is what lured children to read and re-read his books. It was just that little bit naughty and disgusting. Just enough to make children feel superior and more wise than the character, but not too much as to disengage the reader. Arguably this is probably what explains Dahl’s longevity as an author. Nice clean stories such as Wilder’s Little House series has its staunch clientele but it does lacks the Dahl’s drawcard in that the majority of children do not identify with these characters. Kole (2018) suggests that it is when the reader can draw upon their own experience with the subject matter that engagement with the text occurs. This could be contended similar for L M Montgomery’s Anne or White’s Charlotte’s Web. All extremely well written and received books, but not as far reaching as Dahl. Whilst their stories do have points of personal travail, they simply are not dark enough.
This need for darkness is important for children’s literature
as Anderson (2016) and Kole (2018) further elucidate. One can only think of the popularity of the Grimm fairy tales, Rowling’s Harry Potter, Collins ’Hunger Games and Meyer’s Twilight to realise that the desire for grim has not changed in centuries. The adage about literature reflecting life is the underlying support for this need for fear and fright in children’s books. Stories of children overcoming great difficulty has the ability to build great resilience and empathy in the reader.
We are all aware of how reading builds empathy. Readers identify with the characters in the story and thus the feelings from one are juxtaposition-ed on the other . But reading fictitious stories of giants, witches and wizards, whilst unrealistic, also gives children an important cathartic release according to Bettelheim (2010). Rochelle (1977) whilst dated, firmly believes that adults and children both require fantastical literature to interweave the complex strains of good and evil in humanity. Fantastical tales give children innate strength to overcome hurdles life throws at them, no matter how bizarre it is (Kole, 2018). Children are aware that these stories are unreal in the fantastical sense but the situation that the characters are facing are very real indeed (Rochelle, 1977). Wakefield (2014) agrees and points out that fairy tales are there to protect rather than terrify, as the protagonist is forced to seek inner strength to overcome the villain. The stories illustrate that these situations can be overcome, and in that, give hope and possibly a way out.
Fantastical tales are more than just entertainment. In their own way, they give children (and adults) the ability to fight demons in both the real world and in their dreams. After all, the lives of children are not always filled with rainbows and unicorns. Many children live in shadows. Reading stories such as Dahl’s encourage children (and adults) to go past their grim quagmire and find their inner strength.
So this Roald Dahl day on September 13, read a fantastical story… and at the same time, gain some humanity.
Rochelle, L. (1977). The search for meaning through fantasy. The English Journal. Vol. 66, No. 7, pp 54-55. Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org/stable/814365
Wakefield, M. (2014). Why scary fairy stories are the best. The Spectator.
I’ve always taken my kids to the library. My eldest first visited when she was six days old. I was a new nursing mum and desperate for reading materials to keep me entertained through those numerous breastfeeds. Throughout her infancy we visited different libraries on rotation. Some had great books. Others had great coffee nearby. Some had social groups that I was interested in. Either way the local library was where I felt relaxed and welcome.
Fast forward to mothering toddlers and then preschoolers, the library was where we did ‘Rhyme time’, ‘toddler time’, and ‘storytime’. Each session was eagerly awaited by mother and enjoyed whoheartedly by child and then, children.
Now as a mum of three, my library visits are less regulated mainly cos life is busy. But I do believe that my children are thriving, because of their lifetime access to books.
Local libraries are more than just a warehouse of books. They are an escape from the mundane, a breath of fresh air, and most importantly, a welcoming space.
So I dare you. Go to a local library. Take the kids and watch the magic happen.
Reading is a vital skill for learning at school and success in later life. There is multitudes of research to show that an early exposure to books has a direct correlation to literacy success. This success during formative schooling years often translates to ameliorated schooling outcomes in primary and high school, increased self esteem and overall positive well being. Unfortunately, substandard literacy skills often convert to poor education outcomes, decreased earnings and lower health outcomes. Thus it seems fairly obvious that literacy needs to be the forefront of the education system to ensure that our young citizens have the best chance at a successful and happy future.
But the statistics are dreadful. ABS (2013) reports that over 40% of Australian adults lack sufficient literacy skills to cope with daily life. This is astounding! For a first world nation this is unacceptable. How does this even happen in Australia?
Softlink (2011) research indicates that literacy levels are proportional to the presence of a school library and a qualified teacher librarian. This is further corroborated by UNESCO (2016), that libraries are the keystone in which literacy is built and promoted upon. By this token, it seems plausible that all educational facilities have a library and librarian.
Australian correctional centres have embraced this life long learning challenges by mandating that all prisons, jails, correctional facilities and detention centres have a library on site (ALIA, 2015). These libraries serve three main causes, to provide information for personal development; to improve educational outcomes and for recreational purposes (ALIA, 2015). Bevan (1984) takes the point further to ensure that detainees are encouraged to read and to have access to the library.
What a marvelous thing this is? I wish our children had the same access.
Yes, it is true. All inmates of correctional centres have the right to access a library which is run by a qualified librarian. Yet in Tasmania less than 50% of schools have a teacher librarian. Victoria has seen the numbers of qualified teacher librarians drop significantly over the past decade (Better Beginnings, n.d.). Well meaning but unqualified teachers and or assistants are resourcing the library and implementing literacy goals for our students, and it is not working out.
Once again, society bemoans the inadequacies of our children in their reading and writing without actually thinking as to the cause of it. Blame is flung eagerly at social media, inattentive parents, flying pigs and the like. But the real reason why our children’s literacy levels are deteriorating is because the information expert is absent from the school context.
The 2011 House of Representatives inquiry into schools and their libraries detailed the importance that teacher librarians bring to schools and their community. UNESCO (2016) Institute for Lifelong Learning published a policy dictating how libraries support lifelong literacy. Even the Bevan (1984) Institute of Criminology has mandated that prisoners get access to a library and books in order to improve well being and increase their chance of re-entering society.
Why can’t we give our children the same chance as we give the incarcerated?
Peschers, G (2011) Books Open Worlds for People Behind Bars: Library Services in Prison as Exemplified by the Münster Prison Library, Germany’s “Library of the Year 2007”. Library Trends 59:3 pp520-543
Learning through the Library 