Children’s Literature

From The New Yorker’s archive: a selection of pieces that offer insight into a vibrant and remarkable genre. View in browser | Update your preferences Children’s Literature In 2008, Jill Lepore published “The Lion and the Mouse,” a captivating essay about a mid-century controversy that helped reshape children’s literature. Lepore describes how the publication of E. B. White’s classic tale “Stuart Little,” about an adventurous “mouse-child” born to a family in Manhattan, created a stir among critics and librarians because of its unconventional (for the period) melding of fantasy and reality. White’s book provoked questions about which adults should decide what is suitable for children (parents? librarians? editors?), or whether that responsibility best lies with children themselves. One way to read “Stuart Little,” Lepore observes, is “as an indictment of both the childishness of children’s literature and the juvenilization of American culture.” This week, we’re bringing you a selection of pieces about the vibrant world of children’s literature—which, at its best, has always defied the conventions of the genre and the expectations of young readers and their parents. In “Among the Wild Things,” published in 1966, Nat Hentoff explores the radically innovative literary style of the author and illustrator Maurice Sendak. (“The young in Sendak’s books—particularly the books he writes himself—are sometimes troubled and lonely, they slip easily into and out of fantasies, and occasionally they are unruly and stubborn.”) In “The Storyteller,” Cynthia Zarin considers Madeleine L’Engle’s creative vision and examines the lasting influence of her popular novel “A Wrinkle in Time” and its sequels. In “Far from Well,” published in 1928, Dorothy Parker reviews A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh series and offers a biting critique of “The House at Pooh Corner.” In “Beatrix Potter,” the novelist Laurie Colwin writes about the natural style of the author of the classic “Peter Rabbit” series. (“The book began as a letter to a little boy named Noel Moore, who was recuperating from an illness. ‘My dear Noel,’ the letter begins. ‘I don’t know what to write to you, so I shall tell you a story about four little rabbits whose names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter.’ ”) In “Judy Blume’s Magnificent Girls,” Anna Holmes describes how Blume revolutionized young-adult fiction by vividly rendering the interior lives of her female protagonists. Finally, in “How Gyo Fujikawa Drew Freedom in Children’s Books,” Sarah Larson recounts how the Japanese-American artist, whose parents and brother were sent to internment camps in 1942, became one of the country’s most beloved children’s illustrators. (“Fujikawa’s illustrations depicted children of all kinds, on adventures of all kinds.”) Taken together, these pieces offer singular insights into a remarkable genre; we hope that they add a bit of magic to your weekend. —Erin Overbey, archive editor From The New Yorker’s Archive Profiles Among the Wild Things Maurice Sendak’s fantastic imagination. By Nat Hentoff | January 22, 1966 Profiles The Storyteller Fact, fiction, and the books of Madeleine L’Engle. By Cynthia Zarin | April 12, 2004 Reading and Writing Far from Well Our recurrent hero, Winnie-the-Pooh. By Dorothy Parker | October 20, 1928 Page-Turner Judy Blume’s Magnificent Girls How the celebrated children’s-book author revolutionized young-adult fiction. By Anna Holmes | March 22, 2012 Newsletters Sign Up for The New Yorker’s Daily Humor Newsletter Cartoons and more funny stuff in your in-box. Lives and Letters The Lion and the Mouse The battle that reshaped children’s literature. By Jill Lepore | July 21, 2008 Page-Turner How Gyo Fujikawa Drew Freedom in Children’s Books The artist, whose career flourished even as her family was interned during the Second World War, stayed in tune with a child’s way of seeing the world and found a way to draw a better one. By Sarah Larson | June 21, 2019 The Talk of the Town Beatrix Potter The “Peter Rabbit” author never wrote down to her young readers and never whitewashed nature on their behalf. By Laurie Colwin | June 6, 1988 You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up. Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our Privacy Policy Copyright © Condé Nast 2021. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.