Why Boys Don’t Read (Enough)
Why Boys Don’t Read (Enough)
OK, true story.
Back in 2003, I graduated as a librarian and set out on what I hoped would be a climb to the top of the field. (Spoiler alert – it wasn’t.) As I waited for my final exam results, I set out on a series of job interviews at various schools and universities around Greater Manchester, one of which remained stuck in my mind. The interviewers asked what I’d do to encourage kids to read. And my answer was that I would offer books that were popular at the time – the example I used was Harry Potter – so kids would read books they like and thus develop the reading muscles they need to move on to other, more advanced, books. I even suggested that the kids should be allowed to nominate library books for purchase, on the grounds they were the ones the kids actually liked.
This answer did not go down too well with them. They seemed to think I should choose books based on their literary merit. They found the idea of selecting books based on the likes and dislikes of a handful of kids to be wrong-headed, perhaps even counter-productive. As you have probably guessed, I didn’t get the job.
But I still stand by my answer. If you want kids to read, or do anything really, you have to present them with books that actually encourage them to read.
A few weeks back, a friend of mind pointed me to an article entitled ‘Boys Don’t Read Enough.’ The general gist of the article is that girls do better at reading than boys and it tries to offer a handful of explanations, but none of them are particularly convincing. They tend, I think, to avoid the fundamental problem. Adults are not children and therefore adults have a skewed idea of what children actually read. Nor do they understand that children, even the cleverest of children, have a very limited mindset.
You can argue, for example, that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory defended slavery. An adult might argue that the Oompa-Loompas are effectively slaves, and (at least originally) racist stereotypes. A child wouldn’t know or care about the underlying issues – his mind would, hopefully, be swept into a world of wonder and mystery that combines chocolate with the sense that bad people get what they deserve. (He wouldn’t care about the fridge horror in the fates of the four bratty kids either.) Or you could argue that Dumbledore is a very dodgy character indeed in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (he left a one-year-old on a doorstep, for crying out loud) and the Dursleys are, at best, neglectful and, at worst, outright abusive. Again, a child wouldn’t care about such details. The whole story is more about a young boy who steps into a whole new world.
One can also argue, if one wishes, that these books have little literary merit. But that doesn’t matter. The point is that the books appeal to kids.
But, throughout my schooling, I was frequently forced to read books that bored me, irritated me or generally frustrated me. Bill’s New Frock was supposed, I believe, to teach us boys how different life was for girls. I found it boring and silly. Stone Cold was depressing as hell, as was Brother in the Land. Oliver Twist (the condensed version) was interesting, but it was hard to draw a line between myself and Oliver. The further the gap between me and the characters, the harder it was to feel for them. Z for Zachariah started well, but grew harder to follow as the story progressed. I’m not sure why I felt that way, at the time. I do wonder, in hindsight, if it had something to do with the main character growing more and more feminine before things went to hell. As an adult, I don’t blame her for crushing on the newcomer and considering marriage; as a child, it was just tedious.
In some ways, I think that is an issue. My mother had an old Girl Guide Annual I used to read. The stories I liked best were the ones the heroine could be swapped out for a hero without severely altering the plot. It’s easy to say that stories about people who are different promote empathy, and perhaps they do, but it’s also easy to turn those stories into moralistic bore-fests. It doesn’t help, I think, when people feel forced to read them.
I think, judging by my experience, that young boys want exciting stories of action and adventure, not tedious lectures or inappropriate morality. It is easy to blame Enid Blyton for not living up to modern-day standards on everything from race to gender roles, but Blyton died in 1968! Her books are often simplistic and, looking back at them, it is clear there were aspects that could have been reasonably criticized even at the time. And yet, what does that matter to a young reader? Blyton’s stories have clear heroes and clear villains and even the more complex ones are still quite simplistic at heart. They draw readers into their world in ways few modern stories can match.
Nor does it help when people over-think such matters. Reams of paper and ink have been wasted debating ‘the problem of Susan,’ in which Susan Pensive is denied heaven for growing up, embracing her adult life and doing her best to forget Narnia. Lewis is condemned for this by people who think too much and yet too little. On one hand, Susan is not in heaven for the very simple reason she’s not actually dead! On the other, more thoughtfully, the Narnia books were written for young boys and Susan, from the perspective of the target audience, is actually the least interesting female character. She occupies the role of older sister, mother-figure without actually being the mother; she’s the kind of person a young boy would regard as boring, if not an outright opponent. She’s neither the tomboy-type (like Lucy and Jill) nor the fascinating enemy (like Jadis). She just is.
If you want young boys to read, you have to offer them books keyed to their interests and tastes – their real interests, not the interests you think they should have. And that means acknowledging, right from the start, that those interests will be different from both young girls and adults of both genders. Do not force them to read books that bore them, annoy them, or slander them. Let them shape their reading habits so they develop their reading muscles, then proceed onwards to more meatier works. I look back at some of the stuff I read as a kid and I roll my eyes. Did I really read that crap? Yes. I did. And it helped me develop the skills to read more.
If you want boys to read, give them books they want to read.
