John Marsden’s Reading and Parenting Advice To Me
Years ago, I asked John Marsden for advice, and I’ve had many opportunities to recall it since. Given I was a newly published author in the country, and we were appearing at the same festival, it would be reasonable for you to assume that I asked him for writing advice. Trust me, I wish I’d ask him that too. But at the time, my writing wasn’t the thing that was worrying me most – it was my three-year-old son. His response surprised me.
Like so many writers and readers around Australia, I am deeply saddened to hear of the passing of one of our greatest authors. As an aspiring writer and young English teacher in my twenties, John Marsden’s work knocked me sideways. I’d never read kids’ books like So Much to Tell You, Dear Miffy, or Letters from the Inside – books that were real, gritty, deep, shocking and spellbinding. Then, I found the Tomorrow When the War Began series. To this day, I think about moments in those books, probably more frequently in the past year, with the amount of war horrors around the world, and the number of children caught up in them. I have often thought, I wonder what Ellie and Homer and Lee would do, or Fi and Robyn.
I clearly remember the agony of waiting for release day for the final book in that series – The Other Side of Dawn. As soon as my local bookshop opened, I was there. I got the book, drove straight home, and threw myself into bed and stayed there till I had read it cover to cover. It took me weeks to process the finale because John Marsden doesn’t leave you with happily-ever-afters. He leaves you with real, unfinished, messy, complex conclusions – just like life.
But on the day I spoke to him at the Brisbane Writers’ Festival, I knew I wouldn’t have enough time with this ‘rock star’ to ask and say all the things I wanted to, so I asked about my pre-schooler. You see, I was an avid reader, an avid writer, a communications specialist and English teacher, and I did all the things you’re supposed to do with babies and toddlers to raise enthusiastic, literate, happy readers. We read five books a day, we read in bed at night, we went to the library, we went to rhyme time, there were books in every room, there was always a book in the car and one in my bag.
But then, between the ages of three and four, something changed. He didn’t like books, anymore. He actively rejected them and alarm bells rang, loud and long. So, I asked John Marsden – teacher, principal, male role model, literary giant.
What should I do?
The first thing John asked me was if I thought I was pushing my son too much. That was unexpected (but upon reflection, likely a typical John Marsden response, I imagine – something along the lines of ‘the kids are alright, it’s the adults that are the problem’). It gave me pause, for a moment, and I considered it. But I genuinely didn’t think that was the case. I was providing all the things I was ‘supposed’ to do, sure, but forcing anything on anyone is simply not in my nature. I’m more likely to retreat, think about it, then try something else – in this case, asking John for his opinion.
John scratched his chin and looked off into the distance, thinking. Then he spoke a bit about his stepchildren – all boys – and how some of them were avid readers and some were simply not. He stressed that if kids weren’t natural readers of books, that our job was just to help them find the things they enjoy and are good at and to build skills – practical skills – in other areas. They would still build literacy through other avenues. He also said that if a kid wants to read, but can’t read, that’s a problem. But if a kid can read, but just doesn’t want to, that’s not a problem. The key is to figure out the difference.
But most of all, he assured me that my son would be just fine.
I think I expected him to give me a list of ‘to do’ points – a plan to follow, a thorough covering of all bases, the magic ingredients. But he didn’t give me that. What he offered was total acceptance of the situation, total acceptance of my son, total acceptance that I could let go… and my son would be okay.
Given the tricky, patchy schooling experience we’ve gone through over the past seven years, I’ve more than once entertained the idea of moving to Victoria to enrol in one of John Marsden’s schools. Failing that, though, I’ve had cause to recall our conversation many times – like a touchstone to remind me of what’s true. I’m deeply grateful for John’s advice that day because, of course, my son is just fine.
Vale, John Marsden, and thank you.
[A shorter version of this article is published at Mamamia.]
