Non ditelo ai grandi: Libri per bambini, tutto ciò che gli adulti (non) devono sapere

by Alison Lurie, Francesco Saba Sardi (Translator)

I libri per bambini contengono tutti, per definizione, una "morale" edificante? Insegnano tutti le virtù decretate tali dal conformismo sociale? In questa sua originalissima opera Alison Lurie dimostra che così non è. Molti dei più importanti libri per bambini contengono anzi un messaggio sovversivo, di rifiuto delle prevaricazioni e dei moralismi fasulli dei "grandi" di ogni genere imposti ai "piccoli". I bambini sono una "tribù" a sé stante e i libri in questione sono i loro sacri testi, quelli che minano le convinzioni degli adulti ed esaltano libertà, indipendenza, volontà di esplorare il mondo e conoscerlo in maniera autonoma. Gli esempi? Non mancano certo ne Le avventure di Tom Sawyer, in Peter Pan, persino in Winny-Puh e in tante altre opere a volte guardate con sospetto dai "grandi", dimentichi che la disobbedienza non di rado è creativa e «meno pericolosa di quanto affermi la mamma».

Genres: Nonfiction, Books About Books, Essays, Literary Criticism, Writing, Reference, Academic

115 pages, Paperback

First published March 24, 1990

About the author

Alison Stewart Lurie was an American novelist and academic. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for her 1984 novel Foreign Affairs. Although better known as a novelist, she wrote many non-fiction books and articles, particularly on children's literature and the semiotics of dress.

Reviews

[William2 · Rating 4 out of 5]

I know very little about children’s literature so I’m grateful for this book which has introduced me to the work of Aesop, Jane Greenaway — whose unrequited love for a deranged John Ruskin simply breaks the heart — Charles Perrault, The Brothers Grimm, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Richard Hughes, Mrs. W.K. Clifford, Beatrix Potter and Ford Maddox Ford, who, among his eighty or so books, I was surprised to learn, published four for children.

When sticking to its account of children’s literature, the book is wonderful and quite helpful. Though the last chapter errs when it uses outdated Haeckelian views about embryonic development replaying the evolutionary stages of the species. But this hiccup should be skipped — the book was published in 1990 — for the rest is incredibly rich and worthwhile.

[skein · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read in one sitting and late into the night because it was SO MCUH FUN, although, yes, uneven, and difficult to follow in places if one hasn't read the original books. Children's literature (Lurie says) runs under the radar, and the authors of children's literature often possess the same attribute, being commonly women; they are able to critique the social world, the world of adulthood, in a way that only outsiders can do.

They are able to get away it because they are only women, and their stories are only for children, and no one notices that the weak people in the fairy tales are men, and the powerful people -- for good or evil -- are women and children. Kind-hearted or wicked, they are nevertheless clever and innovative. They take risks. They talk back. They get what they want. (I fucking love children's literature.)

She says a lot of other good stuff, too; I don't agree with everything, but most of it is well-considered. SO MUCH FUN.

[Dest · Rating 2 out of 5]

For me, this book didn't live up to its title. Sure, it's kind of about "the subversive power of children's literature," but it's actually mostly about the biographies of certain children's authors and how certain children's stories are archetypes for adult literary fiction. And it's not a cohesive book at all. It's a series of essays that were probably originally intended for lit crit mags. When Lurie does address subversiveness, it's usually historical (the book was published in 1990, so I didn't expect nearly every essay to be about Victorian social norms).

I wanted this book to address a subject that really interests me, which is the way some kids books intentionally guide their readers toward a certain way of thinking. I was actually hoping this book would be a better version of my college seminar paper, which was about how Disney movies paved the way for gay rights. Oh well.

[Lora · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was an uneven book which I still mostly enjoyed reading. Most chapters are about individual authors, the big names of childrens' lit. The rest is inconsistent analysis of past and present. Most conclusions I disagreed with, but I was pleased that the author while standing by her own claims, didn't automatically try to trash other viewpoints. On the other hand, she regards older standards of literature as having a form of contrivance to them but then ignores that more modern lit also has its counter contrivances, as it were. In other words, the moral standards of the past were somehow made up and the new lit-thank heavens- has grown beyond that. I don't mean to support the 'it's good for you dear child' mode of writing, but I guess what I'm saying is that the author wants so badly to see subversive writing where she wants to see it, and then analyzes in ways that miss major points and comes to conclusions that appear to be way off track. I was often left scratching my head and thinking that my own conclusions were nearly opposite hers. Of course, I am the right one!
The psychological analysis kinda flew in the face of all the included statements about remembering what childhood was like. The last chapter was really far off kilter, to my thinking. That's what psychoanalysis does, it misses the value of personal experience. Among other things.
The chapters about specific authors were very interesting- the ones about Beatrix Potter and Milne were my favorites. They were very well done.

[Katie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Back in the day, this book was subtitled "Subversive Children's Literature," which I think is more a propos. But maybe someone didn't like the double entendre. The chapter on "The Folklore of Childhood" (which is in my edition, if not the current one) certainly suggests that children are pretty subversive, with their jumprope rhymes about sex and booze, and their pervasive myths about the adult world, and this certainly squares with my own memories pretty well.

Certainly my own favorite childhood books are not the goody-goody ones--I prefer best the ones that have a little bit of an edge to them, where the characters have character, break a rule now and then, have a sense of humor, buck a stupid system. And best of all I like an author who creates a believeable world, even if s/he doesn't tell the world's greatest story.

I like Lurie's prose style as much as her subject matter--dry, ironical, scholarly, yet warm and cosy too. She sounds like someone sidling up to you at a party, with drink in hand, to make witty observations about the guests, and yet she never says anything really bad about anyone.

This is one of my all-time favorites.

[Amy · Rating 4 out of 5]

My favorite quotation from the book: "The Secret Garden is the story of two unhappy, sickly, overcivilized children who achieve health and happiness through a combination of communal gardening, mystical faith, daily exercises, encounter-group-type confrontation, and a health-food diet." I think this book is mistitled, but I recommend it to people who are interested in Victorian life & literature. There are some amazing biographical facts about J.M. Barrie, John Ruskin and so on. There is also a great discussion of that Gnomes book that used to be on everyone's coffee table during the late 70s.

[Melly · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was recommended to me someplace when I thought I wanted to be a children's author, and it was a tremendous inspiration to me then. However! It's a brilliant read regardless. Very enlightening.

[Dawn · Rating 3 out of 5]

It took a while to get into the book. Despite the title each chapter was devoted more to a mini-biolgraphy of children's author who wrote works that weren't the "norm" for the times. They did talk about the books but at times it seemed the "subversive" part was a stretch. Granted that could be our society has changed quite a bit since some of these novels came out. I'll warn you the chapters dedicated to the first 1-2 authors weren't as interesting and in one case disturbing so I'd advise to stick it out as they get more interesting further on. I did find it fascinating to read about authors (and books) I had not heard about. I also learned new things about well-known authors, such as J. M. Barrie, and books they wrote that I didn't know about, which made the book worth the read.

[Jeff Lewonczyk · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book in pieces over two and a half months, which turned out to be a good strategy for what is essentially a collection of reviews and essays from a span of years. Though not written as a single cohesive argument, the presence is that children's literature has a long tradition of embedding values and messages that stand at odds with mainstream culture - anti-authoritarian thoughts, altered gender roles, etc. Lurie introduced me to some interesting new authors I'm looking into reading (and re-introduced me to some I'd taken for granted and written off), but my favorite chapters were the ones that dealt more generally with folklore and trends over time. I'd like to read a more comprehensive critical history of subversive kid's literature at some point, but this was a fine intro, with many great insights to be mined along the way.

[Kaethe · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was clicking and clicking trying to find an image of the right cover and therefore the right edition. I forgot that this came from an academic library and had no dustjacket. Doh.

Library copy

[Lisa Houlihan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Alison Lurie's collection of essays is entertaining and at times thought-provoking, but mostly her analyses were too Freudian for me. And inconsistent: she says death was absent from children's literature until the 20th century. In context, it's possible she meant absent in the first half of that century, but she's not clear and says this just after mentioning Little Women. People die left and right in Louisa May Alcott, Frances Hodgson Burnett, L.M. Montgomery, and Elizabeth Enright, and even Nancy Drew's mother is dead. Granted, most of the deaths happen off the page, at the very beginning to establish the setting, or to background characters you've never met -- like the Melendys' mother and Nancy's. Beth is an exception, but a glaringly contradictory one.

After, say, 1960, the morbidity rate for mothers rises sharply. A friend of mine lamented the dead mothers in contemporary books for her daughter, and she's right: many Newbery medalists including Voigt and Creech, lots of Joan Aiken, the Penderwicks, the Traveling Pants series, and Harry Potter of course. Probably because all the girl protagonists have Electra complexes.

More about authors than power to the pipsqueaks, but okay.

[Debby Zigenis-Lowery · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found the first two-thirds of this book fascinating with Lurie's detailed discussion of early authors in the the field of children's literature. However, when I hit the chapter on Tolkien (and T.H. White), I was taken somewhat aback. While I love and admire White as Lurie does, I found her discussion of Tolkien shallow and disappointing. It seems clear she has not made a close study of Tolkien's writing, and it undercut the trust I had for her discussion of the earlier authors and her basic premise that children love the books they love because they are subversive. While I can agree that much of what she writes make sense, I cannot fully embrace her theories.

[Jeffrey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting but, as I've learned about Lurie, full of silly flaws - she rebukes Ford Maddox Ford for writing too much because he needed to earn a living but has no problem with Frances Hodgson Burnett for doing the same thing - she paints Ruskin as a predator but doesn't tarnish JM Barrie who was much worse in many ways - I find her readings often superficial but still there is something worthwhile in her endeavour to bring a serious critical eye to children's literature in pieces mostly written for the New York Review of Books and the NYT Book Review sections

[Lara · Rating 3 out of 5]

I find Ms. Lurie's claim that she just couldn't find any American children's authors (in the year 1990) whose works suitably showed the subversive trends she was writing about somewhat spurious. No mention of Beverly Cleary and puckish Ramona? No discussion of Marguerite Henry and her animal stories? No Laura Ingalls Wilder and her subversive repackaging of her autobiography? Not even a passing mention of Gary Paulsen? Come on.

[Miriam · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lurie writes about the fact that many of the most beloved books in children's literature poke fun at, ridicule, or deeply question the culture that the book was written in. Alice in Wonderland, Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan and many others have a subversive edge to them. I enjoy that and so I liked the book.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not as sensationalistic as the title suggests, this book describes mostly Victorian and Edwardian classics in children's literature and how they mocked the social mores of their day. I really enjoyed the chapters on fairy tales, as well as Peter Pan, Peter Rabbit, Pooh Bear, Kate Greenaway and John Ruskin.

[Aya · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not a very deep examination and somewhat uneven. It's not light enough really to just be a popular piece, sometimes it veers into serious scholarship and sometimes it skims right through whole concepts.
But a good beginning. I was also conscious that most of my dislike came from how dated the approach now seems.

[LPR · Rating 3 out of 5]

A great and very interesting read for my FTTV research. Always trying to find information about children's television, and my hope was to find some ways to link the theories in this book to the television form. Anyway, totally wonderful, lots of fascinating biographical details of children's authors!

[Janie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Different than I expected. It wasn't essays about the literature itself so much as the authors of subversive children's literature, but it was entertaining nonetheless. It inspired me to look for the some of the books mentioned.

[Thom Dunn]

(2-11-2011) Amazon doesn't know "when or if" will be available. Listed as an import. Could it be a British title ?


Not mentioned at all in the Wikipedia article on Lurie....HOWEVER, the title of a children's book, Not in Front of the GROWN UPS, may be what the poster of this title intended ??

[Elizabeth Bradley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Like the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead, when this book is good, it's very, very good, but when it's not, it's ....plodding and academic. Still, I came away w/a new appreciation for Beatrix Potter - who knew she was a gifted botanist? - among other favorite authors...

[Riccardo Mainetti · Rating 5 out of 5]

Alison Lurie conduce i lettori di questo interessantissimo libro in un viaggio all'interno del vasto mondo della letteratura per ragazzi.
Una lettura consigliata a quanti vogliono scoprire alcuni segreti di questo settore letterario.

[Chris Meger · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love the idea that children's stories are dangerous to the status quo. And thank god they are. This is a great book that adds a wonderful sub-text to pretty much the whole world.

[Deb (Readerbuzz) Nance · Rating 3 out of 5]

Little biographical and psychological sketches of well-known children's authors. Not as edgy as I'd hoped; closer to a series of lectures by a university professor on children's literature.

[Greg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nothing groundbreaking (though it's 20 years old and I've read a disproportionate amount of this sort of this), but quite good. Especially liked the chapters on Nesbit and Tolkien/White

[Elle Mill · Rating 3 out of 5]

A nice survey of the history of children's literature and collection of lesser known facts about famous children's authors, including Beatrix Potter, Kate Greenaway, J. M. Barrie, and A. A. Milne.

[Alison Forde · Rating 3 out of 5]

Accessible text - worth a look.

[Jane · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lurie is a excellent critic and historian of children's books. These essays were a pleasure to thumb through.

[Tom Schulte · Rating 4 out of 5]

This study of authors (A.A. Milne, J.R.R. Tolkien, J.M. Barrie, Margery Williams Bianco, etc.) sees the youngest readers as from a "tribe" with the writers' goal to "...tell a story with universal appeal to anyone anywhere who finds himself, like most children, at a social disadvantage."

Children, however, are still living largely in a folk culture. They are still actively inventing and passing on stories and verses, some of which have the simplicity, originality, and profundity of great folk literature.

I get the impression all these authors were socially maladjusted in some significant way. Also, the most impactful children's literature is dark and direct in ways softened by rewrites and adaptations later on.

I always found it interesting how evolution reflects in fetal development. As part of a final section that instead of looking at a single writer considers the organic growth of jokes, rhymes, play-songs, etc. this is used as a metaphor.

Though these verses carry a clear message, to an adult much of the folklore of childhood may sound trivial or even meaningless. This is to make the same kind of mistake that early explorers made when they couldn't understand the stories and jokes told in other cultures. Later on, anthropologists who took the time to study these societies understood their folklore indeed, studying the folklore was one of the ways they came to understand the society.

Anyone who has spent time around children and observed them carefully, or really remembers what it was like to be a child, knows that childhood is also a separate culture, with its own rituals, beliefs, games, and customs, and its own, largely oral, literature. Childhood, in this sense, is a primitive society - or rather, several primitive societies, one leading into the other. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny; the development of the individual parallels the development of the race.

Just as the stages of the human embryo repeat the stages of human evolution, so that at one point the embryo has gills and later a tail, the social development of the individual child repeats that of the human species. The earliest stage is that of prehistoric man and woman, or prehistoric baby. This creature is a savage whose principal interest is survival. Socially his or her world is very small, usually limited to the immediate family, and he/she is preverbal cannot speak but communicates in sign language or with inarticulate cries.

...

Next come ancient man and woman, socialized to the extent that they can function in small groups, as a two- or three-year-old does. Anthropologists studying primitive societies believe that this is often a matriarchal stage, in which the important authority figures are women...

[Kayla · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars.
You can definitely tell that this was originally published in 1990. The language is very academic and a little stiff. It helped me appreciate just how far nonfiction has come in the last 30 years.
Some of the essays are far better and more interesting than the others. My favorites were "Folktale Liberation," which talks quite a lot about the feminism that appeared in the original versions of many of the fairytales we know today; "Animal Liberation: Beatrix Potter"; "The Boy Who Couldn't Grow Up: James Barrie"; and "Back to Pooh Corner: A.A. Milne". I suppose I can't say for sure without actually reading all of the books themselves, but it seemed to me that the author spent a lot of time in many of the essays talking about the works for adults that were written by authors who happened to also write children's books.
My favorite passage in the whole book is still the one that Bruce Handy quoted in Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children's Literature as an Adult, which is where I learned about this book in the first place:

Many...authors of juvenile classics...have had the ability to look at the world from below and note its less respectable aspects, just as little children playing on the floor can see the chewing gum stuck to the underside of polished mahogany tables and the hems of silk dresses held up with safety pins.

One interesting impression that I came away from the essay about Kate Greenaway with is that she was actually a pretty mediocre artist. This is kind of odd considering that the Kate Greenaway Medal is essentially the British equivalent of the Randolph Caldecott Medal in the U.S., given for "distinguished illustration in a book for children."