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Fierce Bad Rabbits: The Tales Behind Children's Picture Books
What is The Tiger Who Came to Tea really about?
What has Meg and Mog got to do with Polish embroidery?
Why is death in picture books so often represented by being eaten? We've read Green Eggs and Ham, laughed at Mr Tickle and whetted our appetites with The Very Hungry Caterpillar. But what lies behind the picture books that make up our childhood? Fierce Bad Rabbits takes us on an eye-opening journey in a pea-green boat through the history of picture books. From Edward Lear through to Beatrix Potter and contemporary picture books like Stick Man, Clare Pollard shines a light on some of our best-loved childhood stories, their histories and what they really mean. Because the best picture books are far more complex than they seem - and darker too. Monsters can gobble up children and go unnoticed, power is not always used wisely, and the wild things are closer than you think. Sparkling with wit, magic and nostalgia, Fierce Bad Rabbits weaves in tales from Clare's own childhood, and her re-readings as a parent, with fascinating facts and theories about the authors behind the books. Introducing you to new treasures while bringing your childhood favourites to vivid life, it will make you see even stories you've read a hundred times afresh.
What has Meg and Mog got to do with Polish embroidery?
Why is death in picture books so often represented by being eaten? We've read Green Eggs and Ham, laughed at Mr Tickle and whetted our appetites with The Very Hungry Caterpillar. But what lies behind the picture books that make up our childhood? Fierce Bad Rabbits takes us on an eye-opening journey in a pea-green boat through the history of picture books. From Edward Lear through to Beatrix Potter and contemporary picture books like Stick Man, Clare Pollard shines a light on some of our best-loved childhood stories, their histories and what they really mean. Because the best picture books are far more complex than they seem - and darker too. Monsters can gobble up children and go unnoticed, power is not always used wisely, and the wild things are closer than you think. Sparkling with wit, magic and nostalgia, Fierce Bad Rabbits weaves in tales from Clare's own childhood, and her re-readings as a parent, with fascinating facts and theories about the authors behind the books. Introducing you to new treasures while bringing your childhood favourites to vivid life, it will make you see even stories you've read a hundred times afresh.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2019
17 people are currently reading
992 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews
January 7, 2022
What a fantastic read for lovers of children’s books and bookworms everywhere!
I absolutely loved reading all the historical background to some of my (and our son’s) favourite picture books and their authors, eg
- that Jan Pienkowski and Helen Nicoll used to meet at Membury Services on the M4 when they were working together on the first Meg and Mog books (who knew, all the times we stopped there on our way to Wales and back?!)
- fascinating biographical information about Robert Munsch, author of The Paper Bag Princess and of the Ahlbergs’ Burglar Bill (I once had a friend from London’s East End who used to read all the villain characters in stories to her son in a middle-class voice, and in this case, rather than the usual choice of working-class Cockney for Burglar Bill!)
- the background to Iona and Peter Opie’s The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren*
- marvellous quotes by CS Lewis and GK Chesterton about childhood and reading.
Also really enjoyed the autobiographical elements from Clare Pollard, including the beautifully written Coda:
- with her fears about new born babies, what can go wrong
‘How I loved, as soon as I was old enough, to ring in biro all the shows I wanted to watch in the double issue Radio Times!”
‘No one seems to defend boy’s culture any more, but growing up there was much I liked about it: adventure, courage, jokes. I had no interest in pinkness, pony hair, dolls that wept actual tears, or any of the other sorry trivialities with which I was apparently supposed to distract myself. ‘
‘But milk and stories is our special time, cosied up on the bed. I want to teach Gruff about the lovely, intricate world and all its enchantments.’
‘However much you love an adult, they must bear their struggles and sadnesses themselves. Sometimes you must accept you cannot help; sometimes they are bent on destroying themselves and you cannot stop them. But when you love a small child, for a little while at least, their joy can be entirely within your gift... What luck it is, Dogger reminds us, to live in such days.’
I mourn the demise of the United Kingdom Net Book Agreement, whose history she gives.
I was chilled at her description of speaking/listening toys.
Penelope Lively wrote of this book:
‘When I read Fierce Bad Rabbits, I thought, why has no one written this book before? But Clare Pollard has done so superbly - it is perceptive, illuminating, scholarly but at the same time entertaining.’
I agree! Highly recommended.
I absolutely loved reading all the historical background to some of my (and our son’s) favourite picture books and their authors, eg
- that Jan Pienkowski and Helen Nicoll used to meet at Membury Services on the M4 when they were working together on the first Meg and Mog books (who knew, all the times we stopped there on our way to Wales and back?!)
- fascinating biographical information about Robert Munsch, author of The Paper Bag Princess and of the Ahlbergs’ Burglar Bill (I once had a friend from London’s East End who used to read all the villain characters in stories to her son in a middle-class voice, and in this case, rather than the usual choice of working-class Cockney for Burglar Bill!)
- the background to Iona and Peter Opie’s The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren*
- marvellous quotes by CS Lewis and GK Chesterton about childhood and reading.
Also really enjoyed the autobiographical elements from Clare Pollard, including the beautifully written Coda:
- with her fears about new born babies, what can go wrong
‘How I loved, as soon as I was old enough, to ring in biro all the shows I wanted to watch in the double issue Radio Times!”
‘No one seems to defend boy’s culture any more, but growing up there was much I liked about it: adventure, courage, jokes. I had no interest in pinkness, pony hair, dolls that wept actual tears, or any of the other sorry trivialities with which I was apparently supposed to distract myself. ‘
‘But milk and stories is our special time, cosied up on the bed. I want to teach Gruff about the lovely, intricate world and all its enchantments.’
‘However much you love an adult, they must bear their struggles and sadnesses themselves. Sometimes you must accept you cannot help; sometimes they are bent on destroying themselves and you cannot stop them. But when you love a small child, for a little while at least, their joy can be entirely within your gift... What luck it is, Dogger reminds us, to live in such days.’
I mourn the demise of the United Kingdom Net Book Agreement, whose history she gives.
I was chilled at her description of speaking/listening toys.
Penelope Lively wrote of this book:
‘When I read Fierce Bad Rabbits, I thought, why has no one written this book before? But Clare Pollard has done so superbly - it is perceptive, illuminating, scholarly but at the same time entertaining.’
I agree! Highly recommended.
April 10, 2020
Fierce Bad Rabbits is a history of children's picture books, interspersed with memories of Pollard's childhood and the books she reads to her own young children. Erudite but never stuffy, full of fascinating facts about writers and illustrators, Pollard has really done her research. I absolutely loved it, and it reminded me about some books I'd forgotten. My only regret was that it has languished on my 'to read' shelf for so long.
January 15, 2023
A mixture of autobiography and insights into the context that picture books were produced in. As well as the general historical and cultural context we get fascinating insights into writers/illustrators own biographies that framed the books they created. Picture books being what they are there is wonderful information into how particular artists created the images they did. Had me going back to the picture books on my bookshelves with a new appreciation of their craft as well as their message.
August 15, 2020
At its best when at its most personal. I definitely recommend it for a lovely exploration of *re-reading* and of the shift between childhood reading and adult reading.
Pollard does a lovely job of sifting through some very silly academic interpretations of famous books (tho personally I do wonder if The Tiger Who Came to Tea actually began as a mish mash retelling of the feeding of AA Milne’s Tigger when he first arrives in The wood, no one seems to have noticed it’s the same story).
Although Pollard cites Jacqueline Rose the book - for me - demonstrates what I’ve been arguing for a while: children aren’t a separate species. We are the child we were; the child we were is us.
Full disclosure. After reading this book which i’d bought *entirely* because it sounded good, I looked up the author and realised I’m an idiot. She’s the fantastic editor of Magazine of Poetry in Translation (which is why the consideration of children’s poetry here is superior to anything else I’ve read) and I am a Trustee of MPT.
Pollard does a lovely job of sifting through some very silly academic interpretations of famous books (tho personally I do wonder if The Tiger Who Came to Tea actually began as a mish mash retelling of the feeding of AA Milne’s Tigger when he first arrives in The wood, no one seems to have noticed it’s the same story).
Although Pollard cites Jacqueline Rose the book - for me - demonstrates what I’ve been arguing for a while: children aren’t a separate species. We are the child we were; the child we were is us.
Full disclosure. After reading this book which i’d bought *entirely* because it sounded good, I looked up the author and realised I’m an idiot. She’s the fantastic editor of Magazine of Poetry in Translation (which is why the consideration of children’s poetry here is superior to anything else I’ve read) and I am a Trustee of MPT.
June 29, 2023
As a school librarian, picture books form a big part of my life. Furthermore books about picture books are my kryptonite and I can’t resist reading them. Unfortunately there are varying degrees of quality but Fierce Bad Rabbits is one of the better books on the subject.
Poet Clare Pollard speaks about the history of picture books and then offers different interpretations, One such example is Judith Kerr’s The Tiger who Came to Tea apart from the standard interpretation about family there’s also a feminist view and a political one. Plus we get the origin of the book and some background information about Kerr. Usually then the reader gets a glimpse at how the book played a role in Clare Pollard’s life.
As a book it’s a good eyeopener to those who think that picture books are just children’s fare, when they contain hidden depths and layers. David McKee’s Elmer was inspired by a racial slur , Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham has questionable ethics etc It’s a fun read with quite a lot of fascinating information. perfect for the picture book aficionado or someone with a passing interest.
Poet Clare Pollard speaks about the history of picture books and then offers different interpretations, One such example is Judith Kerr’s The Tiger who Came to Tea apart from the standard interpretation about family there’s also a feminist view and a political one. Plus we get the origin of the book and some background information about Kerr. Usually then the reader gets a glimpse at how the book played a role in Clare Pollard’s life.
As a book it’s a good eyeopener to those who think that picture books are just children’s fare, when they contain hidden depths and layers. David McKee’s Elmer was inspired by a racial slur , Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham has questionable ethics etc It’s a fun read with quite a lot of fascinating information. perfect for the picture book aficionado or someone with a passing interest.
December 2, 2020
I read a children's because they are sweet and who doesn't like listening to a story. This book will open your eyes to the story behind the story and some of them are very dark. Also you get to know the authors who have written these children's stories. very interesting book, but I think I am happy to just read a sweet story.
October 24, 2022
That was terrible. Pollard tries to say everything whilst doing very little to convince her audience of any of her points. She takes a gleeful delight in dragging up every major tragedy in the lives of the writers’ and artists’ behind many of the books she discusses, regardless of how these events relate to the analysis of the books themselves. So much so that she starts to come off as almost giddy with wanting to let you know all the torrid details of ACTUAL people’s lives, with no sensibility to the people in question.
Speaking of an excess of details every analysis, retrospective, or brake down of the books Pollard offers us is shallow, offering only cursory sometimes contradictory views of the books in question. The moments where Pollard discusses her own life are probably the most interesting points in the book, but they for the most part still fail to elevate or help you connect better to the themes of the books being discussed.
Instead, we jump from book to book, and it immediately becomes apparent that Pollard is largely using these 250 pages as a mouthpiece for her own political worldview, without taking the time to properly build the connections she is trying to between the works in question, and her own often contradictory beliefs. DO you want woman to be free from the constraints of having a family and children, or not? DO you want children to read stories that encourage them to transgress beyond the bounds and constraints of society and lawmaking - whether that be in the form of government or parent authority - or don’t you? ARE you a woman who scorns conventionally feminine likes and habits, or are you someone who spent just as much time in your childhood enchanted by the idea of fairies as the rest of us? By the time I had finished the book it felt like I’d been doom scrolling through someone’s Twitter timeline, and walked away from it feeling like I’d absorbed 289 pages with roughly the same amount of depth.
The writing, while not unreadable comes off as overly simple most of the time; Pollard will frequently interject or end her paragraphs and chapters with what are either meant to be witty asides, citing pointed yet unrelated facts about an author, or try to sound poetic and charming with pastoral descriptions, who’s insipidness is quickly put on full display when contrasted with lines from far more skilled writers that she oh so kindly will quote within the same sentence.
Also, if I have to hear ONE more person make the claim that fairytales are sexist, female infantilizing stereotypes of what woman can be, I will have to start considering adopting a few new neurotic habits.
Speaking of an excess of details every analysis, retrospective, or brake down of the books Pollard offers us is shallow, offering only cursory sometimes contradictory views of the books in question. The moments where Pollard discusses her own life are probably the most interesting points in the book, but they for the most part still fail to elevate or help you connect better to the themes of the books being discussed.
Instead, we jump from book to book, and it immediately becomes apparent that Pollard is largely using these 250 pages as a mouthpiece for her own political worldview, without taking the time to properly build the connections she is trying to between the works in question, and her own often contradictory beliefs. DO you want woman to be free from the constraints of having a family and children, or not? DO you want children to read stories that encourage them to transgress beyond the bounds and constraints of society and lawmaking - whether that be in the form of government or parent authority - or don’t you? ARE you a woman who scorns conventionally feminine likes and habits, or are you someone who spent just as much time in your childhood enchanted by the idea of fairies as the rest of us? By the time I had finished the book it felt like I’d been doom scrolling through someone’s Twitter timeline, and walked away from it feeling like I’d absorbed 289 pages with roughly the same amount of depth.
The writing, while not unreadable comes off as overly simple most of the time; Pollard will frequently interject or end her paragraphs and chapters with what are either meant to be witty asides, citing pointed yet unrelated facts about an author, or try to sound poetic and charming with pastoral descriptions, who’s insipidness is quickly put on full display when contrasted with lines from far more skilled writers that she oh so kindly will quote within the same sentence.
Also, if I have to hear ONE more person make the claim that fairytales are sexist, female infantilizing stereotypes of what woman can be, I will have to start considering adopting a few new neurotic habits.
November 16, 2020
Those searching for the perfect gift for the bibliophiles in their lives need look no further. The relationship we have with the books we read in childhood is incredibly potent and it is one that we carry into adulthood. In Fierce Bad Rabbits, Clare Pollard charts the history of children's picture books from the earliest known illustrated stories right up until the present day. The bibliomemoir has become an increasingly popular genre over recent years but this is much more than that. As a poet, Pollard is particularly well suited to sing the song of the picture book, which is all too often denied its proper seat in the canon of literature. Part history, part psychology, Fierce Bad Rabbits is a meditation on reading and the power of the visual story. I will never look at bedtime stories the same way again.
Starting with A Little Pretty Pocket Book in 1744, Pollard chronicles the development of the illustrated story and how the interplay between text and image has changed over time. Almost every page of Fierce Bad Rabbits is packed with revelations about the history of children's publishing. I have always found the work of Kate Greenaway to be rather creepy. Now I know why. She was adapting her work to suit her mentor, John Ruskin. That John Ruskin. He who fell in love with a nine year-old and refused to consummate his marriage to his wife because she had pubic hair. In a letter, Ruskin requested that Greenaway draw little girls without any clothes on, although his concerned companion added an anxious note to the letter 'Do nothing of the kind!'. While I knew that there was some not-so-great elements to Victorian children's literature, I was disconcerted that such a pioneer in illustration was so heavily influenced by a pedophile.
From there, Pollard moves on to analysing the shifting role of the anthropomorphised animal, from their earliest forms in Aesop's Fables through to Beatrix Potter and Miffy and Peppa. This was thought-provoking for me as I've been surprised on the re-read by just how brutal a lot of Peter Rabbit and co really are. Specifically, The Tale of a Fierce Bad Rabbit is one of the most alarming pieces of children's literature that I have ever seen. And then there's Alison Uttley's Little Grey Rabbit stories, which I do remember liking as a young child. As an adult, her passive subservience is actually disturbing to the extent that I'm having second thoughts about reading them to my son. Pollard describes how we use these clothed animals to explain the world to our offspring but as the way we live has changed, these stories have become museum pieces. I read Maisie Goes To Nursery with my baby repeatedly before he started in childcare, I have a potty-related book to explain how he might move on from nappies and the Astronaut is always more ready to accept a new concept if it can be reframed through something similar that happened to Bing Bunny. But stories have nothing to do with the behaviours of real animals. One of the unnerving aspects about Beatrix Potter is that it straddles the two worlds. Mrs Tabitha Twitch instructs her children to walk on their hindlegs to appear more human, even though they find it uncomfortable. Mr Jeremy Fisher may be having grand visitors to tea but he serves roast grasshopper with ladybird sauce. Peter Rabbit's father was baked in a pie. Savagery and sentiment exist side by side - it makes for uneasy bedtime reading.
Also, while this is not the first time that I've felt like it would be good to find out more about Beatrix Potter, reading Fierce Bad Rabbits made me think that I really do need to read her biography. The woman was incredible in how she managed to break out of a stifling Victorian home and while the contemporary society prevented her from achieving the scientific career she originally desired, her business acumen was fantastic. It takes a remarkable woman to build a career and largely fund the National Trust on the shoulders of a rabbit in a blue coat. She was a pioneer in terms of merchandising and spin-off products and through this she not only made her own fortune but also set the National Trust up in very good stead.
Pollard observes at one point, 'Behind every story, another story', and this is really her whole point in Fierce Bad Rabbits. You look at Janet and Allen Ahlberg's Peepo and you see a baby learning about the world. You look again and you realise that the baby is Allen Ahlberg himself and then you know that this baby is newly adopted and learning about this unfamiliar family while World War Two is happening in the background.
One particularly poignant section was on the various authors of children's picture books who are also Holocaust survivors. Not only the iconic Judith Kerr of Mog and Tiger Who Came To Tea fame but also The Very Hungry Caterpillar's Eric Carle and Where The Wild Things Are's Maurice Sendak. Pollard draws the link between their shared trauma and their depictions of hunger on the page. Judith Kerr always rejected the idea that the titular tiger represented Hitler. She pointed out that Sophie hugs the tiger and that 'one would never snuggle the Gestapo, even subconsciously'. Sometimes a tiger really is just a tiger.
In the case of Eric Carle though, I do now find myself reading his books differently. There is such agony in the fact that he had a happy early childhood in America before his homesick mother moved the family back to Germany just in time for the outbreak of war. The adult Carle fought bitterly with his publisher over the stomachache scene in Caterpillar as he hated the idea of a character being punished for having been hungry. Even years afterwards he felt that including it compromised the book. Reading this in 2020 in the wake of public debate over child hunger, it feels like another example of hunger being shameful. The page makes me uncomfortable. The caterpillar was hungry. He ate. He deserved no retribution.
Fierce Bad Rabbits is one of those glorious books that unearths something startling on every single page. So many authors of children's picture books appear to have a background in trauma. Martin Waddell survived a harrowing incident in the Troubles. Shirley Hughes endured childhood bereavement and early poverty. Julia Donaldson lost a son. It is so easy to be dismissive of the picture book. While it is the portal that we pass through on our journey to wards reading, it is also a form that many of us are encouraged to leave behind. I was around seven when my mother told me that she would buy me no more picture books and when I tried to check some out from the library, I was again advised that I should be reading things that were more grown up. It's hard to really place blame here; I was a budding book fiend with an insatiable desire for more and more things to read and priorities had to be struck. But the picture book is not 'lesser'. Telling a complete story in just a few pages and partnering both image and word is no mean feat.
I always enjoy the picture books where the illustration mocks the printed word. In Mog and the Baby, the words say that Mog loves babies but we see the cat's aghast expression and recognise this as a lie. One of the many fabulous things about Judith Kerr is that she geared her books towards budding readers and never included words where the picture had already done the job. One of the difficulties for the parent reader though is knowing how to engage with this. In the Meg and Mog books, there is often so much happening at once, how do I convey the chaos to my son? Pollard comments on her own struggle to convey the silences in Where the Wild Things Are with three double pages featuring Max's adventures as monarch of the Wild Things. Do you whoop? Describe what is happening? I think there is no single correct answer.
As I often do with bibliomemoirs, I found myself nodding along enthusiastically to a number of Pollard's picture book peeves. I am similarly ambivalent about the recent fashion for bookish merchandising. I understand her thought that child would surely form a bond more easily with an anonymous stuffed cat rather than a branded 'Mog' one. But yet my son loves our giant Moomintroll and is always excited to play 'match' with his snuggly 'Little Nutbrown Hare' when we read Guess How Much I Love You.
One point that had me punching the air though was on the gender divides in picture books. During my abbreviated teaching career, I was appalled by how picture books seemed to have been dumbed down into princess books for girls and vomit and excrement related books for boys. As I navigate the challenges of being mother to a male child, his reading has been an area of particular interest to me. I don't want to pick books for him just because I liked them but surely it is patronising to assume him incapable of enjoying books that don't centre around the contents of a toilet? I was intrigued by Pollard's theory that yuk-themed books represent the patriarchy encouraging male children to turn against the female maternal body. I have a nasty feeling that she is on to something - there is a lot of this out there. Yet by shouting 'poopypants' loudly and repeatedly, it only serves to confirm to boys that they are otherwise supposed to find reading dull. It's not about being prudish because there are clever picture books about excrement. The Mole Who Knew It Was None Of His Business is an excellent example. But the vast, overwhelming majority are devoid of any real imagination and mindless rubbish is never going to make a child connect with the magic of reading.
Fierce Bad Rabbits is a rallying call for the the picture book and a timely one at that. Increasingly we see the rise and rise of celebrity children's authors, particularly in the illustrated section. In Fierce Bad Rabbits, Pollard reminds us of the particular power of the books that we read first. These are not stories that just anyone could conjure up given an illustrator sidekick. And indeed, while it might seem simple enough to gather together anecdotes about picture books, what Pollard has achieved here is something quite spectacular. She is a poet and in her hands, we soar to new heights and through our reading we travel in time. The book's closing lines made me cry 'The milk is poured; we snuggle on the bed. I am forty and I am four. As I read the story to my children, my father reads the story to me again, and yes, we are lucky'.
Buy this for all the bibliophiles in your life. They will thank you.
Starting with A Little Pretty Pocket Book in 1744, Pollard chronicles the development of the illustrated story and how the interplay between text and image has changed over time. Almost every page of Fierce Bad Rabbits is packed with revelations about the history of children's publishing. I have always found the work of Kate Greenaway to be rather creepy. Now I know why. She was adapting her work to suit her mentor, John Ruskin. That John Ruskin. He who fell in love with a nine year-old and refused to consummate his marriage to his wife because she had pubic hair. In a letter, Ruskin requested that Greenaway draw little girls without any clothes on, although his concerned companion added an anxious note to the letter 'Do nothing of the kind!'. While I knew that there was some not-so-great elements to Victorian children's literature, I was disconcerted that such a pioneer in illustration was so heavily influenced by a pedophile.
From there, Pollard moves on to analysing the shifting role of the anthropomorphised animal, from their earliest forms in Aesop's Fables through to Beatrix Potter and Miffy and Peppa. This was thought-provoking for me as I've been surprised on the re-read by just how brutal a lot of Peter Rabbit and co really are. Specifically, The Tale of a Fierce Bad Rabbit is one of the most alarming pieces of children's literature that I have ever seen. And then there's Alison Uttley's Little Grey Rabbit stories, which I do remember liking as a young child. As an adult, her passive subservience is actually disturbing to the extent that I'm having second thoughts about reading them to my son. Pollard describes how we use these clothed animals to explain the world to our offspring but as the way we live has changed, these stories have become museum pieces. I read Maisie Goes To Nursery with my baby repeatedly before he started in childcare, I have a potty-related book to explain how he might move on from nappies and the Astronaut is always more ready to accept a new concept if it can be reframed through something similar that happened to Bing Bunny. But stories have nothing to do with the behaviours of real animals. One of the unnerving aspects about Beatrix Potter is that it straddles the two worlds. Mrs Tabitha Twitch instructs her children to walk on their hindlegs to appear more human, even though they find it uncomfortable. Mr Jeremy Fisher may be having grand visitors to tea but he serves roast grasshopper with ladybird sauce. Peter Rabbit's father was baked in a pie. Savagery and sentiment exist side by side - it makes for uneasy bedtime reading.
Also, while this is not the first time that I've felt like it would be good to find out more about Beatrix Potter, reading Fierce Bad Rabbits made me think that I really do need to read her biography. The woman was incredible in how she managed to break out of a stifling Victorian home and while the contemporary society prevented her from achieving the scientific career she originally desired, her business acumen was fantastic. It takes a remarkable woman to build a career and largely fund the National Trust on the shoulders of a rabbit in a blue coat. She was a pioneer in terms of merchandising and spin-off products and through this she not only made her own fortune but also set the National Trust up in very good stead.
Pollard observes at one point, 'Behind every story, another story', and this is really her whole point in Fierce Bad Rabbits. You look at Janet and Allen Ahlberg's Peepo and you see a baby learning about the world. You look again and you realise that the baby is Allen Ahlberg himself and then you know that this baby is newly adopted and learning about this unfamiliar family while World War Two is happening in the background.
One particularly poignant section was on the various authors of children's picture books who are also Holocaust survivors. Not only the iconic Judith Kerr of Mog and Tiger Who Came To Tea fame but also The Very Hungry Caterpillar's Eric Carle and Where The Wild Things Are's Maurice Sendak. Pollard draws the link between their shared trauma and their depictions of hunger on the page. Judith Kerr always rejected the idea that the titular tiger represented Hitler. She pointed out that Sophie hugs the tiger and that 'one would never snuggle the Gestapo, even subconsciously'. Sometimes a tiger really is just a tiger.
In the case of Eric Carle though, I do now find myself reading his books differently. There is such agony in the fact that he had a happy early childhood in America before his homesick mother moved the family back to Germany just in time for the outbreak of war. The adult Carle fought bitterly with his publisher over the stomachache scene in Caterpillar as he hated the idea of a character being punished for having been hungry. Even years afterwards he felt that including it compromised the book. Reading this in 2020 in the wake of public debate over child hunger, it feels like another example of hunger being shameful. The page makes me uncomfortable. The caterpillar was hungry. He ate. He deserved no retribution.
Fierce Bad Rabbits is one of those glorious books that unearths something startling on every single page. So many authors of children's picture books appear to have a background in trauma. Martin Waddell survived a harrowing incident in the Troubles. Shirley Hughes endured childhood bereavement and early poverty. Julia Donaldson lost a son. It is so easy to be dismissive of the picture book. While it is the portal that we pass through on our journey to wards reading, it is also a form that many of us are encouraged to leave behind. I was around seven when my mother told me that she would buy me no more picture books and when I tried to check some out from the library, I was again advised that I should be reading things that were more grown up. It's hard to really place blame here; I was a budding book fiend with an insatiable desire for more and more things to read and priorities had to be struck. But the picture book is not 'lesser'. Telling a complete story in just a few pages and partnering both image and word is no mean feat.
I always enjoy the picture books where the illustration mocks the printed word. In Mog and the Baby, the words say that Mog loves babies but we see the cat's aghast expression and recognise this as a lie. One of the many fabulous things about Judith Kerr is that she geared her books towards budding readers and never included words where the picture had already done the job. One of the difficulties for the parent reader though is knowing how to engage with this. In the Meg and Mog books, there is often so much happening at once, how do I convey the chaos to my son? Pollard comments on her own struggle to convey the silences in Where the Wild Things Are with three double pages featuring Max's adventures as monarch of the Wild Things. Do you whoop? Describe what is happening? I think there is no single correct answer.
As I often do with bibliomemoirs, I found myself nodding along enthusiastically to a number of Pollard's picture book peeves. I am similarly ambivalent about the recent fashion for bookish merchandising. I understand her thought that child would surely form a bond more easily with an anonymous stuffed cat rather than a branded 'Mog' one. But yet my son loves our giant Moomintroll and is always excited to play 'match' with his snuggly 'Little Nutbrown Hare' when we read Guess How Much I Love You.
One point that had me punching the air though was on the gender divides in picture books. During my abbreviated teaching career, I was appalled by how picture books seemed to have been dumbed down into princess books for girls and vomit and excrement related books for boys. As I navigate the challenges of being mother to a male child, his reading has been an area of particular interest to me. I don't want to pick books for him just because I liked them but surely it is patronising to assume him incapable of enjoying books that don't centre around the contents of a toilet? I was intrigued by Pollard's theory that yuk-themed books represent the patriarchy encouraging male children to turn against the female maternal body. I have a nasty feeling that she is on to something - there is a lot of this out there. Yet by shouting 'poopypants' loudly and repeatedly, it only serves to confirm to boys that they are otherwise supposed to find reading dull. It's not about being prudish because there are clever picture books about excrement. The Mole Who Knew It Was None Of His Business is an excellent example. But the vast, overwhelming majority are devoid of any real imagination and mindless rubbish is never going to make a child connect with the magic of reading.
Fierce Bad Rabbits is a rallying call for the the picture book and a timely one at that. Increasingly we see the rise and rise of celebrity children's authors, particularly in the illustrated section. In Fierce Bad Rabbits, Pollard reminds us of the particular power of the books that we read first. These are not stories that just anyone could conjure up given an illustrator sidekick. And indeed, while it might seem simple enough to gather together anecdotes about picture books, what Pollard has achieved here is something quite spectacular. She is a poet and in her hands, we soar to new heights and through our reading we travel in time. The book's closing lines made me cry 'The milk is poured; we snuggle on the bed. I am forty and I am four. As I read the story to my children, my father reads the story to me again, and yes, we are lucky'.
Buy this for all the bibliophiles in your life. They will thank you.
January 10, 2020
This is a lovely book and reading it was like wandering down memory lane. The back stories about the authors were interesting too. It has made me look at picture books differently.
May 22, 2021
An insightful and thoroughly well written book which delves into some of the profound issues behind much loved children's books as well as detailed accounts of their origins and authors.
I have read and shared so many of the books mentioned and certainly knowledges a fair amount of stereotyping in some of the books, but Clare Poland highlights the importance of the books we choose on the values we teach our children when "society does not place enough value on children, women, home, care, patience or poetry. It is also because society refuses to accept responsibility for the adults it makes." Choose wisely.
I have read and shared so many of the books mentioned and certainly knowledges a fair amount of stereotyping in some of the books, but Clare Poland highlights the importance of the books we choose on the values we teach our children when "society does not place enough value on children, women, home, care, patience or poetry. It is also because society refuses to accept responsibility for the adults it makes." Choose wisely.
April 29, 2021
Coming from a home that, when I was a child, had no books in it whatsoever apart from the odd Beano or Rupert Annual, I loved this. Part survey of children’s picture books from Victorian times to date, part child psychology and a big chunk of autobiography, this is a very interesting and at times moving book. I came to reading for pleasure late (after passing O level Literature having read just the set books), and only started to read children’s books as an adult. I read bedtime stories to my own children, but they are all adults themselves now. All this means that many of the books covered by Pollard have passed me by, but her enthusiasm and lovely writing meant that it made no difference to my enjoyment of her book.
My daughter and best book buddy saw this and thought it was ‘me’. The fact that ‘The Tale of a Fierce Bad Rabbit’ was the fist children’s book I ever read at 21 meant that it was a must buy! A real treat!
My daughter and best book buddy saw this and thought it was ‘me’. The fact that ‘The Tale of a Fierce Bad Rabbit’ was the fist children’s book I ever read at 21 meant that it was a must buy! A real treat!
October 8, 2019
The picture book business is a bunny-eat-bunny world, according to Clare Pollard. In her entertaining history, we learn that Beatrix Potter boiled the flesh off her dead pets so she could study their bones. That Maurice Sendak said all Dr. Seuss's drawings looked like bowel movements. Matching Sendak in viciousness, Alison Uttley described Beatrix Potter as rude and old, and Enid Blyton as "a vulgar curled woman." She in turn earned the soubriquet "the Pied Blighter." That Anthony Browne got bitten to the bone on meeting his first gorilla. That Babar, alas, is an Imperialist fable. Fierce Bad Rabbits indeed. A wonderful read.
September 22, 2019
A ten star book!!! A must for any book lover who has ever fallen in love with reading thanks to a wonderful picture book.
Treat yourself and take a walk down memory lane with Clare Pollard, but be prepared for the real world to break in again and again and again. Authors of great picture books are real people with triumph and tragedy hidden sometimes even in their stories .
Treat yourself and take a walk down memory lane with Clare Pollard, but be prepared for the real world to break in again and again and again. Authors of great picture books are real people with triumph and tragedy hidden sometimes even in their stories .
February 17, 2025
I got this in Charing Cross Road at the same place I got the Malory criticism so maybe that really is a spot for libromancy. This book is a new favorite, is fantastic, is perfect, is highly recommended, and highly entertaining. Waxing on children's books is a popular topic once in a while, and while Pollard's British canon is different than my American one (and I ran the children's section for five years so I know the American canon), reading about the ones I didn't know and didn't bother looking up because I was more interested in Clare's language than going for a YouTube readaloud of the ones my library didn't have, breaking down the tormented stories of geniuses is always a fun game and the scandal and politics and history and shock and Garth Williams of it all is worth digging into. We start with the history of books for children, which started to fluff itself out sometime between the advent of publishing and cheap publishing. Books with prizes inside even turned up in the 18th century, even though the prize was a crap pincushion of good and naughty behaviour, but at least it didn't make noise. The combination of books and pictures and Kate Greenaway, who was apparently and I had no idea, writing for a perverted late-in-life John Ruskin rather than an audience of parents and children, brought things together more, and so did the people who invented cloth books and board books around the same time because children are irresponsible. And then the really great children's books, and the ones who we know their authors because they're on the front of our beloved stories in huge letters, started, and Pollard has stories about Maurice Sendak's mother screaming at him to eat his soup because his cousins died in the Holocaust, and also that Night Kitchen controversy which Pollard doesn't quite understand because she's not American, and naked child is not sending her into moral fits, and Ezra Jack Keats' weird state of life where he is either not known or known for being not Black, but The Snowy Day is iconic and groundbreaking, and there are so many stories, and the British really like Bob Graham, and Pollard only bothers to wrestle with Dr. Seuss a bit because he's less of thing in Britain, and Julia Donaldson is more known in Britain because The Gruffalo, but Pollard's daughter loves Stick Man, which is maybe the story of Donaldson's dead, schizophrenic son and that is children's books up until slightly pre-pandemic, but they're not books anymore, they're intellectual properties to generate profit and what is the fate of us? Clare Pollard's writing is punchy, funny, and elegant. I love her. I guess she's a poet. Worth looking into. I love this book.
Want to read
May 29, 2021I need to remember when I read this that the anecdote about Eric Carle arguing with his publisher over The Very Hungry Caterpillar is not accurate and was taken from a parody "interview."
September 1, 2019
I loved this book - reminded me of so many favourites I’ve shared with my children and grandchild- and children I’ve taught over the years. I’m looking forward to re-reading some too. Highly recommend this to anyone with an interest in children’s literature.
October 22, 2020
The first thing that stood out to me was the title on the spine of this book, it immediately made me think of Beatrix Potter and her Fierce Bad Rabbit. When I removed it from the shelf I noticed the rest of the cover, that it was about children’s picture books. What is not to like about children’s picture books, no matter what age you are? When I started to read it and the author mentioned her love of Hilda Boswell’s Treasury of Poetry I knew that I had chosen to read a book that I would find most enjoyable.
March 29, 2023
Interesting, well-written and sometimes invigoratingly angry look at children's books.
August 19, 2019
Fascinating and beautifully written.
November 18, 2019
This is the most thoroughly enjoyable, fascinating and life-affirming book I have read for a long time. An enlightening and informative tour through the history and development of children’s picture books, it combines personal experience, child psychology, cultural history and anecdote in just the right combination. I have to confess that the subject matter was a must for me as I spent many years of my life working with children’s books and had always thought that picture books in particular were one of the unsung glories of the UK’s cultural life. Fierce Bad Rabbits takes a wider view, but nevertheless triumphantly supports that argument. A treat for parents, grown ups who still remember the experience of sharing books with a parent, and anyone interested in books and publishing from whatever angle.
March 11, 2020
A glorious book: part history, part memoir, part academic essay, part polemic for why picture books are so important. Pollard is a wonderful writer - to the extent that you can almost hear her talking to you, guiding you through centuries of writers and ideas - and manages to delicately negotiate through well loved classics whilst also showing you new ways to think about them. She's also very funny and able to drop a huge amount of interesting facts without ever showing off. A wonderful book, a celebration but also an attempt to take the form seriously as an art. As someone who's basically dreamed of doing Picture Books for years it's made me even more determined. Shame there's no mention of the very greatest picture book of all time, The Story of Horace by Alice M Coats but maybe for the second edition?
March 19, 2021
10/10 Best book I’ve read this year.
In it, Pollard talks about the stories behind popular children’s picture books and in light of this, offers new readings of them. I particularly liked the segments on the Mr Men books, The Lorax and Not Now Bernard, all so much darker than I remember them being. The books are grouped thematically (there are sections on sausages and poo for instance) in order to unpick why these books are so formative to us and what their role is. I am in awe of how much research Pollard draws on and her amazing witty yet sentimental writing style which seamlessly brings everything together, gahh I could go on and on.
Off to re-read all my old children's books..
In it, Pollard talks about the stories behind popular children’s picture books and in light of this, offers new readings of them. I particularly liked the segments on the Mr Men books, The Lorax and Not Now Bernard, all so much darker than I remember them being. The books are grouped thematically (there are sections on sausages and poo for instance) in order to unpick why these books are so formative to us and what their role is. I am in awe of how much research Pollard draws on and her amazing witty yet sentimental writing style which seamlessly brings everything together, gahh I could go on and on.
Off to re-read all my old children's books..
January 8, 2021
Not for me. Reads more like a thesis around themes across a number of books. I also didn't enjoy the autobiographical bits.
August 3, 2022
I love books about books, and books about children's books are going to raise a special sort of nostalgia. Memories of not only my own childhood, but also my children's. With my first grandchild born this year there's a budding future of sharing more of these delights.
Clare Pollard is a terrific writer in her own right, I'm really looking forward to reading her novel Delphi released in the past couple of days.
She's complied a fascinating mix of memoir, biography and history of children's picture books.
Fierce Bad Rabbit has started me down a youtube mix of listening to people reading the books I'm less familiar with and learning more about those authors.
The main concentration is on English and American books with a token couple of others thrown in. Possum Magic by Mem Fox, illustrated by Julie Vivasis, is the Australian one that I recognised. Malala Yousafzai's Malala's Magic Pencil is another notable exception.
Clare Pollard is a terrific writer in her own right, I'm really looking forward to reading her novel Delphi released in the past couple of days.
She's complied a fascinating mix of memoir, biography and history of children's picture books.
Fierce Bad Rabbit has started me down a youtube mix of listening to people reading the books I'm less familiar with and learning more about those authors.
The main concentration is on English and American books with a token couple of others thrown in. Possum Magic by Mem Fox, illustrated by Julie Vivasis, is the Australian one that I recognised. Malala Yousafzai's Malala's Magic Pencil is another notable exception.
May 24, 2021
A non-fiction book about children's books, I had not expected to like it as much as I did. It started by talking about a poetry book that I immediately recognised and had kept from my childhood. I hunted it out to look again at the poem Pollard referred to as I had quite a keen memory of it. I enjoyed the memories of the books from my own childhood but also the lovely memories of reading books to my children and discovering books that I thought they would love. It resulted in a long discussion with my daughter, now 27, about the books she remembered most.
There were some books that Pollard was critical of and there was a point when she was complaining about books with lots of toilet humour when I became concerned that this included one of my favourite books "The mole who knew it was none of his business" but thankfully she made this one of her two exceptions.
Pollard's own children are young so she was mentioning books that I am not familiar with but it made me want to have a look at them.
The other aspect of the book I enjoyed was that she added little bits of biographical information about familiar authors that I did not know about.
There were some books that Pollard was critical of and there was a point when she was complaining about books with lots of toilet humour when I became concerned that this included one of my favourite books "The mole who knew it was none of his business" but thankfully she made this one of her two exceptions.
Pollard's own children are young so she was mentioning books that I am not familiar with but it made me want to have a look at them.
The other aspect of the book I enjoyed was that she added little bits of biographical information about familiar authors that I did not know about.
January 8, 2020
As a kindergarten teacher, this book is an ode to all the book I loved as a child and now as a teacher, with some new titles as well! I loved hearing the stories behind some best loved books, such as Where the Wild Things Are and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Pollard weaves in her own experiences of reading with her children as well memories of being read to as a child. Overall an excellent read for anyone who loves children's literature.
Quotes:
When we are small, the stories adults tell us shape our world, our selves, our memories. The stories they choose to tell about our childhood, in a way, become our childhood.
I wanted to be free but I kept biting my tongue. It occurred to me that this is what adulthood is.
Yet we often fail to teach our children that 'good' is not something we are but something we do.
When you love a small child, for a little while at least, their joy can be entirely within your gift... happy endings cost a few pence, are two-a-penny
Quotes:
When we are small, the stories adults tell us shape our world, our selves, our memories. The stories they choose to tell about our childhood, in a way, become our childhood.
I wanted to be free but I kept biting my tongue. It occurred to me that this is what adulthood is.
Yet we often fail to teach our children that 'good' is not something we are but something we do.
When you love a small child, for a little while at least, their joy can be entirely within your gift... happy endings cost a few pence, are two-a-penny
January 16, 2020
täitsa okei raamat, kui selline nišiteema nagu ingliskeelse maailma tuntuimad pildiraamatud peaks huvi pakkuma :) natuke nagu Lucy Mangani "Bookworm," aga kitsama skoobiga. raamjutustuseks on mälestused autori enda lapsepõlvest ja ettelugemiskogemustest emana; selle kaudu läbitakse pildiraamatute ajalugu ja tähtteosed, räägitakse natuke iga autori (nii kirjanike kui illustraatorite) elust ja teoste loomise taustast.
üllatavalt palju traagikat tuleb sealt välja, suurem osa tähtsamaid autoreid on kas ise tohutuid lapse- ja noorpõlvetraumasid üle elanud (sõja ajal kasvanud, evakueeritud, ise väga noorelt armeesse sattunud, põgenikud...) või neid oma lastele tekitanud (teadagi, Chritopher Robini kuulsusele ohverdatud lapsepõlv ja veel mõned sedasorti näited). selgub nt, et Enid Blyton oli totaalne rongaema, kes oleks arvanud!
igatahes oli vahepeal liigutav ja suures osas mõtlemapanev ja tõenäoliselt unustan ma suure osa sellest kõigest üsna pea, aga tore oli teada saada ikka :)
üllatavalt palju traagikat tuleb sealt välja, suurem osa tähtsamaid autoreid on kas ise tohutuid lapse- ja noorpõlvetraumasid üle elanud (sõja ajal kasvanud, evakueeritud, ise väga noorelt armeesse sattunud, põgenikud...) või neid oma lastele tekitanud (teadagi, Chritopher Robini kuulsusele ohverdatud lapsepõlv ja veel mõned sedasorti näited). selgub nt, et Enid Blyton oli totaalne rongaema, kes oleks arvanud!
igatahes oli vahepeal liigutav ja suures osas mõtlemapanev ja tõenäoliselt unustan ma suure osa sellest kõigest üsna pea, aga tore oli teada saada ikka :)
June 21, 2020
I don't often review books, at least only the dire ones!
However this book is far from dire, it's an exquisite telling of the tales behind the books of our childhood, some familiar and some unfamiliar. I chose to buy it with my audible credit for the month and listen to it on Father's Day, my first Father's Day since my Dad died earlier this year. It was an emotional read and I will confess there were a few tears along the way but that was a reflection on the day and not on the book. I doubt I could have chosen a better book to listen to today of all days and yet it was a book I hadn't heard of before yesterday. Normally I read books on my kindle rather than listen to audio books but I actually think this book is better on audio than it would have been if I'd read it, the author's own voices adds something to the experience and what better book to be read to you than one about books which are written to be read out loud.
Everybody should buy and listen to this book.
However this book is far from dire, it's an exquisite telling of the tales behind the books of our childhood, some familiar and some unfamiliar. I chose to buy it with my audible credit for the month and listen to it on Father's Day, my first Father's Day since my Dad died earlier this year. It was an emotional read and I will confess there were a few tears along the way but that was a reflection on the day and not on the book. I doubt I could have chosen a better book to listen to today of all days and yet it was a book I hadn't heard of before yesterday. Normally I read books on my kindle rather than listen to audio books but I actually think this book is better on audio than it would have been if I'd read it, the author's own voices adds something to the experience and what better book to be read to you than one about books which are written to be read out loud.
Everybody should buy and listen to this book.
June 2, 2020
Can I give this ten stars?! Fifty?! This is an incredible book. I myself have never lost my love for the books of my childhood, never. One of the things I was most excited about when I was pregnant with my first child was that I was going to get to read a whole bunch of children’s books again. I was reading Hairy Maclary with my son the day we came home from the hospital. This book is an absolute joy, a celebration of children’s literature and full to the brim with interesting facts and tidbits. I have always wondered what The Tiger Who Came To Tea was about for example, and here all that wonder is, in a beautiful, clever book. I wanted to turn back to the front cover and read this again after I finished it but alas it must go back to the library, so I am going to go and buy a copy, today! Wonderful book, I want to give Clare Pollard a hug. A new favourite.
July 21, 2023
I didn’t like this book at all, the second star is simply because in some passages the quality of writing is quite good . Pollard sees everything through a political post-modern lens of power struggle, gender struggle, control and other woke ideologies, it ends up sounding like a race and gender studies lecture. Her attitude to motherhood lacks the delight of self giving which most mothers experience, even breastfeeding a newborn is depicted in the child’s control over the mother. Needlessly gossipy in details about the various authors private lives which are completely unrelated to their work and oftentimes syrupy in her prose, I feel the book is choking. I had posted it on my book page before reading it but will be posting a caveat and deleting my recommendation.
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