Doing My Best to Make Good Kids’ Books

Responding the Mac Barnett's book, Make Believe

Wow! Mac Barnett, National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, has stirred up a fuss! I’m reading his book, Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children, because the brouhaha online this week is all about one quote taken out of context.

Barnett quotes a science fiction writer, Theodore Sturgeon, who was tired of his chosen genre being belittled and decided to write what’s known as Sturgeon’s Law:

90% of everything is crud.

Corollary 1: 90% of science fiction is crud and this is normal.

Corollary 2: The best science fiction is as good as the best fiction in any field.

Barnett extrapolates that to children’s literature in the now famous Barnett Addendum to Sturgeon’s Law:

“Maybe more like 94.7 percent of kids’ books are crud.” (p. 19, Kindle version)

When I read this as a children’s book author, it’s depressing. Maybe it is normal that 90% of everything is crud, but what good does that do me when I sit down to write?

Barnett’s Arguments

Throughout his book, Barnett is arguing two things. First, the audience of kids is often misunderstood, ignored, or exploited. On that, I could agree. There are books which bash kids with politeness, tell them tone-deaf stories about events that bore kids, and tell sensational stories just to make a buck.

His second argument is that some books represent art, crossing into the exotic realm of literature. Those are the books that Barnett would say respect the unique position and inner life of kids.

But, he says, most books “…fail to provide any kind of real literary experience for children.” (p. 21, Kindle version)

The statement argues that Art with a capital A should be the goal of children’s literature. I disagree. It is only one possible goal for children’s literature.

Children’s Literature is Inclusive

One book that has repeatedly spoken into my writing career is Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (And Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland. They address the idea of Art with a capital A, but instead of looking at the work, they focus on the Artist. Or, in our case, the children’s book author.

“’Artist’ [children’s book author] has gradually become a form of identity which (as every artist [children’s book author] knows) often carries with it as many drawbacks as benefits. Consider that if artist [children’s book author] equals self, then when (inevitably) you make flawed art, you are a flawed person, and when (worse yet) you make no art, you are no person at all! It seems far healthier to sidestep that vicious spiral by accepting many paths to successful artmaking—from reclusive to flamboyant, intuitive to intellectual, folk art to fine art. One of those is your path. (p. 7-8, Kindle version)

In other words, when Barnett says that only Art can become children’s literature, I reject that statement. His aesthetics may or may not create literature, just as mine may or may not create children’s literature. Certainly, his idea that Art is the goal is not helpful for me as a children’s book author. It doesn’t speak to my reality.

When Bayles and Orland say, “…when (inevitably) you make flawed art…”, they understand that the art making process is hard. Indeed, they help me understand that it is my (inevitable) flaws and mistakes that make it my art. As they say, “Art is made by ordinary people…The flawless creature wouldn’t need to make art.”

I understand that Barnett is talking to a wider audience about the necessity of considering the audience of children’s literature and bringing respect to the stories we tell. But I reject his criteria for deciding what constitutes Art and therefore, children’s literature. For me, the criteria is much more inclusive.

And for my writing career, his comments leave me stranded, with no way forward. There’s no way I can create Art with a capital A, because I’m a flawed creature. I know that every time I put a word onto a page.

With apologies to Bayles and Orland, this rewording helps me face the next story that I plan to write for kids:

It seems far healthier to sidestep that vicious spiral of narrowly defining children’s literature by accepting many paths to successful storytelling—from reclusive to flamboyant, intuitive to intellectual, folk art to fine art.

Barnett has written a book about children’s literature that expounds a certain viewpoint. He’s grasping for a higher standard for children’s literature, and I applaud that. But as a children’s book author, his emphasis on Art as children’s literature leaves me cold and unable to write. People complain about the surge in children’s books and suggest that the answer is fewer books. Instead, I think we need to accept the many paths to successful storytelling and find the ones that resonate with the kids we encounter.

What if Barnett got it all wrong?

What if children are a great audience for storytelling—from reclusive to flamboyant, intuitive to intellectual, folk art to fine art?

“Well, then we’d better do our best to make some good kids’ books.”(Mac Barnett, 2026 National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature)