An Owl with Quaker Values

Last year, while browsing in a comic shop, I came upon a delightful collection titled Owly: Tiny Tales by Andy Runton. The cover featured a cartoon owl with enormous eyes in an armchair, reading a book for a gathering of forest critters, all wearing gleeful expressions on their faces.

Curious, I flipped through a few pages, and found it to be both child-friendly in content, but more interestingly, wordless. The characters communicated through a series of symbols, exclamation points and question marks, as well as lightbulbs to express having an idea and horseshoes to say "Good luck!" As a teaching artist who values visual literacy and parent of two pre-readers, I was pleased with my discovery. I purchased it while imagining my daughters learning to read symbols and also having a book they could "read" all on their own.

Later, I realized it had even greater value.

Owly: Tiny Tales (you can read an excerpt on Andy Runton's website) is a collection of short stories told in classic comic format. The first story was "Splashin' Around." On a blazing hot, summer day, Owly and his best friend Wormy go to water a drooping flower and find that their watering can has a hole in it. They take it to the Nursery where Raccoon patches it up, but not before they notice a flock of birds joyfully playing in a puddle that has formed under the can. Racoon tells the pair about a contest to build the best bird bath. Owly and Wormy decide to enter. They bounce their ideas back and forth and come up with a bird bath that is a large bowl of water attached to a potted tree, because birds love both water and trees. Their birdbath isn't the most aesthetically pleasing design, and they become worried when they see a much larger, fancier, shinier birdbath in the competition. Nevertheless, they wish their competitors good luck. Even though the judges all express approval with the reasoning behind Owly and Wormy's tree birdbath, the first prize is still awarded to the fancier entry. Owly and Wormy eyes fill with tears and they mope all evening. But the next morning, Raccoon shows up at their door with news of a happy surprise. They rush back to the nursery to joyfully discover that the birds prefer their birdbath.

I'm not ashamed to admit that my own eyes teared up a bit when I read this story. Most children's stories in books, shows, and movies fail to achieve this level of just sheer goodness, even when, and maybe especially when they are trying to teach morals, ethics, and values to kids.

In NutureShock, chapter 9: "Plays Well With Others", journalists Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman report on studies into children's entertainment. Dr. Jamie Ostrov and Dr. Douglas Gentile ran repeated studies, trying to find out if watching violent shows such as Power Rangers made children more anti-social, and conversely, if watching "educational" shows such as Clifford and Arthur would make children more pro-social. The results were surprising:

More exposure to violent media did increase the rate of physical aggression shown at school -- however, it did so only modestly. In fact, watching educational television also increased the rate of physical aggression, almost as much as watching violent TV. And just like in the Minnesota study, educational television had a dramatic effect on relational aggression. The more the kids watched, the crueler they'd be to their classmates. This correlation was 2.5 times higher than the correlation between violent media and physical aggression.
    Essentially, Ostrov had just found that Arthur is more dangerous for children than Power Rangers. 

Ostrov was quoted saying:

"Preschoolers have a difficult time being able to connect information at the end of the show to what happened earlier. It is likely that young children do not attend to the overall 'lesson' in the manner an older child or adult can, but instead learn from each of the behaviors shown." 

In other words, when preschoolers watch fictional bullies, they learn about the social advantages that motivate bullying behavior.

This is why Owly is so refreshing. "Splashin' Around" was a narrative that didn't resort to anyone being cruel or selfish in order to create conflict. Every person honored the dignity of every other person. Some experienced painful emotions, but were able to quietly sit with those feelings without lashing out at others. Resolution was found not in the protagonists getting the showy accolades they sought, but in them receiving a more profound appreciation for their efforts.

One of the first things that struck me about Owly is that his best friend is a worm. One of nature's most vicious and stealthy avian predators paired with a creepy crawly synonymous with bird food! I instantly thought, here is a contemporary version of the Peaceable Kingdom.

The Peaceable Kingdom is a series of 61 paintings by Edward Hicks, inspired by the Biblical passage Isaiah 11: 6-8:

 The wolf will live with the lamb,
    the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling[a] together;
    and a little child will lead them.
 The cow will feed with the bear,
    their young will lie down together,
    and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
 The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
    and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.

(From the New International Version) 

One of Edward Hick's Peaceable Kingdom paintings.

Of course taken literally by anyone deeply acquainted with biological science, the passage seems absurd. But I (and most Christian theologians) would argue that taking the passage literally is absurd. Certainly Hicks, a Quaker, didn't take it literally. This passage is far more interesting and indeed inspiring when interpreted symbolically. Quakers such as Hicks believe the "inner light", or that which is of God, is part of every human being. Learning to think and live the right way allows people to tap into the divine, and thus salvation.

To me, a secular humanist, this passage and Hick's fanciful imagery represents the human animal striving to create conditions that bring out that which is most noble about our species.

I taught art for two years at a PreK-8th grade Friends (Quaker) school, and reading Owly stories, I constantly find parallels between his fictional world and the ideals expressed in the Quaker Testimonies.

Quakers worship in silence, only speaking if moved by the "inner light." Referring to the testimony of Silent Reflection as a "habit of mind", the American Friends Service Committee writes:

...silence is often used to settle into a meeting, to invite reflection, or to allow time for the synthesis of ideas. Silence refreshes the spirit and makes way for deep thinking about both ethical and intellectual quandaries.

There is a lot of silence in Owly stories, not only because of the absence of true dialogue. Almost every tale begins with a framed panoramic view of the larger setting. Owly and his friends are often seen eating in silence, awake in bed thinking, quietly assessing their surroundings, setting up, building, or just sitting quietly. All of these moments compel a deeper appreciation for simply being alive and self aware.

The testimony of Simplicity is often expressed. The winning bird bath was rather ostentatious, but in the end the birds preferred Owly and Wormy's more simple design. In the story "Helping Hands", the rabbit drops and breaks a fancy potted plant she has purchased as a gift for her grandfather. Owly and Wormy help her create a new pot with handmade decorations. The rabbit worries that her grandfather will be disappointed by her handmade gift, but after she sheepishly explains what happened, he declares the handmade pot to be better than a whole bunch of fancy store bought ones.

Many associate Quakers with the testimony of Peace, due to their long history of organized war protest and conscientious objection to military service. Violence, both physical and verbal, is so prevalent in popular children's literature and entertainment that it is taken for granted. But in Quaker schools and homes, it is common to ban even toy weapons. At the school where I taught, children were prohibited from excluding others from games. Out of the 12 stories in Tiny Tales, none involve physical violence, and only 2 include the violence of harsh words or aggressive behavior. In both of those, the conflict was resolved through changes in circumstance, kindness, or cooperation, opposed to the "good guys" responding with their own threats.

Another testimony is Stewardship, or reference for nature and conservation of natural resources. The characters in Owly are constantly outdoors, planting and caring for plants and feeding wildlife. Racoon's nursery is is an essential part of many stories. An appreciate for nature has been part of Owly's world from the beginning. In the back of Tiny Tales, Runton writes:

When I was trying to come up with a comic book idea, I tried dragons, aliens, ninjas... but nothing worked. Then one day, I looked closer at my little owl. And I drew this... It kinda summed up what I felt. I wanted to draw comics about this little owl. But I was afraid to be myself. 

Note how Owly doesn't pick the flower. He simply enjoys it, and then draws a picture so as to translate the experience through creative expression and then have a piece of that experience with him in his home.

The best thing about Quaker testimonies is that although they are proscribed by a religious sect, they are ultimately secular and universal to the human experience. It is no surprise for me to discover, in my work at a Quaker school, that many modern-day Quakers, especially on the East Coast, are also atheists and agnostics.

I recently purchased a copy of Owly & Wormy: Friends All Aflutter. This book is a large, hardback, full color 40 page picture book; in other words, an object of value to be cherished. My daughter was thrilled.

The story was in line with the values of the previous volume. In it, Owly and Wormy attempt to attract butterflies with flowers, To their dismay, a couple of caterpillars begin munching away at the plants. Despite their initial upset, Owly and Wormy befriend these invaders and come to prefer their company to the hypothetical butterflies. Soon they are striving to keep the caterpillars comfortable enough to return when they disappear (unbeknownst to Owly and Wormy, the caterpillars never left; they are merely in their chrysalises). Owly's and Wormy's putting kindness and friendship over their desire for superficial beauty is rewarded when their friends emerge, transformed.

Truly these are the values to teach the upcoming generation; the values and actions necessary to live the best life possible, and also build a better world.

May we all learn from the wisdom of owls.

Addendum: On a related note, another stunningly illustrated picture book with owls and which supports the values of nonviolence, quiet contemplation, and appreciation for simplicity and nature is The Happy Owls by Celestino Piatti.

Barbie at the Book Fair

Advertisements masquerading as children's literature.

Barbie showed up at my four-year-old's school Book Fair. She was there in all her blond and blue-eyed, plastic, dead-eyed, all-surface-no-depth glory in the form of five "based on the movie!" board books and two sticker storybooks.

Stickers - they're interactive! (And chocking hazards for half the kids at my daughter's reverse mainstream preschool. Not to mention a cheap gimmick to distract kids from desiring and delving into actual children's literature. But I digress.)

Like many of her friends, my daughter wanted to buy a Barbie book. I observed that they came with plastic toys or stickers and were poorly written and illustrated, so I said no. Instead she picked out Fancy Nancy: Fanciest Doll in the Universe, written by Jane O'Connor and illustrated by Robin Preiss Glasser, and Princess Grace, written by Mary Hoffman and illustrated by Caroline Binch.

THIS is children's literature.

What a difference a professional author and illustrator make! The characters of Nancy and Grace feel like real people with distinct personalities. While Nancy does at first seem to be the typically girlie girl who adores fancy stuff such as tutus and accessories, she's also a quirky designer with her own unique style, and is sometimes clumsy or tacky. She is rather dramatic with both her words and body language, capable of intense anger, but also forgiveness. With the character of Grace, too, the traces of typical girl melt away as we learn what really grabs her interest, and how her ma, nana, teacher, and friends (her daddy moved away and is re-married) influence her views.

These books are stories about the human experience, particularly what is can be for children. How the reader perceives the surface appearances changes as we get to know the personalities and personal dramas of the characters, and that provides a meaningful connection to our understanding of real life, with all its bumps and blemishes.

I don't have serious problems with Barbie as a doll. I don't like the re-enforcement of unrealistic beauty standards, but I must admit that I loved playing with fashion dolls as a kid. Even a child without her own fashion dolls will likely encounter and play with them at a friend's house. Much creativity, social, and intellectual development ensues when children play pretend games with dolls.

But Barbie in books? No. No no no no, a thousand times no.

That goes for LEGO in books, shamelessly stealing attention away from quality children's literature in order to advertise their line of Chima and Ninjago toys. Toys are one thing. Books are another.

That goes for all the books based on animated children's shows and films, such as Disney Princesses, Bubble Guppies, and yes, even Elmo.

I have read enough of this crap to know that the vast majority of it is poorly written and poorly illustrated.

For instance, Barbie the Pearl Princess takes the form of a board book (books marketed to toddlers), but the actual text is far too long-winded for that age group. It reads like a straight-forward synopsis of the movie. The words merely describe the bare facts of what has transpired, and so any personal human experience, character development, building of suspense, impact during climax, or emotional satisfaction found in the resolution of conflict, is dulled.

The illustrations are equally awful. Don't get me wrong - they are pretty. Glossy, brightly-colored, slick and shiny. But in every image the characters appear as if posing for a movie poster, rather than behaving naturally. Every page made me think of the cover of a fantasy novel, but with a plastic fashion doll used as the model.

Worse yet, the pictures had only the most superficial connection to the text. For instance, on one page of Barbie the Pearl Princess, the words tell us Caligo had "spies everywhere." This is a perfect opportunity for the illustrator to show the dangers in Lumina's midst, but instead we're shown just another pretty picture of Lumina as a child playing with her adopted mother. The problem is that an hour-long film is being crammed into a 24 page picture book. Countless great story-telling opportunities are sacrificed for the sake of forcing something that doesn't really work to work.

THIS is also children's literature

In a good picture book, words and pictures also interact and compliment each other. Words tells us that Fancy Nancy's little sister JoJo is "a handful, which is a nice way of saying really naughty", while the illustration shows JoJo dressed as a cop in a menacing stance, tying her playmate to a tree. Words tell us that Grace has decided to be an African princess wearing a dress made by her nana out of Kente cloth, while the illustration shows us how regal and unique she appears on the float.

In books based on toys, shows, and movies, oftentimes no author or illustrator is even listed on the cover. Indeed, why would they be? These books are not the brainchild of any artist and/or creative writer. These books are an assignment for commercial writers and illustrators. They are in every meaningful way advertisements that merely take the form of a child's picture book.

To quote a poignant scene from the satirical show Futurama, where the character Fry discovers that in the future commercials are broadcast right into people's dreams.

Fry: That's awful. It's like brainwashing. 

Leela: Didn't you have ads in the 20th century? 

Fry: Well, sure, but not in our dreams. Only on TV and radio. And in magazines and movies and at ball games, on buses and milk cartons and T-shirts and bananas and written on the sky. But not in dreams. No, sir-ee!

Call me a snobby bibliophile, but books for kids should be off limits. Or at least the ones being sold at book fairs in schools should be off limits. Children's literacy is too important to turn their books into advertisements for cheap, plastic crap.

We let this happen, and we will become a society of anti-intellectual dupes who run out and buy every piece of shiny shit dangled in front of our eyes, oblivious to the harm all this junk is doing to our intellect, our aesthetic senses, our emotional experiences, not to mention our budgets.

But maybe it's too late. To quote one of the many 5 star reviews of Barbie the Pearl Princess:

My daughter may be 8yr old but she loves her Barbie books! This was easy for her to read and the story is always a learning tale. I love the happy endings. Gives a girl something to dream of herself. :) Thanks for always giving my girl something to dream about. :)

See, advertisers don't need to develop any futuristic technology to broadcast their cheap, plastic crap into our dreams. They already found a way in.

On Minority Children Underrepresented

Over ten years ago I briefly worked at a Barnes and Noble. The following encounter was part of why I kept my employment brief.

A youngish woman, maybe in her 30's, blonde, well-dressed, brought a small stack of books to checkout. As I entered the first couple into the register, she leafed through one of her selections - one of those Anne Geddes books filled with syrupy sweet photographs of babies dressed up as angels, flowers, and butterflies. The customer turned another page, halted, and blurted out, "I need to go back. I grabbed the wrong book. I wanted the one with white babies."

My eyes widened a bit. I glanced at the book in her hands, and seeing that it clearly featured a multiracial array of adorable newborns, couldn't help but respond, "But that book does have white babies. It has all different colored babies."

She huffed and (clearly annoyed with my political correctness) said, "Well I'm having a white baby, and I want the book with just white babies."

Apparently she could identify her baby with total stranger babies, regardless of those stranger babies' varying hair thickness, shade, or length, eye color, and unique facial features, so long as those babies were the same race as her baby.

I thought, what a racist dipshit. 

Wait a minute... apparently ten years ago this customer was able to pull two different books by the same photographer, same publisher, and of the same subject, but one featured multiracial models, and the other featured all (or at least mostly) white models. Did the publishing company orchestrate this on purpose in order to sell to the widest audience (in other words, to cater to this racist dipshit?)

It wouldn't surprise me. In high school I had a friend whose mother flew into a rage after seeing a commercial for a new sitcom which featured a black family. She felt there was already more than enough minority representation on television and movies (ha!)

Whatever one might say about Anne Geddes's work (that it's beautiful or disgusting, touching or shallow) it seems clear to me that her models' skin color is first and foremost an aesthetic consideration. In her color photography, each baby's skin tone is impeccably coordinated to harmonize with all the colors surrounding him or her.

The speculative symbolism here is just disturbing.

I keep reading that Geddes prefers black and white photography, and looking at her black and white work of babies, I see that it is there that she can play most with the contrast of dark and light skinned models. In fact I think the only reason she pairs black and white models together in photographs is because she enjoys the look of such contrast (opposed to any attempt at meaningful social commentary.)

I found this odd photograph of a giant white hand holding a miniature black baby on Anne-Marie Ross's Pinterest album I got the creeps from Anne Geddes. Ms. Ross adds the sarcastic caption:

Giant white hand and minuscule black baby. Racism is cured now.

And now the black angel baby grew up and had
his own white baby? Er, maybe in this fictional world
created by  Geddes, skin complexion skips every other
generation. And there's some chromosomal reason
why the dark-skinned generations also have wings.

I can't help but agree with critics of Geddes's work who argue that because commercial appeal is prioritized, the images are often dehumanizing. Geddes uses models' skin color as nothing more than a formal element, incorporates changes in scale as superficial novelty, and includes symbols loaded with cultural meaning as mere props. She thereby dismisses meaningful discourse about race, ethnicity, or social identity. I can't help but feel it propagates the myth (and false ideal) of colorblindness.

We are not colorblind. Racial identity is meaningful. Our skin tones are not just another color on a painter's palette.


The myth of colorblindness is why 90% of my daughters' dolls (mostly gifts from white relatives) are white. The black dolls were all purchased by me with the intention of creating some balance. There is one Native American doll which was purchased by a relative because it was cute and on clearance. And there is a Dora doll given as a gift, because Dora the Explorer is one of the few racial minority characters who has managed to break through the glass ceiling of children's entertainment. (Doc McStuffin's seems to be making some serious headway, too, which is nice to see.)

The myth of colorblindness is why this still happens:

Of 3,200 children’s books published in 2013, just 93 were about black people, according to a study by the Cooperative Children’s Book Center at the University of Wisconsin.

My daughter's baby doll collection; way too monochromatic.

I was surprised to read this article today, because in the children's sections of the Free Library of Philadelphia I find many wonderful titles that feature main characters of color as well as minority authors and illustrators. But now that I think about it, I haven't had to look for those books because they are usually prominently displayed in windows and on the tops of bookshelves. Now I realize that the librarians, sensitive to the fact that most of the children who enter Philadelphia's libraries are black, have been deliberately putting those books out there. What a fine example of how libraries perform a public service.

I'm so tired of people who complain about political correctness. Tired of "political correctness" having a bad connotation. Sure, it can be taken to ridiculous extremes, but most often political correctness is simply about tolerance and respect. We need political correctness because we are still battling a war of inequality. Because the racial and ethnic biases in our society are so built in that we must counter them with self awareness.

In her TED talk The Danger of a Single Story, novelist Chimamanda Adichie gives a much more eloquent and persuasive argument as to why our children need to be exposed to diversity in their literature and entertainment.

So find the books that feature minority characters and buy them for your kids, your nieces, your nephews, your friends' kids. Check out the Coretta Scott King Awards. Go to your local library and ask the children's librarian about books by minority authors and illustrators. Be part of creating a market for books, toys, and children's entertainment that better represents our true diversity.

Five Favorite Bedtime Books for Toddlers

At this point it is common knowledge that daily reading to children has many benefits. Like many parents, I include reading in the bedtime ritual (although we do read at other times of the day, too.) Now that my daughter is approaching her 2nd birthday, we've amassed quite a collection of board books, not to mention the ones we've borrowed from the library. I've spent countless hours reading many of the same books over and over again, and I've found there are certain ones that, in addition to being favorites for my daughter, I also don't mind reading for the 100th time. Thus, I present my five favorite bedtime books for toddlers:

1.) Ten, Nine, Eight by Molly Bang

Admittedly, I first bought this book because a black cat is cleverly worked into most of the illustrations, I have such a cat, and my daughter adores cats. But the book has become one of my favorites for many reasons. First the obvious: it's educational, since each consecutive page features a certain number of objects, counting down from ten to one. The scenes are illustrated beautifully, with complex, naturalistic compositions, an array of intricate patterns and textures, and bursting with vivid, complimentary colors. And then, of course, there is the story: a little girl with huge eyes, wearing an oversized, yellow nightgown and clutching an even more oversized white teddy bear, being put to bed by her loving daddy. Melts the heart.

2.) The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton

I love almost all of Sandra Boynton's books for toddlers. They are full of rhythmic rhymes, cute illustrations of animal characters, and lots of good old silliness. Boynton is why my daughter loves hippos. This book features a motley crowd of beasts aboard a cruise ship, preparing for bedtime. They put on jammies, take a bubble bath (all together in one, big tub) and brush their teeth. Even though I've read it at least a hundred times, I'm still amused when all the animals go up on the deck to rigorously exercise in their pajamas! (I guess they like to sleep all sweaty.) In the end, the rocking of the boat on the sea lulls them to sleep. This book balances humor and tranquility, which is perfect for bedtime. It is simply a great book to end the day.

3.) Counting Kisses by Karen Katz

This is one of those books that gets you to do something other than just read the words out loud. Namely, kiss the heck out of your kid. In the story, the baby is crying, and so the entire family (including the dog and cat) take turns placing kisses on various parts of the baby's body, counting down from ten to one. Inevitably, I end up acting out the book as we read. Sometimes my husband has joined in and we take turns kissing our daughter. Sometimes my daughter kisses me or even kisses herself instead of me kissing her. I've also read it to children I babysit, and the children have taken turns kissing each other's noses, ears, and toes. It's not a book I'd read every single night (that would get a bit tedious.) But its super fun to engage in this shower of affection about once a week.

4.) Good Night Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann

This is by far my daughter's favorite bedtime book. For months and months she continues to pull it off the shelf to read over and over again. And for good reason. It's hilarious! There are hardly any words in this book; the story is mostly told playful, colorful illustrations. Basically the gorilla (and his little friend the mouse who drags along a banana on a string) steals the zookeeper's keys and lets out several animals. They all follow the clueless zookeeper back to his house, into his bedroom, and curl up for the night. But the zookeeper's wife gets wise and returns all the animals to the zoo. Except, of course, the crafty gorilla (and his sidekick mouse) who manage to sneak out again and ultimately spend the night in the couple's bed. This book is just a very fun way to develop an understanding of pictorial narrative.

5.) Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd

An oldie, but a goodie. It features simple, repeating rhymes, lots of clearly-communicated vocabulary, and a cute, little bunny getting ready for bed. But what is best about this book is seeing how elements of the room we are in change from page to page. Slowly, the lights dim. Two kitten play in various ways before finally curling up to sleep. The old lady rabbit in the rocking chair disappears. After the stars and even the air, we run out of things to say goodnight to, and enter into soft darkness and silence. What a peaceful way to drift off to sleep.