The link below is to an article that looks at the tools available inside Google Play Books for making reading better for kids.
For more visit:
https://goodereader.com/blog/e-book-news/google-play-books-now-has-new-tools-to-make-reading-easier-for-kids
Margaret Kristin Merga, Edith Cowan University
Parents at a loss to find activities for their children during COVID lockdowns can encourage them to escape into a book. New research shows how reading books can help young people escape from their sources of stress, find role models in characters and develop empathy.
Recent media reports have highlighted a concerning rise in severe emotional distress in young people. Isolation and disruption of learning in lockdown have increased their anxiety. Given the recent surge in COVID-19 cases and lockdowns in Australia, parents and educators may look to connect young people with enjoyable activities that also support both their well-being and learning.
A lot has been written about the role of regular reading in building literacy skills. Now, my findings from a BUPA Foundation-funded research project on school libraries and well-being provide insight into how books and reading can help young people deal with the well-being challenges of the pandemic.
The findings suggest books can not only be a great escape during this challenging time, but also offer further well-being benefits.
We know that adults who are avid readers enjoy being able to escape into their books. Reading for pleasure can reduce psychological distress and has been related to mental well-being.
Reading-based interventions have been used successfully to support children who have experienced trauma. In a recent study, around 60% of young people agreed reading during lockdown helped them to feel better.
My research project confirms young people can use books and reading to escape the pressures of their lives. As one student said:
“If you don’t know what to do, or if you’re sad, or if you’re angry, or whatever the case is, you can just read, and it feels like you’re just escaping the world. And you’re going into the world of the book, and you’re just there.”
If you enjoy reading, there’s a good chance you have favourite characters who hold a place in your heart. The project found young people can find role models in books to look up to and emulate, which can help to build their resilience. A student described her experience reading the autobiography of young Pakistani activist and Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai:
“I thought it was incredible how no matter what happened to her, even after her horrific injury, she just came back and kept fighting for what she believed in.”
Read more:
Nobel Peace Prize: extraordinary Malala a powerful role model
Other research has linked connecting with characters to mental health recovery, partly due to its power to instil hope in the reader. Building relationships with characters in books can also be used as “self-soothing” to decrease anxiety.
Young people also celebrate their affection for book characters in social networking spaces such as TikTok, where they share their enjoyment of the book journey with favourite characters.
Research supports the idea that reading books builds empathy. Reading fiction can improve social cognition, which helps us to connect with others across our lives. My previous work with adult readers found some people read for the pleasure they get from developing insight into other perspectives, to “see the world through other people’s eyes”.
In the project, a student described how reading books helped him to understand others’ perspectives. He explained:
“You get to see in their input, and then you go, ‘Well, actually, they’re not the bad guy. Really, the other guy is, it’s just their point of view makes it seem like the other guy’s the bad guy.’ ”
If parents are not sure what books will best suit their child’s often ever-changing interests and needs, they can get in touch with the teacher librarians at school. Even during lockdown they are usually only an email or a phone call away.
The library managers in the project played an important role in connecting students with books that could lead to enjoyable and positive reading experiences.
For example, a library manager explained that she specifically built her collection to make sure the books provided role model characters for her students. She based her recommendations to students on their interests as well as their needs. To support a student who had a challenging home life, she said,
“I recommend quite a number of books where we’ve got a very strong female character […] in a number of adverse situations and where she navigates her way through those.”
Fostering reading for pleasure is a key part of the role of the teacher librarian. They create spaces and opportunities for students to read in peace. They also encourage them to share recommendations with their peers.
In challenging times, many parents are looking for an activity that supports their children’s well-being. And as reading is also linked to strong literacy benefits, connecting them with books, with the support of their teacher librarian, is a smart way to go.
Margaret Kristin Merga, Honorary Adjunct, University of Newcastle; Senior Lecturer in Education, Edith Cowan University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
The links below are to articles that take a look at how Google has made reading children’s books on Google Play easier.
For more visit:-
https://blog.google/products/google-play/learning-to-read-tools/
– https://www.makeuseof.com/read-google-play-books-easily/
– https://blog.the-ebook-reader.com/2021/03/03/google-adds-new-reading-tools-for-kids-to-play-books-app/
The link below is to an article that lists 10 ways to promote children’s literacy at home.
For more visit:
https://bookriot.com/literacy-at-home/
The link below is to an article that concludes that children read more challenging books while in lockdown.
For more visit:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/apr/29/children-read-longer-more-challenging-books-in-lockdown
Sharon Goldfeld, Murdoch Children’s Research Institute; Hannah Bryson, Murdoch Children’s Research Institute, and Jodie Smith, La Trobe University
Around one in three (36%) Australian children grow up in families experiencing adversity. These include families where parents are unemployed, in financial stress, have relationship difficulties or experience poor mental or physical health.
Our recent study found one in four Australian children experiencing adversity had language difficulties and around one in two had pre-reading difficulties.
Language difficulties can include having a limited vocabulary, struggling to make sentences and finding it hard to understand what is being said. Pre-reading difficulties can include struggling to recognise alphabet letters and difficulties identifying sounds that make up words.
Learning to read is one of the most important skills for children. How easily a child learns to read largely depends on both their early oral language and pre-reading skills. Difficulties in these areas make learning to read more challenging and can affect general academic performance.
International studies show children experiencing adversity are more likely to have language and pre-reading difficulties when they start school.
Language difficulties are usually identified using a standardised language assessment which compares an individual child’s language abilities to a general population of children of the same age.
Pre-reading difficulties are difficulties in the building blocks for learning to read. For example, by the age of five, most children can name at least ten letters and identify the first sound in simple words (e.g. “b” for “ball”).
Children who have not developed these skills by the time they start school are likely to require extra support in learning to read.
We examined the language, pre-reading and non-verbal skills (such as attention and flexible thinking) of 201 five-year-old children experiencing adversity in Victoria and Tasmania.
We defined language difficulties as children having language skills in the lowest 10% compared to a representative population of Australian 5-year-olds. By this definition, we would expect one in ten children to have language difficulties.
But our rates were more than double this — one in four (24.9%) of the children in our sample had language difficulties.
Pre-reading difficulties were even more common: 58.6% of children could not name the expected number of alphabet letters and 43.8% could not identify first sounds in words.
By comparison, an Australian population study of four year olds (children one year younger than in our study) found 21% could not name any alphabet letters.
Again, our rates were more than double this.
Interestingly, we didn’t find these differences for children’s non-verbal skills. This suggests language and pre-literacy skills are particularly vulnerable to adversity.
Read more:
1 in 5 kids start school with health or emotional difficulties that challenge their learning
There are several reasons that could explain this. Early speech and language skills develop through interactions children have with their parents. These interactions can be different in families experiencing adversity, due to challenges such as family stress and having fewer social supports.
Families experiencing adversity may also have fewer resources (including time and books) to invest in their children’s early language and learning.
It is really challenging for children starting school with language and pre-reading skills to catch up to their peers. They need to accelerate their learning to close the gap.
Put into context, if a child starts school six months behind their peers, they will need to make 18 months gain within a year to begin the next school year on par with their peers. This is not achievable for many children, even with extra support, and a tall order for many schools.
Early reading difficulties often continue throughout the primary school years and beyond. Sadly, we also know that the long-term impacts of language and pre-reading difficulties don’t just include poor reading skills, but problems which can carry into adulthood.
These can include struggling academically, difficulties gaining employment, antisocial behaviour and poor well-being.
These results should be concerning for us all. There are clear and extensive social costs that come with early language and pre-reading difficulties, including a higher burden on health and welfare costs and productivity losses.
These impacts are particularly worrying given the significant school disruptions experienced due to the COVID-19 lockdowns. School closures will have substantially reduced children’s access to additional support and learning opportunities, particularly for those experiencing adversity, further inhibiting opportunities to catch up.
Our best bet is to ensure as many children as possible start school with the language and pre-reading skills required to become competent early readers.
For example, ensuring all children have access to books at home has shown promise in supporting early language skills for children experiencing adversity.
We know which children are at greatest risk of struggling with their early language and pre-reading skills. We now need to embed this evidence into existing health and education services, and invest in supports for young children and families to address these unequal outcomes.
Sharon Goldfeld, Director, Center for Community Child Health Royal Children’s Hospital; Professor, Department of Paediatrics, University of Melbourne; Theme Director Population Health, Murdoch Children’s Research Institute; Hannah Bryson, Postdoctoral Researcher, Murdoch Children’s Research Institute, and Jodie Smith, Research Fellow, La Trobe University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Kristin Girten, University of Nebraska Omaha
There’s nothing like being reasoned with by a 4-year-old girl.
“‘Stop it,’ ordered Beezus. ‘Stop it this instant! You can’t eat one bite and then throw the rest away.’
‘But the first bite tastes best,’ explained Ramona reasonably, as she reached into the box again.
Beezus had to admit that Ramona was right. The first bite of an apple always did taste best.”
The author of this scene is Beverly Cleary, who died on March 25, 2021, at the age of 104. The book is “Beezus and Ramona.” Most readers appreciate Ramona’s arguments, admiring the innocence, the free-spiritedness, the insight that inspires her to take a whole carton of apples and indulge in one first bite after another, only ever tasting “the reddest part.”
Many fans love Cleary’s work for a lifetime – first as young children, then as adults. As a mother of twin boys, I have been surprised at how her writing continues to resonate. But what is it that makes Cleary’s characters so enduring?
As a scholar of 18th-century British literature, I recognize the pressure on novelists to teach children through their writing. This expectation was set in the 18th century when it was assumed that the modern novel, newly developed, would teach as well as please. Reading was expected to be, in the words of Horace, both “dulce” (literally sweet, or enjoyable) and “utile” (literally useful, or instructive).
Though readers have, at least since the early 20th century, generally let go of this expectation for authors who write for adults, the expectation persists for those who write for children. With a writing career beginning in the early 1950s, Cleary directly challenged such a notion.
Cleary once told PBS that her fans love Ramona “because she does not learn to be a better girl.” She went on to explain what inspired her to create Ramona’s character: “I was so annoyed with the books in my childhood because children always learned to be better children, and in my experience, they didn’t.”
In fact, Cleary’s Ramona doesn’t just challenge the assumption that readers must learn “from” and “with” fictional characters; one of Ramona’s distinguishing characteristics is rebelliousness.
Take, for example, the time Ramona’s parents are disappointed by her report card:
“‘Now, Ramona.’ Mrs. Quimby’s voice was gentle. ‘You must try to grow up.’
Ramona raised her voice. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’
‘You don’t have to be so noisy about it,’ said Mrs. Quimby.”
The scene continues:
“Ramona had had enough. … She wanted to do something bad. She wanted to do something terrible that would shock her whole family, something that would make them sit up and take notice. ‘I’m going to say a bad word!’ she shouted with a stamp of her foot.”
Then, in the culmination of the scene: “Ramona clenched her fists and took a deep breath. ‘Guts!’ she yelled. ‘Guts! Guts! Guts!’ There. That should show them.”
So exactly where does Cleary’s Ramona fit? She doesn’t. She’s an outlier of school standards and gender expectations. Before there were terms like “gender nonbinary,” “gender nonconforming” or “genderqueer,” there was Ramona. Ramona defies categorization. Her friendship with Howie offers one of many examples:
“‘At my grandmother’s,’ said Howie. ‘A bulldozer was smashing some old houses so somebody could build a shopping center, and the man told me I could pick up broken bricks.’
‘Let’s get started,’ said Ramona, running to the garage and returning with two big rocks. … Each grasped a rock in both hands and with it pounded a brick into pieces and the pieces into smithereens. The pounding was hard, tiring work. Pow! Pow! Pow! Then they reduced the smithereens to dust. Crunch, crunch, crunch. They were no longer six-year-olds. They were the strongest people in the world. They were giants.”
This passage is from “Ramona the Brave,” which both is and isn’t of its time. Published in 1975, the novel may be seen as an expression of second-wave feminism, which sought to recognize gender as a social construct and to challenge how mainstream society kept women from fulfilling their potential. However, it also previews third-wave feminism by insisting that women need not abandon their femininity to claim equity for themselves.
Ramona, though quite boyish, insists on writing her last name, “Quimby,” with the “Q” shaped into a cat “with a little tail,” reminding the reader of her feminine side.
I see in Cleary’s writing a nostalgia for the time in childhood before gender is clearly defined. By looking back to that time, children and adult readers alike may imagine a future in which people are able to think beyond gender.
Most of Cleary’s books are set in the mostly white Grant Park neighborhood of Portland, Oregon, where she grew up. The lack of racial diversity in Cleary’s work is a likely consequence of her having followed the adage adhered to by many writers: “Write what you know.” However, current readers might wish that she had stretched herself and her abilities a bit further to have imagined a more racially or ethnically diverse cast of characters.
Nevertheless, many assert the “universality” of Cleary’s stories. One such reader is young-adult author Renee Watson, who, upon Cleary’s death, commented that Ramona “wasn’t afraid to take up space.”
“I needed a friend like Ramona,” Watson said. “Cleary introduced to me this rambunctious girl, and I love her. … The power of her storytelling is the respect she had for young readers. She had a deep understanding that a girl articulating how she feels is an asset, not a flaw.”
As I’ve read Cleary’s books to my own Gen-Z sons, I have been particularly struck by how her writing has gotten them interested and invested in female as well as male protagonists. They love the books about Henry and Ribsy, but they love the Ramona books too. When it is so common for boys and men to ignore–or merely “glance” at–women’s writing about girls, this is significant. Through Cleary’s work, my sons can see that the big guys don’t always know best or win. Such perspectives can create new normals that are less, well, normative.
[You’re smart and curious about the world. So are The Conversation’s authors and editors. You can get our highlights each weekend.]
Kristin Girten, Assistant Vice Chancellor for Arts and Humanities/Associate Professor of English, University of Nebraska Omaha
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Heather Green, Nottingham Trent University
For many lovers of classic literature, opportunities to devour the works of undiscovered authors can be enough to make people’s eyes light up. For those who aren’t as keen on the genre, the appeal of these titles is a little less obvious. In fact, it’s one of the reasons museum professionals are running into issues when it comes to inspiring new generations to read such works.
Engaging young people is a challenge for museums and the traditional approaches that literary heritage museums take when dealing with classic authors is becoming a problem. This is because literary heritage museums usually focus on presenting the biographical story, personal effects or archival collection of an author. Relevant and interesting perhaps to those already familiar with an author’s works, but perhaps less successful at engaging would-be readers. The language of some of these authors can also be a barrier to new readers, as can the difficulty of reading “a classic” – which might be seen as irrelevant or out of touch with the modern world.
As the community, learning and engagement officer at Wirksworth Heritage Centre in Derbyshire, my role is to engage audiences of all ages with the local history of Wirksworth. A key element to Wirksworth’s heritage is its literary connections to writers (including George Eliot, DH Lawrence and Daniel Defoe) and the inspiration they took from the people and the landscape of Wirksworth. My PhD research considers how literary heritage is presented in museums throughout the country. I have a particular interest in Nottingham, which was awarded the Unesco City of Literature bid in 2015 due to its rich literary heritage, but also has some of the lowest literacy levels in the country.
Since COVID-19, finding new ways to share our literary heritage both inside and outside of museum walls has become incredibly important. So how should museums show that these authors remain relevant in the 21st century? Literary heritage museums are doing this in a whole host of ways, but here are the three examples of approaches I believe are particularly successful.
From the Austen Project to the many graphic novel retellings and classic novels reimagined as text messages, retelling stories with a contemporary twist is a well-trodden (if not always well-reviewed) path. It’s also a method of interpretation that literary heritage museums are beginning to embrace.
Using new and creative formats can remove some of the barriers to young people wanting to experience these stories and can inspire them to try the “real thing”. As part of my own curatorial work with Dorking Museum, I wrote a book entitled Forster in 50 which accompanies the exhibition Forster at 50. The book provides visitors with an overview of five of Forster’s novels in only 50 words with illustrations, providing more of an accessible introduction to EM Forster’s work.
Technology and literature may have seemed like a mismatch once upon a time, but more and more museums are using different technologies to engage audiences with their collections. Before its closure in 2016, the DH Lawrence Heritage Centre presented the 1915 censorship trial of Lawrence’s The Rainbow through a series of Twitter posts in their exhibition No Right to Exist: The Rainbow and Other Books Which Shocked. This condensed the complexities of the trial into a series of 140 character posts, allowing younger audiences to explore the debate in a familiar format and go on to consider what we consider scandalous in literature today.
My own work has included the co-production of Walking with Lawrence, a digital walking tour written from Lawrence’s perspective which allows the listener to connect the author with the city they see today. The use of a creative narrative which is listened to rather than read provides a format that’s easier to understand, removing some of the barriers created by large amounts of text.
Working with creative partners such as artists and writers can help museums to reach new audiences, providing more approachable information for younger generations in particular. Graphic novels and comic books are incredibly helpful in this respect. I’m working with Wirksworth Heritage Centre’s writer in residence Helen Greetham, who’s currently producing a graphic novel about the literary heritage of George Eliot in Wirksworth.
A similar project is underway in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire, working with young people to produce their own Lawrence-inspired graphic stories. The Eastwood Comics project aims to engage “700 further young people (who) will learn about the author and his birthplace by taking part in activities inspired by the young writers’ research”. Here, participation in creative projects and reading new stories help new generations to connect with Lawrence’s heritage in more meaningful ways than regurgitating information about the author.
The pandemic has provided an unprecedented challenge to the heritage sector, but the closure of our sites doesn’t mean we can’t continue to connect people to our history. These new and innovative ways that museums have engaged and inspired younger generations can continue regardless of whether physical buildings are open. In the months ahead, I hope more buildings take similar approaches.
Heather Green, PhD Candidate, Literary Heritage, Nottingham Trent University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Beverley Brenna, University of Saskatchewan
Contemporary Canadian picture books are sweeping readers off their feet with compelling images as well as — or instead of — words.
Julie Flett’s Birdsong, for example, recently earned the 2020 TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award for the most distinguished book of the year. Before winning, the book was shortlisted alongside two other picture books and two middle-grade novels for this prestigious prize. Since 2014, many of the winners of this award have been picture books.
Combinations of images and words have come into their own as spectacular products of arts and culture. As such, they have tremendous potential in the wide field of literacy as families, schools and communities embrace shared reading opportunities.
My research team and I recently explored 500 picture books created by authors or illustrators living in Canada and published since 2017 by Canadian publishers. I’ve also reviewed an array of modern titles that demonstrate the evolution of what Eliza Dresang, a professor of library science, called “radical change” in children’s literature.
Dresang identifies that in our digital age, we’re seeing an increased variety of forms and formats in children’s literature, and wider content boundaries. Children’s literature is currently engaging more serious subject matter and including perspectives that have been historically marginalized, such as stories about Indigenous people’s experiences of residential schools.
Through literary and artistic merit, many picture books attract wider age ranges and engage older adults than ever before. Some titles can even support struggling teen readers.
Today, picture books appear in a variety of genres, fiction and non-fiction, and generally unfold in 24 or 32 pages. Many of these books rely greatly on images to create and deepen meaning, and image quality is therefore critical. Readers now have access to multi-media projects with tremendous artistic merit, as well as stunning projects without any words at all, such as Sidewalk Flowers, illustrated by Sydney Smith and authored by JonArno Lawson. This wordless picture book won the 2015 Governor General’s Award in the category for children’s illustrated books.
Children need access to stories that authentically represent their lived lives. Educators and parents who are selecting picture books for children should examine the illustrations as well as the words, seeking titles that are representative of the world we live in. Audiences need diverse characters who are portrayed respectfully and accurately in terms of culture, language, religion, social class, ability, sexual orientation and gender.
The increasing availability of dual-language books offers a wonderful opportunity to celebrate multiple languages, with translations either embedded as single words or full text variations.
The following books are extraordinary in both text and illustration, grouped here as a snapshot of contemporary excellence that represents diverse communities, identity themes and artistic media. Include them in home and school collections or enjoy them from your local public library.
The Land Beyond the Wall, by Veronika Martenova Charles.
Nimbus Publishing, 2017.
This allegory, presented in evocative narrative and watercolour, follows a young girl who moves to a country where she is free to be an artist. The author’s afterword discusses her childhood behind the Iron Curtain, arriving in Canada via Pier 21 in Halifax. For ages 5–12+.
My Beautiful Birds, by Suzanne Del Rizzo.
Pajama Press, 2017.
Sami has escaped war-torn Syria and lives in a refugee camp. As he befriends four new birds, he begins to adjust to his new life. Poetic language pairs well here with stunning illustrations created through Plasticine, polymer clay and acrylics. For ages 6–10+.
My Cat Looks Like My Dad, by Thao Lam.
OwlKids, 2019.
This unique story, presented with retro-style collage, lists the various ways the narrator’s dad resembles their cat. A surprising twist at the end: the narrator is actually a bird. The message is that family is what you make it. For ages 3–8+.
Kisimi taimaippaktut angirrarijarani/Only in my hometown, written by Angnakuluk Friesen, illustrated by Ippiksaut Friesen and translated by Jean Kusugak.
House of Anansi Press, 2017.
Free-verse childhood memories, paired with evocative paintings, illuminate growing up in a small Arctic town. The text unfolds in two languages: Inuktitut (using both syllabics and transliterated roman orthography) and English. For ages 5–adult.
Africville, written Shauntay Grant and illustrated by Eva Campbell.
Groundwood Books, 2018.
A young girl visits the former site of Africville and imagines this historic Black Nova Scotian community while thinking about family stories. Textured oil-and-pastel-on-canvas illustrations extend the lyrical text. An author’s note provides more information about Africville’s development from an early settlement, and how the community was razed by the city of Halifax in the 1960s. For ages 4–8+.
Seamus’s Short Story, written by Heather Hartt-Sussman and illustrated by Milan Pavlović.
House of Anansi Press, 2017.
When Seamus wears his mother’s high-heeled shoes, he can reach everything! But … there are definitely times to be tall and times to be small. This is a nuanced story about innovation, self-acceptance and love, presented with a bright palette of colour. For ages 4–8.
The Dog Who Wanted to Fly, written by Kathy Stinson and illustrated by Brandon James Scott.
Annick Press, 2019.
This warm-hearted story, enriched by Brandon Smith’s highly animated illustrations, encourages readers to follow their dreams. Zora is a well-developed and compelling canine character that audiences will cherish. For ages 3–8.
The Girl and the Wolf, written by Katherena Vermette and illustrated by Julie Flett.
Theytus Books Ltd., 2019.
A girl gathers berries with her mother when she becomes lost in the woods. A wolf helps her use her wits and she finds her family. Later, she leaves tobacco in a red cloth as a gift of thanks. Julie Flett’s textured mixed-media images extend Katherena Vermette’s powerful text about finding courage and wisdom inside ourselves. The author’s note says this story was “inspired by traditional stories, yes, but in no way taken from one.” For ages 4–9+.
The Outlaw by Nancy Vo.
House of Anansi Press, 2018.
A young boy speaks on behalf of an outlaw returning to make amends in this story about redemption. The images use ink, watercolour and newsprint transfer, with newspaper clippings and fabric patterns from the late 19th century. For ages 5–9+.
Beverley Brenna, Professor of Curriculum Studies, College of Education, University of Saskatchewan
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
England international footballer and child poverty campaigner Marcus Rashford has announced that he is launching a book club. The initiative will distribute books to children, particularly those from vulnerable and underprivileged backgrounds, in order to promote reading and literacy.
Studies have shown us how vital reading – specifically reading for pleasure – is for academic and economic success, as well as for mental health (among other things). Reading, according to the National Literary Trust, encourages children (particularly girls) to dream about the future.
But the number of children reading every day for pleasure is at its lowest since the National Literacy Trust started monitoring it in 2005. In 2019, only 26% of young people (under 18) read every day. Although engagement with books has risen during lockdown, some children have faced greater barriers due to library closures, amongst other things.
Former children’s laureate Michael Rosen has said these findings should act as “a wake-up call for the government”. And we already know that Rashford can cause a stir at Westminster. So his intervention could become a much-needed force for change.
Rashford says that reading and books are cool. Children who own books are more than twice as likely to agree that reading is cool than those who don’t. But what if you don’t have access to books, like 384,000 children and young people (mostly from disadvantaged backgrounds) in the UK? And, more specifically, what if you don’t have access to books that you can see yourself in?
My own research, along with that of the Reflecting Realities project by the
Centre for Literacy in Primary Education, has also demonstrated how woefully underrepresented people of colour are in children’s books and children’s authorship. A few weeks ago, my new BookTrust Represents report was published in conjunction with the new Centre For Literacy In Primary Education (CLPE) report, which tracks the number of children’s books by and about people of colour published in the UK.
Read more:
Five books to read to children that adults will enjoy
Both reports show progress over the past three years (2017-2019): the number of protagonists of colour increased fivefold, from 1% (2017) to 5% (2019), while the number of authors of colour increased from 5.58% to 8.68%.
It is important to stress that these numbers are still very low, particularly when we consider that 33.5% of school-age children in the UK are from ethnic minority backgrounds. There is a long way to go before representation in children’s books and publishing authentically mirror UK society. And it will take collective action to break down the systemic barriers that cause under- (and mis-) representation.
This is why initiatives like Rashford’s book club are very welcome. In light of my research, I support the book club’s focus on quality inclusive youth literature: books that are authentically representative of the society that we live in. “No matter where you grow up”, Rashford wrote in a statement, “talent should be recognised and championed”.
Books provide insight into a variety of different lives and cultures. They have an important role in holding up a mirror to the world or offering a window into another. What they reflect impacts how young readers see themselves and the world around them. Inclusive books are important for children of all ethnicities and from all socio-economic backgrounds.
This new book club, with Rashford at the helm, will bring inclusive books into the consciousness of a much wider audience. Rashford has already made strides in tackling inequality in the UK and this initiative will help bridge the cultural and educational divide.
Rashford will also co-author several books, in partnership with MacMillan Children’s Books, beginning with You Are A Champion: Unlock Your Potential, Find Your Voice And Be the Best You Can Be, based on Rashford’s life (May 2021). Two books, aimed at children over six, will follow in 2022. This age group is significant because it covers a critical period in academic development where there is often a decline in children reading for pleasure.
Rashford can now add author and cultural gatekeeper to his list of accolades, and, by centring himself as such, will be a role model to aspiring writers and publishers – something my previous BookTrust Represents report highlighted as an enabler for young people of colour to join the industry.
While this intervention by Rashford is exciting, it’s important to acknowledge the activists, authors, publishers, and booksellers that have been supporting inclusive youth literature for decades. Bookshops and supermarket bookshelves may be dominated by bestselling and celebrity books, but other books, with smaller marketing budgets abound. Here are five of my favourite books for young people (published in 2020), by British authors of colour, to tide you over until Rashford’s book club begins next year:
The Infinite by Patience Agbabi: A time-travelling mystery and adventure by a much-celebrated poet.
When Secrets Set Sail by Sita Bramachari: Another magical book, on a hidden part of Indian history, by this stalwart author.
The Girl Who Became a Tree: A Story Told in Poems by Joseph Coelho: Ancient legends and modern-day grief merge in this book in verse.
Boy, Everywhere by A M Dassu: A beautifully written debut about the plight of Syrian refugees.
When Life Gives You Mangos by Kereen Getten: Another dreamy debut about friendship, loss, and small-town life.
Melanie Ramdarshan Bold, Associate Professor of Publishing and Book Cultures, UCL
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
