Censorship Discussion Sparked by The Courage of Sarah Noble

6 Oct 1998
Martha Grenzeback

I recently came across a fundamentalist homeschooling web page that provided reviews of a number of (mostly old) children's books.   Points were taken off a number of seemingly (to me, anyway) innocuous books (such as Elizabeth Enright's Goneaway Lake etc.) for such no-nos as:  fantasy, certainly, but even any mention of luck, good or bad, because God, not luck, controls what happens to us; cases where children keep secrets from their parents; cases where children lie (really bad!); cases where children argue with or think they know better than their parents; cases where children are not punished for disobedience;any bad language (we're talking "damn," "hell," and "Jesus!" as expletives here); mentions of witches, devils, etc., even in fun.  And these were books that the web site recommended with reservations; it did not review any books that it considered should actually be kept out of children's hands.  Books were reviewed in detail so that parents could be "forewarned" and either skip over the offending material when reading with their children or discuss with them why the no-nos were bad.  I'm sorry I didn't write down the address (came across it in a very meandering search for something else), because I found it very illuminating.  Although I have read a certain amount about censorship of literature, children's and adults, these mostly positive fundamentalist reviews really showed me that there is virtually NO LIMIT to what may be considered objectionable by someone, somewhere.

I think that Catherine Balkin is right that many adults simply have trouble facing certain issues themselves and so try to shield their children; but beyond that, I think even more (dare I say most?) adults simply don't give children credit for any native common sense.  Children are seen as completely empty vessels that must be filled very carefully.  (What about breakage?  Spilling?  Well, perhaps not quite the right simile...)

Gloria and list—

In answer to your question, "really harmful material" is material that does damage to a child's psyche, that makes a child feel "less than" other children, that gives a child a stomach ache she can't talk about because it hurts too much. I have a big problem with the idea of "allowing" children to read anything, letting them "decide for themselves what is poetry and what is poison." What do we do, for instance, with a racist book that is forced upon children who can't defend themselves? An example is "The Courage of Sarah Noble," which has, for more than 40 years, caused great pain to Indian children forced to read it in class. Here are a few words from a child named Raven:

"My name is Raven. When I was in the third grade, our class read 'The Courage of Sarah Noble.' In this book they said Indian people were savages and murderers, they chop your head off and eat you alive and that we were not really people. When the class put on the play for the whole school, the kids started taunting me, calling me 'stinky' and asking me how many people I've eaten. Nobody would play with me or even sit next to me in class.... I felt so ashamed. Finally, I told my mother I didn't want to go back to school."

Do our children have to endure this for another 40 years because some people think the philosophical discourse about "censorship" is more important than our children's pain? Taking a harmful book out of a classroom or putting it on a high shelf in the library where children cannot get to it is not "censorship"— it's compassion.

This is not censorship; it is common sense.

The one inviolable rule about reading in my classroom is that no one is ever required to read any particular book.   I would never coerce a child -- assuming that is possible -- into reading a book of any kind.  I also spend a great deal of time and energy making clear that all readers are free to criticize, question, critique, and, yes, even abandon any book that they find disturbing or offensive for whatever reason.   In such a climate, it's inconceivable to me that a child would ever be traumatized by a book.  In a quarter century of kid-watching, I've never known it to happen.   For me and mine, it will always be freedom of choice.

Books are not the enemy.  I'm not ever afraid of them and the ideas they contain or inspire, no matter how obnoxious.  What better way to counter ideas we find repulsive than to bring them out into the open and challenge them?

Janet Zarem wrote:

 Gloria, I assume from your post (and the spirit of your posts for a  couple of years now) that were you to encounter Raven (those first  reading, see below) in your class, you would open a discussion on "The  Courage of Sarah Noble," although you might not be reading it as a class  in the first place. I am also assuming you would intervene in abusive  behavior shown towards any student. Do you read books to the whole  class? Have there been discussions when a student was offended or upset?  Actually, this question is for all of our teacher contributors. How do  you manage in these situations? I am especially interested in the case  of elementary-aged children. Thanks for your wisdom in advance, Janet

Gloria and list—

You seem to be a compassionate person. You say that you would never coerce a child into reading any particular book and I believe you. When you say that, in the climate of your classroom, "all readers are free to criticize, question, critique, and, yes, even abandon any book that they find disturbing or offensive" I believe that you believe that. But I must question this comment: "In such a climate, it's inconceivable to me that a child would ever be traumatized by a book. In a quarter century of kid-watching, I've never known it to happen."

Gloria, in my quarter century of kid-watching, I have seen it many times, and continue to see it all the time. Children may be told that they are "free to criticize, question, critique," etc., but that doesn't make it a reality for, say, Native children who are taught by precept that teachers are learned elders who are not to be questioned or challenged. So if Raven were in your classroom, sitting in the back, averting her eyes, not saying anything while you and the class read "The Courage of Sarah Noble," would you have surmised that she was not suffering quietly because if she had had something to say, she would have said it? Or worse, would you have aasked her what she thought about the book?

Young children do not have the words to tell their hurt. They do not know that it's not their fault that hateful things are being said about them. Some suffer quietly and others act out. Both ways, they are traumatized. As I said, I see it all the time.

I would not give a child a racist book to read any more than I would give her a cigarette or a loaded gun. Either way, it's poison.

My approach to literature is grounded in critical literacy. We read to make meaning, to examine and interrogate the ideas and images we encounter, not to idolize them. And we continually measure what we read against what we know from our own experience and from outside sources. Any book I read aloud is selected with great care and consideration of the needs and interests of all my children. I can't imagine ever choosing to read *The Courage of Sarah Noble* aloud, but if I did, it would not be in a deferential or reverential manner. In classrooms in which the teacher isn't an autocrat dispensing approved symbols and privileging certain interpretations, but rather is one meaning-maker among many, albeit a more experienced one, children learn to trust themselves more and look less to the teacher for officially sanctioned meanings. Of course it's possible that I've overlooked a suffering child, but generally my conscience is clear. I make every effort to provide the best possible books for each child, to observe and listen closely as they read, and to give support, feedback, and guidance. I don't believe we can protect children from the knowledge of evil in the world. My vote is for equipping them to resist it.

Gloria and list—

I also "don't believe we can protect children from the knowledge of evil in the world." My work is to help them resist the feeling that *they* are evil because someone said so in a racist book. I have never seen "The Courage of Sarah Noble" taught in such a way as to equip children to resist the evil in the world. It's a fine book for a college-level course on racism in children's books, but I wouldn't want youngsters to get their hands on it. That's it; I'm going to bed.

I just pulled "The Courage of Sarah Noble" off my shelf to refresh my memories of the book, which I read for the first time a few years ago. I do not think this is a racist book. First published in 1954, it may not be written with quite the sensitivity that we would expect in a book written today, but Alice Dalgliesh was born in Trinidad and was astounded and confused by the racism she saw in American society when she began teaching in New York City. She later became a writer and then children's book editor for many year's at Scribner's.

Whatever Raven and the children, and apparently the teacher in the situation described got from the book, was certainly not the intended messag, which was to first depict the prejudices that historically existed in 18th-century New England toward Native Americans, and secondly to show how at least one family and one little girl learned from first-hand experience that the rumours spread about Native Americans and the beliefs many white settlers held were erroneous.

One of the first things we learn about reading literature is that the words spoken by a character in the book do not necessarily reflect the views of the author, and that whatever words are read must be put in context.

The context is this: Sarah Noble's father is taking her into the wilderness, and on the way they stop for the night and ask for shelter at a home of strangers. The children in the family laugh and point at Sarah because she is going to live in the woods with the Indians. "The Indains will eat you," Lemuel said and smacked his lips loudly.

"They will chop off your head," little Robert added, with a wide innocent smile.

"They will not hurt me," Sarah said. "My father says the Indians are friendly."

"They will skin you alive..." That was Lemuel.

This sets up the situation, and puts fear into Sarah about the situation she will face. These are obviously mean and teasing children.

Later in the story, Sarah overcomes her fear and becomes friends with the Indians, and plays with their children and spends a night in their home. When she finally returns home with her father to her mother again, the mother says, "I cannot think how your father could leave you alone with those savages. I had words with him when he came."

"But they are _not_ savages," Sarah said. "They are our friends and Tall John's wife takes good care of her children."

"Indeed," said John Noble, "that is true. And when I came back I found Sarah as clean and --and-- well-dressed as when I left her. Tall John's wife is almost as careful as you, Mary."

Sarah's mother did not believe a word of it. _That_ she would have to see for herself if she could bring herself to look into one of those queer wigwams. No Indian mother could be as good a mother as she was. And certainly not as good a housekeeper.

These last words are the mother's thoughts, and are obviously contradicted by the entire story. We have learned that Sarah and her father are right -- her mother and the hateful children earlier in the story are wrong.

The author's note says that the story is based on a real little girl, who in 1707, accompanied her father while he built a house in New Milford, CT. Sarah grew up to be a teacher, married, and all her life continued to be friends with the tall Indian who "loved her as he did his own children."

Granted, such a story, with the words it contains should be used with caution, but the whole intent of the story contradicts the experience that Raven had of it, which is very sad -- for apparently none of the children understood the story.

Had I been Raven's teacher, I would have made sure that both she and all the other children understood that the point of the story was to show that the deeply held prejudices of the ignorant adults and children in the story _were_ ignorant and false. Were I teaching in a class of children where there was perhaps only one Indian child, I would be very cautious about using this particular story, at least before I knew all the children very well, simply because, children being what they are, it would be easy for them to take those words out of context, as the children around Raven, and Raven herself, obviously, sadly, did.

In my haste to get my message off, I apologize for my "messag" and "Indain" and probably some other typos I haven't yet noticed. But, I did want to say that the entire book, with illustrations by Leonard Weisgard is only 52 pages long and can be read in its entirety very quickly, if anyone wants to do so to get the complete context.

Linnea, I do not have either the book in question nor my copy of "Through Indian Eyes" at hand, but burned in my memory are some very "horrific" and "frightening" illustrations. To me, this is a case of pictures that speak louder than words because I do vividly remember the pictures but had forgotten the plot twists which you relay. I cannot think of anything benign about what I recall (I don't recall all the pictures either).

This does remind us that one must think of the interaction between child reader and illustration as well as child reader and text. And since the text is overall "friendly" toward the Indians, do the illustrations overwhelm and contradict this? (at least some of them?) Do they make it clear that the exaggerations are colored with prejudice or point of view--as you've pointed out the words seem to do? What is the "whole story" that the book tells?

We can't redo what the sensibilities were almost half a century ago, nor can we remove the "long life" this book will have because of the award it won -- despite the fact that there are many other books that many of us would prefer to read and recommend that children read. But it does seem important to grasp what the reader response to the combined effort of author and illustrator might be -- both Native child and non Native child.

I have just read G. Pipkin's post, and agree with it.

When I teach a course about children's literature and even when I teach a course about literacy, I bring up censorship as an issue, as about 20% of teachers will be faced with censorship. I have students explore what/when/why/how and so forth of censorship before I ever give my opinion. As teachers I tell them they must be careful, as something written could offend someone. Then I tell them that as a parent, I have the right to censor what my children read/watch/listen to, but I have NO BUSINESS trying to tell other children what they can watch/ read/listen to.

All of us censor in some way; usually by selection of books available. This may or may not be a good thing--we need to remember to be open and fair. We also need to remember to discuss themes/topics/etc. as appropriate, from teachers' standpoints with our students and from a parent's standpoint, with our own children.

We certainly need to allow children to read and think about issues in books and other places. We need to help them learn to think about what is "dangerous," "good," or "bad" and so forth, so they can make up their minds as Gloria P. says.

In a message dated 98-10-07 09:44:09 EDT, JAMPOLEE writes:

"All of us censor in some way; usually by selection of books available. This may or may not be a good thing--we need to remember to be open and fair. We also need to remember to discuss themes/topics/etc. as appropriate, from teachers' standpoints with our students and from a parent's standpoint, with our own children."

When I teach students about censorship, I make (as do Cullinan and Galda in their wonderful textbook, _Literature and the Child_) that there is a clear distinction between selection and censorship. Selection is a positive move.

From the vast array of choices, we select that literature that we deem important, uplifting, enlightening, educative, etc., that we think will enhance our students' appreciation of the lived experience. Censorship, on the other hand, is a negative move. It is a taking away, as in the example of removing books from the shelves that have been challenged by those who fear the power of literature. Cullinan and Galda provide an abbreviated version of the NCTE guidelines for distinguishing between censorship and selection in their book mentioned above.

So even though I don't think that I disagree with the spirit of Ellen Jampole's statement that we all "censor in some way," I do disagree with the terminology.

Thank you, Linnea, for your thoughtful exposition. I was wondering if I should be regretting consistently recommending this book as a "bridge" book between easy-readers and regular fiction. I also recommend "The Secret River" for the same purpose. I tell the child how *I* read the book first at about their age. As for "Sarah"- I tell them how a distinguished-looking older woman came int the library in New Haven and asked me for the book. When I asked for what age child, she said it was for her. Her son was marrying a woman descended from the Noble family, and she had heard the family story and wanted to read about her! This is history, and the characters react as they would have then. Anne "Librarian (like Stewardess, Certified Public Accountant, Used Car Salesman) is one of those occupations that people assume attract a certain deformed personality."

Eliza,

Maybe you are remembering some other book? I can't imagine anything about the illustrations in my copy ( a cheap Scholastic paperback) possibly being horrific. If anything, they are pastoral, gentle, and idealized. There are no scenes of brutality of any kind.

One picture shows Sarah reading and the Indian children gathered around her in a circle, with one toddler approaching her. They are naked except for loinclothes, but this hardly seems horrific. Whether it is accurate as to the dress of Native Americans in 1703 in what is now Connecticut1703, I honestly do not know and would have to research to determine. In other scenes the children are playing together, and in one she Sarah is being carried on Tall John's shoulders and waving cheerfully. The illustrations are two-color, brown and black, and depict the beauty of the wilderness landscape and the warmth of human relationships. None of Sarah's fearful thoughts or the horrors the children warn her she might expect are depicted, nor is the wilderness depicted as frightening, which, realistically it could have been.

Again, I would urge everyone interested to read the book and study the pictures. I don't have a copy of _Through Indian Eyes_ here, either, and so I do not know what else may have been objected to about the story. Perhaps the European settlement of Indian lands? But this is a tightly focused story for young children, not, it seems to me, a place to take on the intricacies and horrors of the European invasion of North America.

In terms of plot purpose, of course, the telling of frightening things about Indians is to build up suspense and to make concrete the kinds of misinformation that was commonly believed about Native Americans. It fulfills the familiar story pattern that has the feared unknown becoming lovable once it is known. The nightmare in the closet that ends up being taken into one's bed.

If anyone, after carefully reading the book and looking at the illustrations, has strenuous objections to this book, I'd like to hear them. It may not be entirely accurate, and it may be written in a way that we would not write it today, but "horrific" and "hurtful" seem to me to be going too far.

Gloria, Janet, AnBree, Linnea, Andrew, Mary, Ellen, Eliza, and list—

Just thought you might be interested to see what a Native writer and educator thinks of this book.

Beverly --

Sarah Noble is eight years old in 1707, and living in Westfield, Massachusetts. Her father is going to the "wilderness," to put up the first house in what will be New Milford, Connecticut, and Sarah is going with him, to cook. "Keep up your courage," her mother says, "Keep up your courage, Sarah Noble." And she finds much to be courageous about—the strange sound that is the call of an owl, a fox calling to his mate, the howl of a wolf—John Noble has his musket ready for that one—and most of all, Indians.

"'The Indians will eat you,' Lemuel said and smacked his lips loudly. 'They will chop off your head,' little Robert added, with a wide innocent smile...'They will skin you alive...' That was Lemuel."

Sarah is greatly afraid, even though her father has told her that these are "good Indians." When they reach their destination, Sarah and her father set up housekeeping in a cave, until the house can be built.

Chapter five is entitled "Indians!" And here they do arrive—a bunch of little kids. "Sarah kept still as a rabbit in danger. The children came in, creeping nearer, creeping nearer, like small brown field mice..." Sarah is shocked to see that they are naked, "unless you could call that one small piece of cloth 'cloth-ing.'" However, they turn out to be friendly, so all goes pretty well until it is time for John Noble to go back for the rest of his family. He tells Sarah that she is going to stay with "Tall John," father of two of the children she especially likes. "You have been brave," John Noble says, "and now you will have to be braver." "'You mean I am to live with the Indians?'" Once she gets over that, Sarah starts to worry about the "Indians from the North," of whom even "Tall John" is afraid. But none of Sarah's fears are realized, and her family arrives safely.

There are problems with this book. The author tells us that "This is a true story, though I have had to imagine many of the details," and that might be part of it. It seems pretty unlikely that a child living anywhere in what would become New England in 1707—except maybe Boston—would be unfamiliar with owls, foxes, even wolves. And contrary to the mythology, there is no documented case of any human ever having been attacked by a wolf in North America. At this time, well away from any white settlements, that "one small piece of cloth" the little kids are wearing would have been hide—if it was anything at all. At one point, John Noble says, speaking about a piece of land, "The Indians have cleared it for a hunting ground." Now, I am trying to imagine how this would work. Did they just go out there and stand, and wait for something to go through, or what?

Such things simply indicate that the author saw no need to look into anything beyond what she already "knew" of the time period. On the other hand, the air of menace throughout the book is nearly tangible. The forest is always "The Wilderness." The trees are "angry dark trees" that

"seemed to stand in their path...trees dark and fearful, trees crowding against each other, trees on and on, more trees and more trees. Behind the trees there were men moving...were they Indians?"

And it is in the Native people that the heart of the menace and strangeness lies. Although in fact nothing ever endangers this child, neither the animals nor the people, and there is never any need for all this courage, the author carries it to the very end. Having—finally—gotten it, that "these Indians are our friends," Sarah tells her doll, "...and they will tell us if the Indians from the north are coming...Keep up your courage, Arabella, keep up your courage." Although "Tall John" has become a friend, and Sarah has played many times with his children, when it comes time for her to stay with them, there is fear. John Noble worries, "Am I doing right to leave her?" Sarah

"was not saying anything, but her mind...was making pictures, trees...trees...dark trees...narrow paths through the forest...wolves...bears. Suppose her father never came back and she had to live with the Indians all her life?"

As for the people themselves, we never see how they live. Although there are many children, there are no adults beyond "Tall John" and his wife. Where are the families, the band, the encampment, or village? The people have no Nation, the are just "the Indians." From this book, one would never know that they had a way of life, societal structure, and economy. In the illustrations, there are two distant views of one dwelling only, the "Indian house," but we never see inside. Much is made of Native names: "'There There is a tall Indian who...will help me. I cannot say his name, so I will call him "Tall John.'" Sarah "could not say the long, long names of the children, so she called the boy Small John and the girl Mary." And on her first night in their home, she is faced with a dilemma: "Now she really had to stop and think. Was it right to pray for Indians? Did the Lord take care of Indians?"

Dalgliesh called her book a "story of faith and courage and friendship." Possibly that was her intent. Friendship does not call people out of their names just because they are unfamiliar. Friendship does not doubt the safety of a child with people who have shown you nothing but kindness. Friendship does not call a woman "squaw." Friendship does not wonder if people are human enough to pray for. If words and pictures show people only as creatures of the wild, that is how children will think of them, no matter how much you speak of friendship. If there is something fearful about them, even after months of relationship, if you say their names are impossible, and slap other names on them—any old ones will do—and nobody objects, if you show nothing of their lives, then they have no identity that children can understand, no reality as human beings.

The subtext of "The Courage of Sarah Noble" is the same story that we have heard for 500 years. Indians were/are primitive—wild. When not outright savage, Native peoples still have more in common with the creatures of the Earth and the birds of the air, than with the culturally and technologically superior Europeans. They aren't "civilized." And therefore no obstacle. This message is the one underlying everything children have been taught about indigenous peoples, not just in the Americas, but around the world, and it comes through in this book—loud and clear.

In fact, as a little research will quite clearly substantiate, we were—and are—hundreds of separate Nations—all with certain things in common, such as belief in the Creator, relationship with all things, and the sanctity of Earth and all life—but also, all varying greatly from one to another, in appearance and lifeways. Nothing was "wilderness." This was—and is—our home, and we belong to it deeply, in a way few non-Native people seem to understand. Some of us had "civilizations" as complex, if not more so, as anything the old world ever produced. (We also considered personal hygiene to be pretty important—something which records of the time indicate the colonists had yet to discover.) But it is always a mistake to judge any people solely on aspects of material culture. Native understanding of the web of life was sophisticated, with a spiritual connection to all creation that has yet to be equaled by any non-indigenous people, something that all must now learn—or else perish.

I am picturing the use of this book in a classroom situation, and I know what will happen, because I have been there. The white kids—at least those who are well-to-do—will be reinforced in their sense of entitlement and superiority to everybody else in the world. The poor kids will discover that there is someone they can look down on, too. They will all make fun of the Indian kids (not in front of the teacher, maybe, although I have seen that, too). The Native kids will be shamed—one more time.

The usual defense for a book of this nature, is that we must understand it as a product of its time. This is true. "The Courage of Sarah Noble" was published in 1954, and it is very much a product of is time—a time that has come and gone. In a world where our divisiveness threatens the very existence of all human beings, of all life, there is no room, and no time, for such a story. I would give a child no book, rather than this nasty little thing—and I'm damn sure I don't want my kids reading it.

—Doris Seal

As I've read this thread I've had a funny feeling in my stomach remembering how overwhelmed I felt when one of my books was removed from middle school libraries in Enrico County, Virginia. It was done on the basis of one complaint from a man and his wife who did not like their child reading a book that contained a discussion of the development of an adolescent girl's body. The county school administrator who overruled a decision to keep "Shabanu" on the school library shelves became the state superintendent of schools, and there was talk of banning the book statewide. (Most authors have at least one brush with censorship. I'm only talking about the brush I had concerning a book I wrote because I know more about this one situation than any others.)

At about the same time this happened I had a letter from a student who said "Shabanu" had "saved (her) life." She was a girl from Afghanistan who had seen her mother killed in an air raid on her village. She had moved to the United States with her father and stepmother and sisters. Her family insisted that she wear a traditional head covering, and she was not allowed to socialize with other kids her age (I believe she was 12 or 13). She was desperately lonely, probably seriously depressed. She wrote "I have been without hope." She said she had learned from "Shabanu" "that I can solve my own problems with strength that comes from within myself." (I'm quoting from her letter.) There couldn't be a greater payoff for an author than to hear that a book you wrote had given someone hope. It makes me so angry to think that books that someone somewhere might take solace in, might learn something valuable from, can be banned on the strength of one irrational complaint by one family. It's fine if that couple did not want their child to read "Shabanu." But that they might have kept a book from the hands of a young girl like my young Afghan correspondent is too heartbreaking.

I was alerted to the situation in Enrico County by Mary Lyons, who has spoken out forcefully against censorship. When the schools in the county where I lived in Florida in 1995 faced a similar challenge, and then another, I contacted Mary Lyons again. She put me in touch with People for the American Way (which oddly enough sounds like the opposite of what it is). They sent a set of guidelines called: "ORGANIZING: FOR EDUCATORS" that helps teachers and school librarians deal with book challenges. The address for PAW is 2000 M Street, NW, Suite 400, Washington, D.C. 20036. Phone: (202) 467-4999. They emphasize preparation: while most counties have policies for processing and acting on book challenges, often school administrators and librarians have not thought through how they would respond in an actual case. Our community was one of those. We found that the challengers DID know the policy, and they were much better prepared than the school system was. I urge teachers and librarians who do not have a good, solid response worked out to possible book challenges to contact PAW and get a set of these guidelines. Perhaps others of you on this list have other sources to recommend.

Beverly:

Thank you for sending this message. I hope we can all begin to learn through carefully reading these words. I also hope that this book along with many others is put aside, perhaps studied in graduate school at best.

Before all start to speak of censorship, let me make clear my position. I will not use or encourage the use of any book that would demean a child. I have too much respect for children. I think sometimes we forget that books that were read and honored in the past are just that, things of the past. Hopefully, our knowledge and cultural awareness has grown while the books in question remain static. No matter how you try to slice it, Alice Dalgliesh was wrong on many, many counts. The fact is no one was there to call her on it! Yes, she was from Trinidad but she was of a white, colonial, western European family and when she came to Teachers College, CU she had some of that baggage with her.

In my mind we can not undue the harm that has been done by this book and many, many others, but we can and must try to listen to those who speak to us in such caring and informed fashion.

Suzanne Staples says, "People for the American Way . . . oddly enough sounds like the opposite of what it is." Their name, their rhetoric, even their choice of graphics in their literature, is carefully chosen to remind people that freedom of speech IS the American Way. They have made a deliberate effort to try to retrieve the American flag from becoming the symbol only of right-wing fundamentalists and try to remind us of the roots of a liberal, tolerant, and open-minded tradition of our American heritage.

How beautifully stated. I am confident you view this touching story as it was intended, and as it should be approached while sharing with children in every era. Children are sensitive (and often cruel) today, just as they were in Sarah's day. The author does not condone, rather she helps the reader recognize that in that day and age (as today) there were (are) misconceptions which can be turned around. I applaud - loudly- your sensitive comments.

I guess it's because I was a history teacher long before I became a teacher of children's Literature (possible, perhaps, only in a two-year community college), that I stress to my students the importance of noting the date a book was published. Particularly, they should be cautious about 1950's books. My students, college sophomores mostly, simply to not carry a memory of the 1960's and 1970's and do not appreciate the changes in attitude and in understanding that occurred in those decades. I tell them to memorize the date (1964) of the Civil Rights Act -- I test them on it.

Beverly and Kay make some excellent points about books like these. I'd like to add that we need to expose our students to literature that will allow them to critically assess for themselves a book's racially or culturally insensitive attitudes. Whether one exposes them to Sarah Noble or not (and I believe there are enough other wonderful books out there that Sarah Noble wouldn't be missed) it is important to expose them to the growing array of authentic multicultural books that might allow them to develop for themselves the perspectives necessary to recognize the damaging images books such as Sarah Noble perpetuate. If one believes Sarah Noble has other redeeming features as a book, then one should make sure that the negative aspects could be countered by better examples from other books.

Both Beverly and Kay distance themselves from accusations of censorship, perhaps rightly so. Beverly puts the word in quotes; Kay begins "before all start to speak of censorship" but then changes the subject to speak of her own personal decision in regard to books she finds harmful and/or offensive.

Both Kay and Beverly--and Doris Seale as well-- obviously have the right to be offended by a particular book, and to voice their objections to all who would listen. They also have the right to prevent children in their custody from reading particular books, although I think this is shortsighted (still thinking my otherwise sainted mother was wrong to throw MY copy of the published script of "Hair" into the trash!). This isn't censorship yet.

Where it becomes censorship, in my view, is when someone entrusted with public funds (public librarians, say) refuses to purchase for a collection--or removes from that collection--a book because the selector is personally offended by it, or who thinks it will harm children with the ideas it contains. I suspect Beverly and Kay and certainly Doris Seale will disagree, but I think there is a difference between not purchasing a science-experiments book which inadvertently contains information that will cause children physical injury, and a book such as The Courage of Sarah Noble which may harm children's feelings or self-image, because implicit in Kay and Beverly's arguments is that if Sarah Noble does NOT harm a child's feelings or self-image, it SHOULD.

So here's my question: if you are a librarian selecting for a collection which routinely (and retrospectively) purchases all Newberys and Newbery Honor books, as many libraries do, and you decide to weed or not purchase Sarah Noble because you think it is racist and harmful, are you censoring? I say yes, and I'm troubled by your impulse. If I let you ditch or ignore Sarah Noble, doesn't that mean I also have to do right by the many people who think Daddy's Roommate harmful to children, and antithetical to proper values? Out goes Sarah, out goes Daddy. Who's left?

I meant to keep Ann Dowker's post on People for the American Way, in which she pointed out (forgive me, Ann for paraphrasing) that the name shows mainstream Americans support individual freedoms. The reason I mentioned that the name sounds oddly like the opposite of what the organization stands for is that I have heard people comment that pro-censorship organizations use names that suggest THEY stand for real, American family values -- names such as Citizens for Excellence in Education, and Traditional Values Coalition, The American Family Association, Eagle Forum, Concerned Women for Amerca. All of these names I've mentioned have made strong book, television, and other media challenges. PAW says inellectual freedom is the American way, and we're not going to let the forces for censorship co-opt that claim, which is one in their considerable aresenal of tricks.

In a message dated 98-10-07 13:21:54 EDT, Beverly writes:

" Dalgliesh called her book a "story of faith and courage and friendship." Possibly that was her intent. Friendship does not call people out of their names just because they are unfamiliar. Friendship does not doubt the safety of a child with people who have shown you nothing but kindness. Friendship does not call a woman "squaw." Friendship does not wonder if people are human enough to pray for. If words and pictures show people only as creatures of the wild, that is how children will think of them, no matter how much you speak of friendship. If there is something fearful about them, even after months of relationship, if you say their names are impossible, and slap other names on them—any old ones will do—and nobody objects, if you show nothing of their lives, then they have no identity that children can understand, no reality as human beings."

This raises another massive philosophical question. If an author were to incorporate into a book set in the 1700s the understanding and knowledge that we have in the late 1990s, the book would be inaccurate and anachronistic. Maybe in 1990 a friend doesn't call a woman "squaw," but in 1700 white people called Native women "squaw," and Native people used the word as the English translation of "woman." In 1998
the suggestion that a child would not question whether or not to pray for other human beings seems ridiculous, but white people in the 1700s were still arguing about whether Native American and Africans were "fully human." Whether or not they had souls which could be saved was a very lively discussion among some Protestant theologians. By raising (and resolving) the question in Sarah's mind, Dalgliesh is showing something from the larger society and demonstrating the child's ability to make a reasonable assessment and judgment which is contrary to what she has heard. Now should we be historically inaccurate in order to comply with modern sensibilities? Or should we be historically accurate and deal with the reality that things have changed--we hope, in this case, for the better.

I have some other concerns with the review. The suggestion that people, especially children, don't substitute familiar names for difficult names is absurd. My children routinely call their friends by nicknames, don't yours? And if the friend's name is lengthy or difficult to pronounce, the nickname may be the anglicized version, or a diminutive, or something completely unrelated. My children have teachers whom they call "Mrs. Kay" or "Mr. Pom" because their names, Greek or Japanese or Polish or Welsh in origin, are tongue-twisters for American elementary school children, and this is not considered offensive or patronizing. It seems that by bestowing upon her Native friends names which were common and familiar, Sarah is seeing them as ordinary children, like herself. Or more accurately, that this is a detail the author is using to demonstrate Sarah's observation to her child-readers. (I am not familiar with the original tale and don't know whether this "naming" is part of the handed-on story or Dagliesh's invention.)

And the contention that "there is no documented case of a wolf attack on humans in North America" makes me question the entirety of the critique. I don't know what kind of documentation the writer demands, but I would find it very ironic if she rejects oral history as a source for the experiences of white settlers when it is the primary source for the experiences of Native peoples. Just down the hill from me is a huge glacial erratic where a local fiddler escaped from a wolf-pack which had pursued him as he came up out of the river valley at dusk. A similar story has been passed down in another community 15 or 20 miles west of here. Children were attacked by wolves in New England in the seventeenth century (just as some have been attacked by coyotes in 1998). Where does one draw the line between "myth" and "oral history"? I hope not along racial divides. And besides all of that, the book does not depict a wolf attack, it depicts a child who is afraid of wolves. Is Ms. Seale suggesting that it is inaccurate to say that a white settler's child would have been afraid of wolves?

When my friend Muriel Dubois wrote _Abenaki Captive_ , one of the Native Americans asked by the publisher to vet the manuscript objected to a number of things which she felt made the Natives appear to be "savages." One was the scene of a number of hunters sitting around a fire in the middle of July, scraping hides and cooking down the meat which they were preparing to store for the winter. The men have no shirts on, and the expert objected that this perpetuated the "naked savages" stereotype--never mind the fact that when my husband has to work around a fire in New Hampshire the middle of July, he is shirtless. Another objection was that the Native Americans were portrayed as Catholics and the missionary priest in the village was a sympathetic character. Although the St. Francis Indians were 5th generation Catholics by the time of the story, the expert insisted that the characters should be portrayed as practicing their Native faith. And finally and most vehemently, the expert demanded that the scalping of a white hunter be removed from the book--scalping isn't really a Native tradition, she insisted, but a barbaric habit learned from European explorers, and we mustn't perpetuate those awful myths. Trouble is, the book was based on an actual event and there was in fact a red-haired scalp which was an important catalyst in the events.

The fact that we don't approve of history does NOT give us the right to revise it. It does give us -- all of us, writers and teachers, librarians and academics -- a heavy burden of responsibility in the ways we choose to present literature and history to the next generations.

This is not an academic subject, or one restricted to the Native American question. Italian and Irish Americans have legitimate concerns about the portrayal of their immigrant ancestors in fiction. So do Asian Americans. Already we are hearing from German young adults that they feel stigmatized by accounts of Nazi atrocities. Shall we expurgate from the literature anything which casts a bad light on Germans, regardless of historical fact? I'm a Catholic (someone has observed that religious hatred is the last socially acceptable prejudice in America). Should I object that my children are required to learn about Torquemada, or would it be better to ask that they and their classmates also read about Damien of Molokai?

Layer on top of this the fact that the book in question is not simply set in a historic period far removed from our own but is also in itself an artifact of another time which is in some ways equally foreign to us and the whole discussion becomes even more complex. Must we only share with children books which conform to the sensibilities of our generation? Must we, every decade or so, purge the canon of anything that offends? Should there be a new Index of Condemned Books, not burned but flagged so that only those with the intellectual maturity to process them are allowed to take them out of the library?

Does Doris Seale really believe that the only literature we should share with children should be that which offers a sanitized and idealized version of the world? What of literature's historic role as a means of experiencing other realitites, of coming to terms with fears and other inner demons, of meeting and learning from people and places we can never encounter in the "real world" beyond the pages of the book. (We could just substitute _Star Trek_ reruns for the literature in our classrooms. At least then all the bad guys are from other planets.) Would it not be preferable to share a variety of views with the children--views which reflect the reality that all people are fallable and prone to judging others whom they do not know, but that when we are open to one another we discover that there is much we share, and much we can learn from each other? Can't we teach that other people are no more or less human than we, simply different?

My heart aches for Raven and for other children who've been traumatized by books and movies. I don't think the answer is the removal of all such books from the library and classroom. Somehow there has to be a way to be both historically accurate and sensitive to contemporary issues at the same time. And always, always the needs of the child must be paramount. The burden is on the adult to anticipate and address potential hazards--and unfortunately we know not every adult who works with children is gifted or trained in this way. Which leads back directly to the purpose of studying and teaching children's literature, does it not?

It's a very interesting comment; but it wasn't from me. I meant to keep it too, but seem to have accidentally erased it. Does anyone have it?

First - I suspect that some of the long-time child_lit members may not want to get into this particular discussion because we've been through it before. However, given the fact that we have new subscribers (I refer to new groups of students), I think it important that we revisit our thoughts and perspective on this issue. I think it might be useful to all of us if any among us can address their own thinking and how it has changed based on the discussions on child lit.

Second, I would like to see us remain focused on the topic at hand without moving to a discussion of censorship. I don't mean to imply that censorship is not an important or useful or unrelated discussion, but it seems we move there quickly, when we might, with more challenge, devote our thoughts to other aspects of this discussion. For example - Eliza's comments on visual images.

She made an excellent point - the significance of the visual image. The words printed on the page may be telling us one thing (in this case, that Indians are not savages) but that visual image itself dovetails perfectly with the background knowledge children bring to any text - knowledge about "Indians" they already have gained from other sources such as television and the movies. As a Native person, my senses are acutely aware of this image and it pops up everywhere. (I invite anyone on the list to note examples of "Indians" in media/tv/advertising, etc. and send them directly to me.) Here's just a couple from the last few weeks:

Yesterday, local department store. On the shelf displaying the home spray fragrances, alongside the name brands was a new one I'd never seen before. It was "Indian Fruit" and emblazoned on the label was that dominant image of an Indian in a headdress.

Two weeks ago, Nickelodeon: Elizabeth (my daughter) was watching Brady Bunch. It was the episode in which the Brady's visit the Grand Canyon. They meet an Indian who is grateful that Mike Brady (father) has found the Indian man's grandson who was wandering around lost. The Indian invites them to a ceremony in which they will be adopted into his tribe. At this ceremony, the Indians wear large feathered headdresses and fringed buckskin as they dance around a fire.

Taken as a whole, those images suggest that Indians are/were exotic and/or extinct. Given this overwhelming body of misinformation that tells children who Indians are, I think we have to do far more than read Courage of Sarah Noble, with its (debatedly) positive message. We have to be aware that, as Beverly pointed out, the Native child hearing this is likely going to be hurt. The Native and/or non-Native child may or may not be processing the text, but he/she is most likely viewing the images and adding them to this already large bank of info, and as Eliza says - she remembers the images vividly while not recalling the text. That Eliza may have the wrong book in mind does not take away from the point that there is a commonly-held image of what Indians look like. The point is, I believe, that as soon as you say "Indians" a picture is formed in the reader's mind. Now, the counter to this is that "by the end of the book" the children have a more complete picture, because they learn that the Indians are really good people. Why can't we START with a book that establishes that - why do we have to wade through "bad Indian" stuff in order to get there?

So, as educators, we have this huge mountain of misinformation to pick away at. And we each have to decide how we're going to approach it. As I noted in the Horn Book article, Elizabeth is in a better place emotionally than she was before. We've gotten there only through lots of careful nurturing and work. When we see Indians on the Brady Bunch, we roll our eyes and use our phrase "TV Indians". That required work on our part, but also careful work on the part of her teachers.

I sing the praises of her kindergarten teacher - Bridget - who made that classroom safe soon after school started. In the 2nd week of school, one child said "Let's sit Indian style." Elizabeth cried out, which is out of character for her. Bridget came over to see what was up, and immediately called all the children over to the rug to talk about stereotypes. It sent an incredible message to Elizabeth, that this was a good place, a safe place, where her teacher was going to help her cope with the stereotypes whenever they appear.

When selecting books to read aloud in the classroom, we start with a goal. Why would a teacher read aloud Sarah Noble? What precisely is the goal? There are much better books that a teacher could select instead of Sarah Noble. If you are trying to teach about the meeting of two cultures during colonial times, a teacher could choose Dorris' _Guests_. If you are trying to teach about Native culture before colonial colonial times, what about Dorris' _Sees Through Trees_? The battles between the two cultures? Try Paul Jacobs book _James Printer: A Novel of Rebellion_, which is an even-handed treatment of the atrocities of war on both sides.

One key issue, I think, is why a particular book is chosen for a particular objective/goal. If the goal is to read a great adventure story about courage - there are many choices. Sarah Noble isn't the only one!

If you are choosing a book and your goal is to talk about racism and stereotyping, many questions come into play. Who are the children in the classroom? What is the context of the school itself? What is the age of the children in the classroom?

Thank you, Debbie, for reminding us to not ignore the images and pointing out things to look for in evaluating not only books but other media. I certainly agree that Dalgliesh's book reflects an assimilationist, colonialist perspective, and that the book would not be written that way today. Sanjay's point about emphasizing the "like us" and the clean house, and even the "noble savage" is on target. I would be cautious about using the book because of the way the negative stereotypes, despite the fact that they are used to reinforce their "wrongness" could be mishandled and mis-appropriated.

I do feel, that for the child I was in the culture of the 1950s, although I never saw the book then, this book would have been about the best that was available, and would have served its purpose well in refuting the "Indians as wild savages" stereotype that was present everywhere in popular culture (Davy Crocket _was_ "King of the wild frontier!"). One aspect of this book that helps it endure is that it is written for beginning readers, and is extremely simple. The Dorris books are wonderful, but "Guests" and "Sees Behind Trees" and "Morning Girl" are written for much more advanced reading level than "Sarah Noble."

It bothers me that this book is accused of being so awful and doing so much harm when the author's intention was obviously the opposite, when the cultural flaws are very much a product of the time in which the book was written -- , and when apparently few people care enough to actually read the book themselves and evaluate it in terms of its political and cultural messages and as a work of art. No, it shouldn't be the only book read about Native Americans, and yes, the book has some problems -- but not ones that can't be explained and that can't be understood by children.

It is a story about courage and facing the unknown, and gives a perspective on history as well. I agree with Sally's critique of Doris Seale's points. But, most of all, please read the book yourselves and make up your own minds about it. For years I avoided reading Theodore Taylor's "The Cay" because of the negative criticism I'd read about it. When I read the book for myself I was astounded and saddened, because although I could see the basis of the criticism, I felt it was totally out-of-proportion to the actual evidence in the book, and an unfortunate misreading.

One final note, and this really is the last I intend to say about Sarah Noble, the book Eliza may have been thinking of could be James Daughterty's "Of Courage Undaunted" about the Lewis and Clark Expedition, which does, if I remember, have some rather horrifying images of tomahawk wielding warriors. And, no, despite some of the incidents, images, and attitudes the book contains, I'd keep in on the shelves, too. The book was one I read and loved as a child and it inspired a life-long interest in the Lewis and Clark expedition, the geography, history, and natural history of the American west, and a love of stories of survival and exploration. I think all of us, children' included, can learn to recognize and identify "TV Indians" and "1940s and 1950s" women, nuclear families, Blacks, and Indians, and maybe even 1990s MTV and Madison Avenue stereotypes of ourselves.

Thanks, Debbie, Linnea, and Ann for noting (gently) that I was not describing The Courage of Sarah Noble's illustrations.The book's illustrations that are burned in my memory is believe -- still don't have it before me) The Matchlock Gun by Edmonds. This book won the 1942 Newbery Medal (honor books that year, interestingly enough, were Little Town on the Prairie and Indian Captive:The Story of Mary Jamieson). The Courage of Sarah Noble was a Newbery Award Honor Book in 1955. So, the principle was said as intended, but it was directed to a different book. No wonder the words and pictures seemed so discordant! Eliza Dresang

Sally Wilkins raises some interesting points as does does Doris Seale and Debbie Reese. I am in the uncomfortable situation of straddling both sides of this issue.

Here's an example from my own experience: I remember reading Cheeper by the Dozen as a child. I enjoyed it and thought it funny. When I saw it in a bookstore one day, I bought it, on impulse, for my oldest daughter. She read it and looked at me with surprise. Had I really enjoyed this book as a child? The mother in this story (my daughter informed me) frequently admonishes her children to quit acting like "wild Eskimos." I certainly didn't remember this part of the book . I don't remember even noticing it as a child. It is, however, the one memory which my daughter, who is part Eskimo, will retain of this particular book.

Clearly we--as the gatekeepers, students, critics and creators of children's literature---need to pay serious attention to the impact books have on ALL young readers. Children tend to suspend belief, more easily, and open themselve more completely to the story. Once they've bought into a story, the underlying racism will either slap them rudely in the face or stike them as normal and unworthy of notice. Neither response is acceptable.

What to do. Clearly Sally is right, "The fact that we don't approve of history does NOT give us the right to revise it." We may as well set about rewriting everything written and in the process of being written. The grandmother in my story is going to say Eskimo this and Eskimo that and the granddaughter, in the same story won't be offended by it even though she, herself, uses the real name--Inupiat--and understands that the term Eskimo is derived from a derogatory image invented by the French. She knows that grandma doesn't use the term in this way--it is simply the way she speaks when speaking English, and she knows, without even consciouly articulating it, that is totally out of order for her to correct her elder. And we as readers know (because I said so) that the writer isn't being racist in allowing the term to remain, but is merely trying to record an accurate image of grandma, as she really is. The writer, in fact, wants this image to be completely accurate because she loves Grandma and knows her to be a woman of much power and wisdom. And she (the writer) will be much offended if in years to come someone sees it as their mission to either "educate" grandma or ban the book.

Clearly, censorship isn't the answer. Otherwise, there goes Huck Finn and a host of other good books whose only crime may be that they succeeded in accurately portraying the mindset of an era, odious as it may be to a modern sensibility.

It seems to me, though, that if one is going to correct sterotypes one has to start with the truth and the problem is that the books which perpetuate sterotypes are often gobbled up by publishers and go on to garner major awards and earn movie contracts ad nauseum. The good books, such as the ones Debbie reccommends, go unnoticed maybe because sterotypes often have a romantic appeal to them. People don't want to believe that this is true. They even want to argue the opposite is true--that libraries full of bad books are being published simply because a writer is "of color." But this just simply is not true.

Gloria's ideal image of a classroom where the teacher and students, "continually measure what they read against what they know from their own experience and from outside sources" is a good one. The obvious problem with it is that even the most well-intentioned teacher may, out of ignorance, be perpetuating stereotypes. And this, of course is useful to no one and is very damaging to some. It is very difficult to measure, and often impossible to detect, one's own ignorance and unconscious biases. Even very good people tend to get defensive, swearing that they checked all the sources...

I hope someone has an answer to this.

This is a long post, replete, I am sure with the typos that I always seem to miss while proof reading. Please forgive them.

Thank you for Debby Edwardson, Debbie Reese, Linnea Hendrickson, Beverly Slapin, Kay Vandergrift, Sally Wilkins and all the others whose names I have temporarily forgotten who have addressed this question. Your recent posts (and some of you have posted previously) are not only helping me to think critically, but to feel critically.

I have no more answers than does Debby Edwardson, but I do have these comments:

As has been noted, once a book is awarded a Newbery, it's useless to attempt to "dislodge" it from its privileged position. It will always be part of the canon. And children will probably be watching Disney's "Pocahontas" for generations. This alone assures that we will be debating this topic in one form or another for a very long time. I will, however, bet that when it first arose (before I was a child_lit subscriber, or perhaps when these discussions were solely in print, not on computers), Michael Dorris' books had not yet been published. Their full effect is not yet felt. The children who are today reading Dorris' books and "Sarah Noble" (as well as watching "Pocahontas") are going to be adults in a world whose possibilities for instantaneous commication may even now be inconceivable to many of us. This doesn't mean that we are excused from our concerns or our deeply held convictions (or would even briefly consider ourselves thus), but it does mean that we truly can not predict all the outcomes. The leaders of the Civil Rights Movement and the Second Feminist Movement (to say nothing of Disability Rights and Gay Rights) did not have literature congenial to their experiences as children. One of the results of their efforts is that we do now have some literature congenial to diverse populations, written for children. Those of us disagreeing about "Sarah Noble," for example, are extending understanding and respect to each other. This may seem like a small thing, in a small forum--but in a world rent by vicious ethnic divisiveness, it is practically a miracle. What the hell am I trying to say? That the struggle will doubltess continue, but that there are now places (child_lit is but one) where the issues can be engaged internationally, instantaneously, with respect, attentiveness and kindness. Maybe I am trying to say I am so very grateful for this development.

These issues will not go away. We see them daily with various religious groups. They will broaden in scope. Dominique Sandis' observations about Palestinian children's books is one widening of that scope. Here's another, perhaps unexpected example. In Los Angeles we have a determined population of Animal Rights activists, a number of whom are not only vegans, but do not wear leather (or pearls). It's educational speaking to these individuals about children's books. (Talk about problems with "Charlotte's Web.") Not just books in which children eat hot dogs are painful for them. Books about circuses, animal fairs, and zoos are also painful. A notable few object to books in which people "own" animals, i.e., livestock and pets. Many do not want to expose their children to these books. Others feel that their children must know about these matters, but attempt to provide a pro-animal context for them. I choose this example for the very reason that it may seem marginal to some (some may even feel insulted that I would say animal and human concerns are, in some way, similar); but I believe it is not; and that those who hold these concerns will become more prominent in their requests or demands for representation, including in children's books (there are already some children's books that deal with animal testing and other similar concerns). It was not so long ago that many so-called minority concerns were considered marginal.

How we are going to harmonize diversity in its fullest context with democracy in its fullest context is a question that has never come up before in human history, as far as I know. At no other time have the needs of virtually every individual and group had to be somehow addressed by everyone, both those who currently hold the majority view (or impose the majority culture, to put it another way) and those who currently do not. No wonder it's so difficult--and so worth the struggle.

I am not really sure if this contributes something to this discussion or not. I guess I just had to say it. Hope some of this was worth it to those who have slogged through.

With the greatest respect,

Bravo, Linnea Hendrickson, Sally Wilkin, and Roger Sutton -- you've expressed the concerns of some of us (well, me, anyway) about censorship vs. selection, especially in the case of problematic literary works like _Sarah Noble_.

One plea, though -- could people posting *please* try to remember to add their email addresses along with their names? Not everyone's system shows the routing or email address of the original sender, which thus makes it impossible to reply offlist.

And, since one issue that's come up is balanced perspectives, I'd add that Debbie Reese's "Mom, Look! It's George, and He's a TV Indian!" in this month's _Horn Book_ provides invaluable information about picture books depicting Native Americans. (And Debbie, if you're reading this -- I didn't see Craig Strete's books mentioned anywhere in the article. Was this deliberate?)

I reread Sarah Noble as a result of this discussion, and frankly, I can see both sides of the argument. It does seem that the author's intent was to dispel stereotypes; those who made the rudest comments about Indians were certainly the most unsympathetic characters. However, it is also true that the author spends a lot more time protraying Indians as scary and dangerous than she spends dispelling that stereotype.

As a result, I am left with the feeling that this book should only be used with a lot of careful guidance from the teacher. It seems that Raven's teacher did not provide this kind of guidance . 8 Oct 1998
Chris Saad

Okay, but then what is the difference between censorship and selection? If I carry some adult books in my store because I think they will be interesting to adolescents but I neglect to carry the Starr Report (which also may be interesting to adolescents), am I selecting or censoring?

Keep in mind that no store or library can carry everything. I choose the books that I think will sell, but I also choose the books that I like. Since a librarian presumably has only limited funds, doesn't she also choose a)what the public will like, and b)what she herself likes? Is this censorship?

Linnea has again put her finger on the nub. I use CSN as I use "The Secret River". It is written for that transitional level- and yet is not a controlled vocabulary or generic "kids in the classroom" story. Even "Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet" and "Shadrach"- 2 more standbys, are harder. I have recently added Mahy's "Five Sisters" to my short list of proven titles. I have been back in the saddle now for only 3 years and would appreciate any other suggestions, especially from Native American or other points of view. I just remembered one of the authors at the Albuquerque USSBY conference saying that Ann Nolan Clark's books were good, at least of their time. Is my memory correct, Linnea? Anne "Librarian (like Stewardess, Certified Public Accountant, Used Car Salesman) is one of those occupations that people assume attract a certain deformed personality."

Several of you have asked about my earlier reference to Cullinan and Galda's book, _Literature and the Child_, which includes an excellent discussion of censorship and selection. The authors describe censorship as "an attempt to deny others the right to read something the censor thinks is offensive. Selection is the process of choosing appropriate materials for readers according to literary and educational judgments" (p. 409). They also include guidelines from NCTE that differentiate between censorship and selection: (1) Censorship excludes specific materials; selection includes specific materials to give breadth to collections. (2) Censorship is negative; selection is affirmative. (3) Censorship tends to control the reading of others; selection tends to advise the reading of others. (4) Censorship seeks to indoctrinate and limit access to ideas and information; selection seeks to educated and increase access to ideas and information. (5) Censorship looks at specific aspects and parts of a work in isolation; selection examines the relationship of parts to each other and to a work as a whole.

The citation for the book is . . . Cullinan, B. & Galda, L. (1998
). _Literature and the child_ (4th ed.). Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace College Publishers. ISBN: 0-15-503956-3

The 3rd edition (1994) also includes an excerpt from NCTE's (1982) document "The Students' Right to Read."

I hope this helps.

I have truly enjoyed following this thread; it is extremely thought provoking.

I remember as a child reading my mother's copy of Caddie Woodlawn and enjoying the book immensely. As a child, I did not know that the way the people were portrayed is stereotyped--anyone from Native Americans to the settlers themselves.

As an adult, I know the book has stereotypes in it and it would need to be used carefully in a classroom.

Sandra Yamate wrote "if one believes Sarah Noble has other redeeming features as a book, thenn one should make sure that the negative aspects could be countered by better examples from other books." This holds true for ANY book, not just _Sarah Noble_, _Huck Finn_, _Caddie Woodlawn_, _Knots on a Counting Rope_, _The Cay_, Uncle Remus stories which were just redone, books about wolves, etc. We need to go further though, and we need to point out perhaps why something may be harmful/hurtful to someone else.

For example, being a Southerner by birth, I tire of reading/hearing about the inbred/redneck/ uneducated/lazy/ no count and so on Southern good ol' boy or vaporous/flirtatious/strong/flighty/etc. Southern belle. Not that this is necessarily in children's literature, but in many places these stereotypes exists. (No comments about the President either, as I have heard a lot about him being from the backwoods of Arkansas.)

We as writers, teachers, future teachers, researchers, librarians, and parents (make that future for any of these categories, by the way) need to take the time to read books or articles which will help us understand why books may or may not be suitable. There are many references which we can use. One of these is one which was mentioned in an earlier post, _Through Indian Eyes_. I have used this book for years; I recommend it to colleagues, students--anyone who will listen to me. It is an excellent resource and I am glad to know it is in print again. (There is also a "workbook" published by the same authors or company I believe which is an EXCELLENT tool as well. I do not remember the name currently, and I am not at the office to look it up, but I remember it shows a great many stereotypes and pushes home several messages about books, workbooks, subliminal messages and open messages.)

There are other reference tools and resources for us to check, no matter what our cultural or racial heritage. We need to do so for ourselves and our students; if we are to be meaning makers as Gloria Pipkin wrote and for us to be able to give careful guidance as Chris Saad wrote, we need to be well educated. We need to understand the past and why things were written as they were (as Debby Edwardson said "...good books whose only crime may be that they succeeded in accurately portraying the mindset of an era, odious as it may be to a modern sensibility"); why this is not necessarily the way we should talk/write/read now in 1998
, as Sally Wilkins wrote "...we be historically accurate and deal with the reality that things have changed--we hope, in this case, for the better." But, if we haven't educated ourselves, we are unable to do this. We should not revise history, but we should be able to explain why calling a Southerner an inbred redneck is not necessarily good. We need to read and talk to others to understand.

Thanks for the forum to express this and to make me think.

Here is a copy of the post I originally sent. I have been a member of PAW for almost 20 years (incredible!). I first came across them when they had someone speaking on censorship issues at an ALA conference.

I want to tell you a story. I'll try to keep it short. Two years ago, when Janet King and I were conducting a workshop at the California Conference on American Indian Education in Sacramento, an Indian parent felt safe enough to speak in front of the group. She said that her daughter had recently come home from school, and went straight to her room, saying she didn't "feel well." The next day, she said she didn't want to go to school because she had a stomach ache. Her mother asked her what happened in school the day before, and the child told her that the class was reading "The Courage of Sarah Noble". At that point, the parent told us, she experienced a pain in her stomach because she remembered, when she was in third grade, that same feeling of humiliation that manifested itself in the pit of her belly. Her daughter didn't have to go to school that day, and the parent spoke with the teacher, who told her, "Lighten up=97it's just a book." The parent cried at this workshop, both for her child, herself, and the other Indian children who would have to suffer the same humiliation because of this book.

Now, I want to speake to some of your comments:

"This raises another massive philosophical question. If an author were to incorporate into a book set in the 1700s the understanding and knowledge that we have in the late 1990s, the book would be inaccurate and anachronistic."

Doris was not suggesting that "The Courage of Sarah Noble", set in the 1700s, incorporate "the understanding and knowledge that we have in the late 1990s." She's saying that the attitudes expressed therein are hurtful to children today, as they were when the book was published 40 years ago.

" Maybe in 1990 a friend doesn't call a woman "squaw," but in 1700 white people called Native women "squaw," and Native people used the word as the English translation of "woman.""

The word "squaw" is a corruption of parts of the words for "woman" in several Northeast Indian languages. It is not simply the English translation of "woman." It is considered derogatory today as it was when the book was published, and as it was used in the 1700s by some white people.

In 1998 the suggestion that a child would not question " whether or not to pray for other human beings seems ridiculous, but white people in the 1700s were still arguing about whether Native American and Africans were "fully human." Whether or not they had souls which could be saved was a very lively discussion among some Protestant theologians. By raising (and resolving) the question in Sarah's mind, Dalgliesh is showing something from the larger society and demonstrating the child's ability to make a reasonable assessment and judgment which is contrary to what she has heard. Now should we be historically inaccurate in order to comply with modern sensibilities? Or should we be historically accurate and deal with the reality that things have changed--we hope, in this case, for the better."

Whether or not this was a "lively discussion among Protestant theologians" of the time, having a white child protagonist considering whether or not Indian people are human is a harmful thing to stick into a third-grade book. It is not up to children to decide whether or not other children are human. Can you imagine the uproar over a young people's book in which a young protagonist considers whether Jewish (or read Black, or Latino, or Asian) people are human, and, after much soul-searching, decides that they might be after all?

" I have some other concerns with the review. The suggestion that people, especially children, don't substitute familiar names for difficult names is absurd. My children routinely call their friends by nicknames, don't yours? And if the friend's name is lengthy or difficult to pronounce, the nickname may be the anglicized version, or a diminutive, or something completely unrelated. My children have teachers whom they call "Mrs. Kay" or "Mr. Pom" because their names, Greek or Japanese or Polish or Welsh in origin, are tongue-twisters for American elementary school children, and this is not considered offensive or patronizing. It seems that by bestowing upon her Native friends names which were common and familiar, Sarah is seeing them as ordinary children, like herself. Or more accurately, that this is a detail the author is using to demonstrate Sarah's observation to her child-readers."

It's Sarah's father who is calling an Indian adult "Tall John," and then Sarah decides to call the children "Small John" and "Mary." There is no attempt to learn their real names.

"When my friend Muriel Dubois wrote _Abenaki Captive_ , one of the Native Americans asked by the publisher to vet the manuscript objected to a number of things which she felt made the Natives appear to be "savages." One was the scene of a number of hunters sitting around a fire in the middle of July, scraping hides and cooking down the meat which they were preparing to store for the winter. The men have no shirts on, and the expert objected that this perpetuated the "naked savages" stereotype--never mind the fact that when my husband has to work around a fire in New Hampshire the middle of July, he is shirtless. Another objection was that the Native Americans were portrayed as Catholics and the missionary priest in the village was a sympathetic character. Although the St. Francis Indians were 5th generation Catholics by the time of the story, the expert insisted that the characters should be portrayed as practicing their Native faith. And finally and most vehemently, the expert demanded that the scalping of a white hunter be removed from the book--scalping isn't really a Native tradition, she insisted, but a barbaric habit learned from European explorers, and we mustn't perpetuate those awful myths. Trouble is, the book was based on an actual event and there was in fact a red-haired scalp which was an important catalyst in the events."

Marge Bruchac, who is an Abenaki scholar and historian, will be reviewing "Abenaki Captive" for our next book, "A Broken Flute".

"The fact that we don't approve of history does NOT give us the right to revise it. It does give us -- all of us, writers and teachers, librarians and academics -- a heavy burden of responsibility in the ways we choose to present literature and history to the next generations."

I agree. Neither Doris nor I have ever suggested that history be revised. All we expect is for a story to be told honestly, and from multiple perspectives. Where is the Indian voice in "The Courage of Sarah Noble", and/or in so many young people's books?

" Layer on top of this the fact that the book in question is not simply set in a historic period far removed from our own but is also in itself an artifact of another time which is in some ways equally foreign to us and the whole discussion becomes even more complex. Must we only share with children books which conform to the sensibilities of our generation?"

Yes, "The Courage of Sarah Noble" is "an artifact of another time." It was an artifact when it was written and it is an artifact now. It has no place in a classroom of children who are too young to understand why they are so hated.

Must we, every decade or "so, purge the canon of anything that offends? Should there be a new Index of Condemned Books, not burned but flagged so that only those with the intellectual maturity to process them are allowed to take them out of the library?

Does Doris Seale really believe that the only literature we should share with children should be that which offers a sanitized and idealized version of the world? What of literature's historic role as a means of experiencing other realitites, of coming to terms with fears and other inner demons, of meeting and learning from people and places we can never encounter in the "real world" beyond the pages of the book."

I don't remember Doris ever saying, or even implying, anything like that.

Would it not be preferable to share a variety of views with "the children--views which reflect the reality that all people are fallable and prone to judging others whom they do not know, but that when we are open to one another we discover that there is much we share, and much we can learn from each other? Can't we teach that other people are no more or less human than we, simply different?"

I have yet to see a young people's book that portrays white people as savages, and a young Indian protagonist deciding that they may just be human, after all.

My heart aches for Raven and for other children who've been traumatized by books and movies. I don't think the answer is the removal of all such books from the library and classroom. Somehow there has to be a way to be both historically accurate and sensitive to contemporary issues at the same time. And always, always the needs of the child must be paramount. The burden is on the adult to anticipate and address potential hazards--and unfortunately we know not every adult who works with children is gifted or trained in this way. Which leads back directly to the purpose of studying and teaching children's literature, does it not?"

How "historically accurate" is showing only one perspective, that is, the white settler's perspective?

Finally, like it or not, there are some books that just need to be retired. "The Courage of Sarah Noble" is one of them. It's caused too many Indian kids to come home with stomach aches, and too many parents to remember their humiliation.

Beverly, did you intend your message to be for me alone or for the larger group? I haven't seen it on child_lit but I know sometimes I intend to reply to the list and my message goes only to the last sender. (If you meant to continue the discussion on the list I can forward the message there.)

It wasn't necessarily my intent to argue FOR _Sarah Noble_ per se but to question how we as writers and teachers should be handling fiction set in time periods with different expectations and beliefs.

For example, you point out that "squaw" is not a translation of "woman." True--it was not my intent to suggest that it was. I said it was a word white settlers used for Native women. It is the word Sarah would have used. Writing about a historical event (in this case a true story) or period, the author HAS to decide whether to be historically accurate or, in sensitivity to the potential hurt of a reader, to choose a 1990s-type expression. This is not unique to _Sarah_ or _Abenaki_ or even to books with Native American characters. It could be African Americans or Asian Americans or any other group. That was the issue I was trying to raise in my comments.

You say "It is not up to children to decide whether or not other children are human." I would submit to you that children in our schools may well be faced, as Sarah was, with situations in which their experience tells them one thing while their cultures, their families, tell them something else. That some children in America today are still taught to think of other groups as less- human-than-we-are, and that one of the functions of literature is to challenge those assumptions and empower children to make decisions of their own.

A couple of years ago I was discussing this history/story issue with Irene Hector Smalls. She wants to write a book about the time a boatload of slaves walked into the sea and drowned rather than allow themselves to be sold. It is a wrenching story, even sitting in a well-lit room listening to her tell it, and in a picture book it may well be horrifying. Irene believes, for a number of reasons, that it is a story which should be told, painful though that may be. Of course Irene can do it if anyone can, not only because she's African- American but because she is Irene.

You also said "All we expect is for a story to be told honestly, and from multiple perspectives. Where is the Indian voice in "The Courage of Sarah Noble", and/or in so many young people's books? " and "I have yet to see a young people's book that portrays white people as savages, and a young Indian protagonist deciding that they may just be human, after all."

The reality of book publishing in America is that it is virtually impossible to sell a children's manuscript with multiple viewpoints (although Muriel was able to do it well in _Abenaki_ -- but that's for older readers). Publishers are also hesitant, if not resistant, to publish books by people writing outside their own ethnic backgrounds. I could never sell an "Indian" perspective manuscript--there's not enough Penobscot left in me to pass the "authenticity test." Black writers write books about black kids, Asian writers write books about asian kids, and Native writers are going to have to write books about native kids. (Annie O'Brien is constantly having to defend herself for illustrating _Jouanah_ and reminding people that she grew up in Korea.) I happen to think this is a Bad Thing (tm) which leads to increased division rather than appreciation. The next logical step would be that only men will be able to write boy books and women write girl books, and we won't have any more books featuring rabbits or squirrels or turtles (which, to judge from Janet's tale from the trenches, would be satisfactory from the Animal-rights folks' point of view). I'd love to have some suggestions of good picture books from the Indian community. I have _People of the Breaking Day_, but Marcia Sewall is not, I think, Indian, and the book is more non-fiction than fiction.

Ironically, Disney attempted the "Indians remarking on the savageness of the white invaders" in _Pocohantas_, but the movie was so bad in so many ways that any possible value in the effort was probably lost.

I think it would be supremely difficult to incorporate multiple perspectives in most works of fiction. Switching back and forth tends to take the reader out of the realm of the fictive world, reminding him or her that it's "just a story." What is not unreasonable is to expect that teachers will present a wide variety of books to their classes and address any stereotypes and prejudices contained in them directly.

It's pretty clear that you're not going to be persuaded that _Sarah Noble_ has a place in children's libraries today, and I'm not going to try. My concern is not with a specific book but with the implications of the process of eliminating "hurtful" books when history is, historically, "hurtful."

As I read the posts on censorship and selection, I find myself remembering something the poet W.H. Auden once said, which went, I vaguely recall, something like this: "Erotica is pornography you approve of." All that fancy dancing and linguistic bafflegab in the effort to distinguish censorship from selection suggests a parallel pronouncement: "Selection is censorship you approve of." Or perhaps, "Censorship is selection you don't approve of?"

I hasten to add that I'm not wanting to attack the idea that selection is necessary or unavoidable. Of course it is. My point is just that: that the choosing of books is always necessary, and will always mean that some will get chosen and that some will not--and that it is always possible for someone else to interpret an act the selector understands as merely an act of selection as in fact an act of censorship.

Nor do I think it possible ever to arrive at some final pronouncement about whether any particular act of choosing to include or not to include a book in a library or a classroom, or on a publisher's list or in a store, is an act of selection or an act of censorship. It seems to me that this is a question of who has the power to decide which of the two it is. In one of the posts on this subject, Roger Sutton says, "If I let you ditch or ignore Sarah Noble, doesn't that mean I also have to do right by the many people who think Daddy's Roommate harmful to children, and antithetical to proper values?" The answer to Roger's questions is, I think, "Yes--if you have or can get the power to make your decision stick, then you do indeed have that right." And if you can't, you don't. Deselecting Sarah will be a negative act of censorship if enough people object to it; and dumping Daddy will be an affirmative act of selection if enough people approve of it.

In others words, what's censorship and what selection is a matter of negotiation, of politics, of persuading enough people--and will always be so. I suspect we'd be further ahead in these matters if we all acknowledged that. No matter how brilliantly we might argue for our own positions on these matters, we aren't likely to persuade those with strong convictions different from our own. What we need to do then, if we believe in our convictions and wish them to have power and more ability to influence the lives of children, is to gather power for them in every way we can think of and wield it as necessary.

I intend to do that for my own position, here and elsewhere. And that position is simply this: we adults should do everything in our power to encourage children to be aware, sensitive, intelligent, critical readers, beginning in their cradles--and then, we should have the courage and trust to leave the children free--free to choose their own books and feel their own emotions and arrive at their own conclusions and fight their own battles over what they read. We cannot make the world a better place for children than we ourselves know it to be by keeping silent about or even lying about the things we ourselves know and don't like. Indeed, I suspect, the attempt by adults to shield children from things the adults are too cowardly or vulnerable to accept and try to deal with causes more problems than honesty and openness ever did. Knowledge is always a good thing, never a bad one--it's never, I'm convinced, too early for a child to know about anything that's part of the human experience, anything at all. A child who doesn't know about the possibilities of evil is never going to learn how to cope with it when he or she actually experiences it, in himself or herself or in others, as he or she inevitably will, even in nursery school.

Or in other words: I, the all-powerful King Perry the first, see all selection, even or especially all "affirmative" attempts "to advise the reading of others," as a form of censorship. I also see it as inevitable--no library can buy or hold every book there is, and every library, public or otherwise, will represent publicly popular and acceptable ideas about what libraries ought ot contain. And therefore, I conclude, support for unpopular ideas and books and the right of children and others to have access to them and reach their own conclusions about them will always be the most pressing concern of wise people--i.e., people like me, the king--who truly care about the intellectual and moral welfare of children and others. You may now kneel.

By the way: the special censorship issue of the journal CCL, Canadian Children's Literature, including my own "We Are All Censors," is available on the internet:

I understand why some adults may be upset by the fact that children are portrayed with guns in the books, but children should be brought up to understand that not all people live cosy "safe" constitution-protected lives and are forced to come to arms from a young age. The readers should be explained why and how they came to have to hold guns and live in fear and terror depending on the situations at hand.

This is the kind of close-minded censorship that I am coming to despise...why not show how other cultures live? Should we just look at our own and other "safely-written" books of other cultures?

Not to mention children who live "constitution-protected lives" in this country and who don't live in safe environments, also taking-up arms at a young age. These readers could gain a great deal by reading about people in other countries who have comparable experiences.

In a recent post regarding "Sarah Noble" Beverly Slapin wrote:
I have yet to see a young people's book that portrays white people as savages, and a young Indian protagonist deciding that they must be human after all.

I haven't seen a book that quite fits this bill either--but I can think of one that comes close, Lawrence Yep's Dragonwings. I bring this text up because my experience teaching it seems to reinforce, at least for me, many of the points Beverly and others have been raising about how painful or offensive it can be to see your own culture misrepresented.

Briefly, Dragonwings is the story of a young Chinese boy's (about 9 years old) experience immigrating to San Francisco at the turn of the century. He is initially afraid of and a bit hostile toward whites. The tales his relatives have told him about their experiences in the US (which include lynchings and street assaults) are terrifying. He has heard tell white sailors eat Chinese, etc. He refers to European Americans as "demons."

Although Yep is careful to point out that the Chinese idea of demon is different than the Western idea of demons (Chinese demons are magical and unpredictable--but they may do you either good or ill), every time I have assigned this book in a college level children's literature course, I have had white students complain about the "racism" or "prejudice" in the text. They do no like being referred to as demons. They are not sympathetic with the young protagonist's point of view--they think he is wrong to label them in such cruel, or even evil ways. Although such reactions arise from only a minority of the students, they arise very regularly.

Has anyone else had a similar experience with this book? I hadn't thought, until reading Beverly's post, about what a good teaching moment this could be! Usually I ask students to reread the section where Yep explains what "demon" means in Chinese cultural, but I may now take this examination even further and use it as a springboard to discuss the problems of literary stereotypes (even historically accurate ones) and what the consequences of using them with readers of all ages can be.

P.S. After living several years in the US and making friends with white adults and children, the young Chinese protagonist does, indeed, decide that whites are human after all (in fact they may be Chinese people reincarnated!)

Megan said --

every time I have "assigned this book in a college level children's literature course, I have had white students complain about the "racism" or "prejudice" in the text. They do not like being referred to as demons. They are not sympathetic with the young protagonist's point of view--they think he is wrong to label them in such cruel, or even evil ways. Although such reactions arise from only a minority of the students, they arise very regularly."

Exactly. Nobody likes being demonized. The only difference is, Native children are regularly demonized, in textbooks, literature, curricula, ads, TV cartoons and sitcoms and dramas, sports teams, everywhere.

"but I may now take this examination even further and use it as a springboard to discuss the problems of literary stereotypes (even historically accurate ones) and what the consequences of using them with readers of all ages can be."

Good; it needs to be done.

Megan Isaacs writes: ----- "[In Yep's _Dragonwings_, the main character] refers to European Americans as "demons.""

Although Yep is careful to point out that the Chinese idea of demon is different than the Western idea of demons (Chinese demons are magical and unpredictable--but they may do you either good or ill), every time I have assigned this book in a college level children's literature course, I have had white students complain about the "racism" or "prejudice" in the text. They do no like being referred to as demons. They are not sympathetic with the young protagonist's point of view--they think he is wrong to label them in such cruel, or even evil ways. Although such reactions arise from only a minority of the students, they arise very regularly.

Has anyone else had a similar experience with this book?

Yes, almost every time I teach it. Like Megan, I ask students to consider Yep's explanation of the term "demon", especially in light of power issues. Usually, this prompts reconsideration of the term and the protagonist's use of it.

And Megan quoted Beverly Slapin as saying:

"I have yet to see a young people's book that portrays white people as savages, and a young Indian protagonist deciding that they must be human after all."

Although it's been a while since I've read it, doesn't Dorris's _Guests_ show a Native American's perspective and a less than complimentary picture of the white settlers? (Not as savages, admittedly, but as ignorant.)

Deirdre:

It's been a while since I've read "Guests" too, but the perspective as I remember it was sorta like "their manners are different from ours, and I don't understand what he's saying," but it doesn't really go farther than that.

By the way, what I said was, "I have yet to see a young people's book that portrays white people as savages, and a young Indian protagonist deciding that they "may" be human, after all."

So many fascinating posts lately, one hardly knows where to but in first!

I agree with Sanjay and Perry (and I think someone else?) that the difference between censorship and selection, for any practical purpose at least, is semantic, though I suppose it makes us feel better to cast it in a positive light. Sort of off the subject but not really (you'll see), this brings to mind the often quoted cliche that "one person's terrorist is another person's freedom fighter," which always irritates me no end because it misses the point, mixes apples and pears, is, in fact, a dishonest use of language--terrorism is a method, nothing to do with its ultimate end. It is quite possible to be a freedom-fighting terrorist. Yet "terrorist" has, in common parlance, come to be used basically as a synonym for "nasty person" or "the bad guy," hence the hesitation to use it about people whose ultimate goals you approve of. And this, just to jump to another fascinating debate, is, I think, the main point John Gough has been making about Phillip Pullman's article--Pullman seems to be using most of his "criticisms" of Lewis primarily as insults (Gough gave the example of the word "reactionary," but many of the adjectives Pullman used had a slightly rabid tone), rather than reasoned arguments. So although I can understand the criticisms of the Narnia chronicles (oh, but I loved them as a child, before I had a clue about Christian or any other symbolism) when they are expressed in measured tones (that's you, Sanjay), I must admit that Pullman's article immediately raised my hackles (if I have any--what the heck are they?). The overwhelming impression left by the article was a personal attack on the man rather than a critique of his work. We SHOULD be suspicious of rhetoric without examples. This, in turn (I said this would be rambling), brings me to a question that I think comes up here fairly regularly though is perhaps not always articulated--should we be quite as severe as we are nowadays on writers who, after all, were fairly representative of their time, class, and social group (this is something Sanjay has brought up often and perspicaciously)? We, of course, live in enlightened times (I don't know how to do those little keyboard winks and things, so just take this with a grain of satire) and know what is right and what is wrong (sometimes); but it took us a long time to get here, and it is hard enough acting enlightened in these relatively favorable circumstances, when it is not too difficult to find other enlightened people--should we blame members of previous generations for not in every case breaking their molds? I think we should criticize the work--look at it with our modern eyes; but never hide it or throw it away, or forget what it grew out of (Consider the source, I've told my children, whether they are reading the newspaper, textbooks, or literature). Otherwise, how can we train our children to think, analyze, be on guard? (You see I've come back to censorship/selection again). As a child I used to skip over the casual anti-female, anti-Semitic, anti-other minority references often found in older literature but opposite to what I had been taught at home (though probably missed many more insidious and therefore much more warping assumptions); I knew those old authors back then simply didn't know any better (though Ivanhoe was definitely Too Much). Well, now I know that some of them probably COULD have known better--but this reinforces my belief in the importance of SHOWING children this, showing them history with ALL its warts (and not just the trendy ones), showing them that racism and other bad things are not something belonging to a particular author, which can be avoided simply by avoiding that author, but part of a whole climate, something that was, and, I think on my pessimistic days, still is pretty prevalent. Ignorance in this case is not bliss, but dangerous. This is why I am a little worried about Beverly Slapin's recommendation to buy only contemporary and traditional literature for classroom libraries (though her literate and well-reasoned posts could never make ME an enemy--the opposite!). The more reading experience of the wide (and not always pretty) varieties of human experience a child has, the better prepared she or he will be to cope with its uglier manifestations in real life (no, no, I won't bring in the bibliotherapy thread). So I must agree with Gloria Pipkin (whose views I do NOT find irreconciable with those of Sanjay, by the way--difference of emphasis, perhaps). This does not preclude, of course, considering very carefully what texts should be read together in class, the questions that should be raised about them, how they may affect individual members of the class, how certain books can be balanced with others. Here, I'm back to selection again. And censorship. But I think I will forego the kitchen sink after all--it's after midnight.

Sorry for this very long and probably incoherent post (and excess of parenthetical remarks)--desperate attempt to respond to too many very tempting threads.

In response to Martha Grenzeback's comment: "I agree with Sanjay and Perry (and I think someone else?) that the difference between censorship and selection, for any practical purpose at least, is semantic, though I suppose it makes us feel better to cast it in a positive light..."

Selection is a process based on rational and justifiable criteria in the light of your library's mission and clientele(or educational objectives). Censorship is based on personal prejudices, likes and dislikes.

Selection **practically** tries to build and promote and make available quality resources. Censorship denies to others access to books, resources.

Of course the practicality of choice and finance also means that some are not chosen. Surely we all have to be aware of our own limitations/prejudices/personal concerns and be honest about the ways these may influence our decision making when we select.

Ok, everyone, I gotta jump in here:

(1) Why is it that there are far more "children's books about Indians" by non-Native writers than there are children's books by Indian authors? Could that have something to do with "censorship" at the publisher level?

(2) Why is it that children's books by Native authors are rarely reviewed in the journals, especially when they are published by Indian-owned or other small presses? Could that have something to do with "censorship" at the journal level?

(3) Why is it that children's books by Native authors are rarely looked at by prize committees, unless the Native authors have risen to the level of "superstars"? Yet, "children's books about Indians" by non-Native authors win prizes all the time. Could that have to do with "censorship" at the prize committee level?

(4) Finally, I invite you to name more than ten excellent Native authors of books for young readers. There are many more. Could this have someting to do with "censorship" at all levels?

15 Oct 1998
Beverly Slapin

Martha and list:

Well, I've certainly been called worse than literate and well-reasoned, or are you describing my posts and not me? I've never recommended that collections include only contemporary and traditional literature; that response was to a request for advice from a teacher-to-be about how to build a multicultural collection for her classroom. With a limited budget, why buy dreck (like, for instance, some of the titles we've been discussing)? If the question were different times, say, "What do I do with a classroom set of Sign of the Beaver" or "Indian in the Cupboard?" my answer would be different.

Comments on some of P Jones (snipped)

P Jones: Selection is a process based on rational and justifiable criteria in the light of your library's mission and clientele(or educational objectives).

SS: That's it, though. How can we ever be sure? What seem to be the "rational and justifiable" criteria/mission/clientele/objectives of one group at one time often turn out to be thought to be irrational and unjustifiable by another group at another time (or even erased voiceless ones at the same time). It's a means of "guidance" for the target (the freedom-fighter), *just* as censorship (the terrorist) sets out to be. *Both* "guidance"/"exposure to" (selection) *and* "deciding for"/"protection of" (censorship) are institutionalised social means to avowedly benevolent ends which impinge on the "target group", hence they end up being two sides of the same coin.

PJ :Censorship is based on personal prejudices, likes and dislikes.

SS: On *group* prejudices, likes and dislikes, too, possibly. We're talking about institutionalised social practices here (not private people pursuing individual agendas/agenda), I *think*.

PJ: Selection **practically** tries to build and promote and make available quality resources. Censorship denies to others access to books, resources.//Of course the practicality of choice and finance also means that some are not chosen.

SS: Who defines what is "(high) quality"? - "Experts", i.e. a group, which will have a set of values which might (and always will, for political reasons) purport to be that of the group for which they choose, but may *not* be. The "not choosing" part is where the line between censorship on purpose and censorship by default (selection) could occur. Everybody's *intentions* are always good and pure and for the best interests of all. Nobody "censored" _Nariya_, they just did not select it, and so let it die/be extinct.

NB. I wish I had the *language* to express what I feel here - I'm aiming to say something that seems clear to me and ending up using stale, trite analogies and images. Forgive me. Sanjay Sircar PS. I apologised immediately to John Gough for saying _Anatomy_ for _Allegory of L_: slip of the pen/mind. PPS Martha Grenzeback has put her finger on a link between areas: "censorship"/"selection" are librarianship-words, "setting texts"/"choice" for formal study education-words; yet the same/similar social forces operate in these (of course allied, institutional) areas, as well as in that of literary study (inasmuch as that is distinct from them). PPPS. Better outright insults like Pullman's - where "reactionary" etc signal his stance boldly, than hidden, slippery, apparently sweetly reasonable ones, no? Polemical journalism is not scholarship/argument - it aims to gran the attention of the reader in anyway it can - that's its nature. Did you want him to give footnotes as well as chapter-and-verse and reference-to-context? Nobody'd print it (I tried doing just these as an experiment *in frothy lightweight journalism*, children's-literature-related with _Vogue Australia_, once; no go). He wanted to grab attention (via oldhat claims in new bottles,) and he succeeded.

Beverly,

I sat down, challenged by your query, trying to come up with more than 10 excellent Native American authors of books for children and young people, and I must say I have difficulty coming up with many more than ten. Of course, the authors' ethnicity is not always known. I have used _Through Indian Eyes_ with my students and as a resource for my own use, and I am always seeking authentic books by and about Native Americans. Most of the authors I have come up with have few books. I hope that you will help all of us on the list to discover authors you think we should know about.

I've talked to small press publishers here in New Mexico about the publishing of books by Native American and Hispanic writers (another ethnic group that is under-represented in children's literature), and I've been told they are always actively seeking such authors, and also that they have a hard time competing with the big publishers for them.

As a member of last year's Caldecott committee, I would have loved to have seen some books by Native American authors. I did receive many books from small presses, and several books, mainly (all?) folktales re-told by non-Native authors. If a small press can't afford to send books to all members of award committees, sending one copy to the committee chair should be enough to bring the book to the attention of the group. One author sent her book to me along with a postage paid return mailer, asking me to please return it to her, which I did. I was quite touched that she had done that, and gave her book more careful attention than I gave some that came in large shipments from major publishers.

Others can probably speak to this issue better than I can, but I know the question of why more Native American authors are not writing and telling their own stories has very complex answers, many of them rooted in cultural traditions that are very different from those of a European culture that values individualism above all.

Part of the reason there are not more books is also, I am sure, for some of the reasons you've suggested, and that have been touched on in some of the discussions on this list. Folktales set in a distant past are O.K. and non-threatening, and let us think of Indians in an idealized and romanticized past -- the sense that the Indians belong to the past and are long gone was one of many things that disturbed me so deeply about Jeffers' book, a book that along with Ten Little Rabbits troubles me more than the racism in books of an earlier time.

Anyway, here's my "quick and dirty" list, popped off the top of my head. A few of the authors are older ones, no longer living, whose work I read years ago when I lived on the Navajo Reservation.

1. Michael Lacapa, 2. Shonto Begay, 3. Virginia Driving-Hawk Sneve, 4. Simon Ortiz, 5. Luci Tapahonso, 6. Sherman Alexie, 7. Michael Dorris, 8.Joseph Bruchac, 9. N. Scott Momaday, 10. Natachee Scott Momaday, 11. Emerson Blackhorse Mitchell, 12. Kay Bennett, 13. George Littlechild, 14. M. Roessel, 15. Michael Kusugak, 16. Te Ata

All this, having just returned home from a talk by Gerald McDermott :-).

Final PS: Whether adult/expert authority selects "the best" material by its standards to expose children to, in order avowedly to expand their minds; or whether adult/expert authority filters out "the worst" material in order avowedly to protect them from hurt, psychological harm, moral contamination etc.; in *both* cases one powerful group is choosing to do something *for* and *to* another, powerless one _for what it thinks to be the good_ of that powerless group, which is *not* making its own decisions about it. In both cases, of course, there will be an appeal to self-evidently "universal" standards of good and bad.

But authorities, adults, and experts change, and gain and lose power; and as they change, the "best" can easily turn into the "worst" - see "S. Noble", endorsed via a prize once not so long ago (a prize which did not specify that it was for being good for white children only, but for its general "target group" of all national children), but now seen as *always* having been hurtful for that "target group" in one way or another (prejudice-causing/hurt-causing).

I myself feel like clutching poor "SN" to my bony emaciated bosom and saying, "There, there, they *shan't* hurt you, poor little orphaned defenceless thing, that they shan't; you set awhile right here along of me in my rocking chair and we'll hide you; your time will come again, if *only* as an awful example of well-meaning but hurtful naivete, and how cultural perspectives change very fast"; BUT I also feel that Ms B Slapin's questions on whether censorship or selection resulted in a particular set of items (marked by ethnicity of authorship) about one theme/subject being widely available and another set (likewise marked) as *not* being as widely available to be very apropos the topic. Sanjay Sircar ("Retold-by", a wonderful phrase, can occur from *within* a community as well as from outside it - caveat emptor.)

Beverly Slapin wrote:

"(1) Why is it that there are far more "children's books about Indians" by non-Native writers than there are children's books by Indian authors? Could that have something to do with "censorship" at the publisher level?"

Yes, probably.

"(2) Why is it that children's books by Native authors are rarely reviewed in the journals, especially when they are published by Indian-owned or other small presses? Could that have something to do with "censorship" at the journal level?"

Yes, probably.

(3) Why is it that children's books by Native authors are rarely looked at by prize committees, unless the Native authors have risen to the level of "superstars"? Yet, "children's books about Indians" by non-Native authors win prizes all the time. Could that have to do with "censorship" at the prize committee level?"

Yes, probably.

"(4) Finally, I invite you to name more than ten excellent Native authors of books for young readers. There are many more. Could this have someting to do with "censorship" at all levels?"

Yep.

As one who has, though time and experience, developed something of a bi-cultural perspective, I'd like to offer another explanation to the above. This may sound like nonsense, but I truely believe that the Native sensibility (perspective?) in terms of art and storytelling is different than the White sensibility. The aesthetics differ (not always, of course, but often enough.) Since Native representation at major publishing houses and jounals is slim, this means that stories which reflect a more Native aesthtic/perspective often fail to find advocates. I'm sure this is true of other minorities as well.

One solution to this is for the Native community to sponser a major prize as the African American community has done with the Coretta Scott King award (a major PR coup, IMHO). Publishers watch this award closely, I suspect, as do libraries and journals.

This is one way of setting a standard different from what currently dominates the market. It also has the potential of changing attitudes broadening tastes.

Paula writes:

"Selection is a process based on rational and justifiable criteria in the light of your library's mission and clientele(or educational objectives). Censorship is based on personal prejudices, likes and dislikes."

That is encouraging to think, especially if one is called upon to do selection, but "rational," "justifiable" -- these are terms that are too some degree relative. Everyone who says that we should avoid certain kinds of books because it is injurious to young children's minds *seems* to be using "rational" and "justifiable" criteria -- but often, this is just a cover. What is really meant is that, in the personal opinion of the speaker, a certain kind of book will have a negative effect on children. Well and good --- if I believe (as I do not) that it injures children's minds to suggest that homosexuality is a natural and acceptable gender preference, then I have a rational and justifiable criterion for *not* selecting it. To circle back to the discussion of "stereotypes": Beverly says we shouldn't carry books that present Indians as "savages" because it is injurious to young Native Americans who see themselves in a negative light, and promotes prejudicial stereotypes in the minds of readers of other races. This appears to be a sound, rational basis for *not* selecting the book. But wait! Someone else says, after all, that was the way that white people saw Indians at the time in which the book is set. Since it is historically accurate, and historical accuracy is a positive virtue, there is a sound, rational basis for selecting the book. Someone else points out that the character in the novel learns to overcome their prejudices, so the book actually could lead some readers to reject stereotypes -- again, a sound, rational basis for selecting the book, and one that is diametrically opposed, not to say contradictory, to Beverly's initial position. After all, how can you show people overcoming prejudice if you're not allowed to show anyone with prejudices in the first place? As in most arguments about "values," there is a tendency to use negative terms to describe that with which we disagree and positive terms for that with which we agree. Thus, no contradiction appears when a legislator of a particular persuasion campaigns for "family values" which include pushing legislation that would require poor women with young children to leave those children in day care so that they may work at minimum-wage jobs, because a more humane welfare system would, of course, be "anti-family." And supporters of abortion rights are "pro-choice" because that sounds better than being "anti-life," while their opponents are "pro-life" because ditto for "anti-choice." Censorship is a matter of declaring that certain values are more important than others, and enforcing those values by restricting access to ideas that challenge those values. Selection criteria involve some decisions about the valuation of materials for a library (and some such criteria are a must, since nobody can buy every book that comes out in a given year). But even criteria about "literary merit," etc., can be very effectively used to censor. Once upon a time, many librarians refused to select the books of L. Frank Baum, despite their popularity, on the rational grounds that they were poorly written, hack work really. Now, of course, being more enlightened, we see Baum as the creator of an integrated imaginary world (as one recent critic argues); his books are classics, and certainly we will want them in our library. The truth is, sometimes words *do* hurt, even if they are in the context of a literary classic. I can remember reading *The Merchant of Venice* in high school; there were some Jewish students in our class, and I can only imagine how they responded to the treatment of Shylock (of course, in that unenlightened time, few people would dare to challenge the reading assigned to them). And "nigger" in *Huckleberry Finn* clearly offends some black readers; I know this, because they have said so in public, and I am in no position to question the integrity of their statements. So, too, years of being seen as "savages" (even if it is sometimes qualified as "noble savages") has made some Native Americans justifiably sensitive to this term. It is "rational" to try to avoid intentional affronts to another person -- but it is still censorship when we seek to avoid including materials that cause such affronts in our libraries. Keep on telling yourselves that selection is not censorship, if that makes you feel good. But it would be more rational and justifiable to acknowledge that what looks like innocuous selection might very well appear to someone with a different set of values, or a different prioritization of the same values, to be censorship, and vice versa. As I argued in this space a couple of years back, we might consider the possibility that there are both good/acceptable and bad/unacceptable kinds of censorship, and then talk fairly about the values that we are upholding, rather than throwing that hurtful word ("censor" now, not "savage," "nigger," "honkie") at one another.

Debbie:

E'he! Sometimes I get really tired of people who say, "Native people are just going to have to write their own books" and such as that. The fact is, for some of the reasons you stated, Native people are writing, but large publishers prefer "retold-bys" that have had the "Indian" taken out. I could name dozens of such....

More later, gotta go.

Margaret Denman-West, PhD

Question. Is there also a similar lack of children's books written by Hispanic autors? I know there are some, even award winning illustrators, but, are their numbers as small? I know that Isabel Schon has provided bibliographies and kept them current, but, if I remember correctly, there are more titles written in Spanish and translated into English, i.e. less likely to be easily located in publishes catalogs. Thank goodness for the recently established Pura Belpre Award, perhaps we will soon my concern expressed above will no longer exists, that is, if it does, in fact, exist. Correct me if I am wrong ( I have no problem being "wrong.".

Hi all,

I'm a new member to the list. I'm Finnish and I'm currently working on my master's thesis, which deals with some aspects of ideology in the language of picture storybooks for 2-7-y-olds).

Now, about the below, at the risk of sounding naive I'd like to point out that there are lots more non-Native people in the US than there are Native people. Also, I understand that non-Natives have an easier time with getting a proper education and that writing children's literature is not really a prominent part of (any) Native culture. I'm not saying that there's no censorship; I'm just pointing out that other factors are probably more powerful in regulating who gets her/his voice heard.

Someone (I think it was Roger Sutton) once wrote (I paraphrase): If you have nothing in your library collection that makes you uncomfortable, you are probably practicing censorship, not selection.

It is very interesting to listen to the debate about censorship and selection as an intellectual exercise. It has been sifting around in my head for a few days, and I think the issue is too tied to a set of ideals. In the "front line" of the public library desk, those perfect ideals have to be applied to imperfect circumstances by imperfect people. The days are gone when the librarian told the populace what was good for them to read. Now we have a more "retail" outlook; customer satisfaction, selling the customer on a title we think is good, doing programs and