In My Library

Origins of Story

Year to year in various places with various themes, various people get together to discuss what unifyingly has a hold on them — children’s books.

The annual convocations are put on by Children’s Literature New England, an organization whose mission is to “examine topics in literature and to give those who teach and create books for young readers the opportunity to reaffirm the value of their work”. [1]  They want to think about and celebrate children’s books together.

In this book, Origins of Story, CLNE board members Barbara Harrison and Gregory Maguire present a collection of presentations from past institutes, all by authors. Because of the variety there is no doubt something in the book for everyone.

I flipped through the pages to recall some of the highlights for me. I was mostly noting those general, overarching comments — how authors spend time seeing the world foremost, and then (with much labor) write their reflections vividly and with meaning.

As a timid want-to-be writer, I found this thought by Madeleine L’Engle particularly encouraging: “Perfectionism, like consumerism, is one of the great cripplers. If I have to do something perfectly I’ll probably not do it at all, in case I fail. Maybe it’s a good thing I was such a failure as a schoolchild, because accepting failure has freed me to take risks…it’s human to be fallible…what I learn from is my mistakes, not the things I do right.” (pg. 109)


List of authors represented in the collection:

Gillian Cross, Sharon Creech, Maurice Sendak, Sarah Ellis, Gregory Maguire, Susan Cooper, Pat O’Shea, Betty Levin, Tom Feelings, John Rowe Townsend, Madeleine L’Engle, Virginia Hamilton, Jill Paton Walsh, Barbara Harrison, Margaret Mahy, Ursula Le Guin, Katherine Paterson

In My Library

The Invisible Child by Katherine Paterson

I took an unexpected trip to Latvia this summer. My sister and brother-in-law are adopting, and I was asked to join them on a trip to visit the children. I’ll let you to imagine the heartwrenches of visiting an orphanage.
On my way out the door to my flight I grabbed Paterson’s Invisible Child off my bookshelf for travel reading, and it turned out to be a timely choice. Katherine Paterson’s fiction for children has looked hard in the face that this world groans; everything is not all right here (see her books Bridge to Terabithia, or The Great Gilly Hopkins for instance).

In this collection of speeches and essays she reflects on her career and what moves her to do the kind of writing that she does. For all the lonely, misunderstood, despised, the fearful, for those longing for approval and love, for those deeply wounded and looking for hope – these are the children to whom Katherine writes. In other words humans (be it young ones). But for all their hurts, there is meaning in the universe; she wants her readers to know that, and perhaps by means of a story she can help them see it.