For letter or for worse
May 23, 2004 | 12:00am
I recently had the opportunity to sit in on a forum hosted by the Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators (SCBW & I). The naive might think that given the seemingly innocent and innocuous nature of the work produced by such a group, the forum would have a sun-drenched Happy Days quality to it, and one couldn’t be more wrong. Despite the specific genre these people work in (or perhaps, precisely because of it), what I walked into was a seething cauldron of immense pride in their work, frustration over the paucity of resources and support, and the age-old dilemma of marrying art with commercial viability. Impassioned as they were, there was naïveté/idealism and bottom line sensibilities clashing for pre-eminence throughout the discussion.
When I arrived, it was Ani Rosa Almario of Adarna House holding forth. Daughter of National Artist Virgilio Almario, Ani heads the Product Development section of their family publishing concern. She had just returned from England, the London Book Fair; where the British Council had sent her as the Philippine representative for Young Publisher of the Year (the Mexican delegate eventually took home the honors). Immensely envious of the rich reading culture to be found in countries such as England and Japan, she decried the manner in which parents, care-givers and teachers here were downplaying the written word, ready to "hide" behind the child’s fascination with TV and computer games.
Adarna has always made it a mission statement to foster indigenous children’s literature. When they were offered to do the licensed Walt Disney and Pokemon books, they idealistically declined, feeling it would be straying from what they had sought to accomplish. Even the lucrative temptation of entering the "textbook" field has been resisted. A couple of years ago, Adarna made the bold move of creating a book whose title character was a dyslexic super hero/boy. Entitled XILEF (Felix spelled backwards), it was supported by Museo Pambata and while very proud of the book, Ani confessed sales figures weren’t much to crow about. Recently, they optioned a book that had to do with living in separate homes, as parents have split up. Five, 10 years ago, this would have been taboo; the mere thought of creating children’s books of this sort would have raised objections from staid, unrealistic parents who only wanted their children sheltered or cocooned from the harsher side of life. Plus, let’s face it, this sort of books can be published, but will they be picked up from the shelves?
Someone commented that given the innovative work publishers like Adarna have been doing to push the envelope insofar as children’s literature was concerned, it was a shame that only the A-B families had the luxury of children picking the books they liked. Ani quickly countered that it was dangerous to generalize, and qualification had to be made. From what she sees during visits to establishments such as Fully Booked and Powerbooks, it still was parents who dictated choice, and when they weren’t around, it was even the yaya who might decide. As a father of three boys, I can support that view. Each of my boys will bring me four to five books at any one time, pleading I get them all. More often that not, I will peruse the covers and make decisions on which to get and how many of them, sometimes even insisting on a particular book I feel would impart more to them.
And there lies the crux of the problem. These books have been designed for the child, the enjoyment to be found therein is not necessarily something an adult can relate to; yet what is the purchasing and selection power of said child? And more important, what is the environment of the child, does it even foster a love for books and of reading outside the school? It truly requires us, as parents, adults, whatever, to remember the value of reading and taking the time to impart that knowledge and love to our children and/or wards. As a parent, when was the last time you sat with your child on your lap and read to him or her? Have you practically surrendered that responsibility to teachers and/or yayas? If the trend now is for wordless books, how well can communication and interaction between child and book be created without our participation? Should we trust the help we hire to achieve that on our behalf? It’s a sad state of affairs if we answer that in the affirmative. Modern living can be a bitch, double income families are not uncommon, but that’s precisely why we have to make the effort to keep certain moments precious and constant – it’s much too easy to cop out and claim we’re tired, exhausted or doing enough as it is for our kids. Hey, no one forced you to have them! They, least of all.
When I arrived, it was Ani Rosa Almario of Adarna House holding forth. Daughter of National Artist Virgilio Almario, Ani heads the Product Development section of their family publishing concern. She had just returned from England, the London Book Fair; where the British Council had sent her as the Philippine representative for Young Publisher of the Year (the Mexican delegate eventually took home the honors). Immensely envious of the rich reading culture to be found in countries such as England and Japan, she decried the manner in which parents, care-givers and teachers here were downplaying the written word, ready to "hide" behind the child’s fascination with TV and computer games.
Adarna has always made it a mission statement to foster indigenous children’s literature. When they were offered to do the licensed Walt Disney and Pokemon books, they idealistically declined, feeling it would be straying from what they had sought to accomplish. Even the lucrative temptation of entering the "textbook" field has been resisted. A couple of years ago, Adarna made the bold move of creating a book whose title character was a dyslexic super hero/boy. Entitled XILEF (Felix spelled backwards), it was supported by Museo Pambata and while very proud of the book, Ani confessed sales figures weren’t much to crow about. Recently, they optioned a book that had to do with living in separate homes, as parents have split up. Five, 10 years ago, this would have been taboo; the mere thought of creating children’s books of this sort would have raised objections from staid, unrealistic parents who only wanted their children sheltered or cocooned from the harsher side of life. Plus, let’s face it, this sort of books can be published, but will they be picked up from the shelves?
Someone commented that given the innovative work publishers like Adarna have been doing to push the envelope insofar as children’s literature was concerned, it was a shame that only the A-B families had the luxury of children picking the books they liked. Ani quickly countered that it was dangerous to generalize, and qualification had to be made. From what she sees during visits to establishments such as Fully Booked and Powerbooks, it still was parents who dictated choice, and when they weren’t around, it was even the yaya who might decide. As a father of three boys, I can support that view. Each of my boys will bring me four to five books at any one time, pleading I get them all. More often that not, I will peruse the covers and make decisions on which to get and how many of them, sometimes even insisting on a particular book I feel would impart more to them.
And there lies the crux of the problem. These books have been designed for the child, the enjoyment to be found therein is not necessarily something an adult can relate to; yet what is the purchasing and selection power of said child? And more important, what is the environment of the child, does it even foster a love for books and of reading outside the school? It truly requires us, as parents, adults, whatever, to remember the value of reading and taking the time to impart that knowledge and love to our children and/or wards. As a parent, when was the last time you sat with your child on your lap and read to him or her? Have you practically surrendered that responsibility to teachers and/or yayas? If the trend now is for wordless books, how well can communication and interaction between child and book be created without our participation? Should we trust the help we hire to achieve that on our behalf? It’s a sad state of affairs if we answer that in the affirmative. Modern living can be a bitch, double income families are not uncommon, but that’s precisely why we have to make the effort to keep certain moments precious and constant – it’s much too easy to cop out and claim we’re tired, exhausted or doing enough as it is for our kids. Hey, no one forced you to have them! They, least of all.
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