Two books that interest me from a literacy perspective, if not from a literary one, are children's books. The first, I saw at the bookstore yesterday, did not buy, and forgot the author and title. Oops! It looked to be fantasy, and the cover resembles the Series of Unfortunate Events umm... series? or the Spiderwick Chronicles--dark & cartoony, if you know what I mean. [UPDATE: The book is Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge. I have a library copy and hope to review it in the future.] The cover also had across it, "Imagine a world in which books have been outlawed" or some such. My response? Ummm, yeah. It's been done. Multiple times. Clearly, I am not their intended audience. Still, from professional interest, I should probably take a look. Or at least go back & find the author & title to add to my list of literacy fictions. Guess I need to start a young adult list. That actually should be interesting!! I just find it grating when someone peddles an old idea as a new one. *sigh*
The second literacy narrative masquerades (sort of) as the story of a saint's life, but attempts to be a kind of How the Irish Saved Civilization for kids. Definitely not intended to inspire your children to Faith. So says Melanie at The Wine Dark Sea:
I had high hopes for Across a Dark and Wild Sea, writen and illustrated by Don Brown, the story of St. Columcille (also known as St. Columba), but I am sadly disappointed. It isn't a terrible book, but it falls short of what it should be and could be and its deficiencies are in strong contrast when it's read next to the excellent book about St Kevin.
I had two main complaints. The first is an overly didactic tone that gets in the way of telling a good story. Brown's decision to incorporate definitions of words, information about the historical period, and a long discourse about the process of making manuscripts into the flow of the story is an unfortunate one. This information, while quite welcome, could have been included as notes at the back of the book rather than in the text of the story. (This is what the story of St Kevin does and I think it allows the story to be entertaining to a much younger audience while still informing an older reader.) The story frequently bogs down and I noticed Isabella's interest waning at the same time I began to be annoyed.
My second complaint is that the book is completely secular in its approach. That Columcille is a saint is only mentioned in the author's note at the end. It doesn't appear at all in the text of the story. God is never mentioned and religion, faith and prayer seem to be embarrassing incidentals to be glossed over and talked around as much as possible. The author seems to be an outsider, distinctly uncomfortable with the vocabulary of religion.
I think this discomfort can be demonstrated best in contrasting the way the two books handle the protagonists' entrance to monastic life. The Blackbird's Nest states simply:
When he was seven, Kevin's parents sent him to live at a monastery where he could learn to read, write and pray. As he knelt beside the monks in chapel, he felt he almost belonged there.Across a Dark and Wild Sea, on the other hand, though clearly written at a much more advanced reading level, seems distinctly uncomfortable with the vocabulary of faith and introduces awkward circumlocutions to define the words "monastery" and "monk", words which the Kevin book simply uses naturally without any glosses:
These schools were part of religious communities called monasteries and were candles of learning in a dark world. Columcille became a monastery member known as a monk.Really, "monastery member"!?! Give me a break!
Another passage that sounded a wrong note was when after a bloody battle Columcille imposes a penance of exile upon himself. Note, though, the absence of the vocabulary of faith (words such as vows, sin, virtue, and penance):
Yet the victory felt hollow and wrong to Columcille. The blood shed over the book had betrayed his pledge as a monk to live a worthy life. He decided he must be punished and set the punishment himself: He would leave his beloved Ireland to make a more worthy life elsewhere.
Later we are told that the monks at Iona "struggled to live worthy lives and shared their faith with their Scottish neighbors." That adjective "worthy" is anemic! Were I writing this story, I'd have written about their living lives of heroic virtue, serving God, and bringing the light and love of Christ to their Scottish neighbors.
Brown seems to want to tell the story of how the Irish monks saved civilization while being embarrassed that religion has to come into it at all. This is not a story about a man of faith, but about literacy and books. Not a bad thing in itself; but, as I said, disappointing when I was hoping for an inspiring story of a great saint. Here's the conclusion of the book:
Books were made and dispatched, like small boats on a dark and wild sea, to places where reading and writing had been forgotten or ignored. The books made colonies of learning, and people's minds, once dark with ignorance, were brightened.Though I'm fascinated by Columcille the man who loved books, I think he would agree with me that more important than his love for books was his love for Christ. St. Columba wasn't just copying words but The Word. His greatest work was bringing light to darkened minds, the light of Christ. Sadly, the author of this book seems blind to that greater light.
Columcille, the man who loved books, helped the world love books. So we remember him and retell his story.
IN A BOOK.
Two more minor quibbles, I almost think it's overkill to include them. From the first page I was uncomfortable with the characterization of the Medieval period as "the dark ages". From a Catholic perspective the middle ages were in fact an era of light, the light of Christ shining in a formerly pagan world as monasteries spread . But the introduction presents the familiar secular perspective: "the darkness of ignorance and the shadow it cast over people's minds."
I also was distinctly uncomfortable with this characterization: "Reading and writing were like magic and the people who knew their secrets as rare as wizards. Columcille became one of them."
I think this book may still be useful, especially for studies of Ireland, Irish history, medieval history, etc. Not so good for catechetical purposes, looking at religious themes. It certainly isn't wrong in anything it says and I do appreciate the literacy narrative aspects of Columcille story.
Melanie's description interests me, but I can see the reasons for her reservations. The characterization of the Middle Ages is not only troubling from a perspective of faith, but also an intellectual perspective. Ask your professor of Medieval Literature or History about this time period. The monasteries were seats of mini-Renaissances! Even from the perspective of literacy-orality studies, some things seem a little simplistic. . . The ending, for example. Ummm. . . Let's think. . . Would his story have been transmitted entirely by way of literacy? What about the other ways Tradition/traditions and lives of the saints have been passed on? That's right! Orality! The two did not tend to exist independently of one another. It seems to preserve the superiority of literacy, which is a definite faux-pas as literacy studies go these days. Not one with which I'm super concerned, though. I do think that books brightened people's minds, though this language is rather telling:
The books made colonies of learning, and people's minds, once dark with ignorance, were brightened.
Let's look at that for a moment. These books have just been described as "little boats" being "made and dispatched." Now the books are making "colonies of learning." Hmmm. . . Aren't colonies baaaad?? The implicit discourse here is the discourse of colonization. The book itself seems almost to be making a post-colonial point: that people were having their minds colonized by ideas about faith and religion, which was (we guess) okay given the times and that it was all the people had access to. On the other hand, they were learning to read, which is generally accepted as "good" and must have had some residual benefits for the poor ignorant people. I find this fascinating on a number of levels. I really have to find this one. I don't expect to love it, but sometimes that's what scholarship is all about.
