What's The Magic of Wordless Picture Books? by Pippa Goodhart

I love the lyrical text of a picture book such as Malachy’s ‘Dancing Tiger’.  I love the pow zap language action of comic strip stories.  I love the expressive font usage of particular words in Lauren Child’s ‘That Pesky Rat’.  I love the use of pictures as if they were words in Polly Dunbar’s ‘Penguin’.  But I also love picture books with no words in them at all.  In fact I have an ambition to be the author of a book with no words in it at all.  I want to dream-up visual story or stories that will be realised by somebody else – an artist – and I want my picture ideas to be enough without words.

Why?  Because pictures on their own leave the audience to do the work of noticing all there is to notice; the job of joining the visual story dots to create the story that is probably more truly their own personal version of the book story than is the case when there are words to guide you. 

Many modern reading schemes now begin with simple wordless picture books in order to give children the experience of ‘reading’ a story in a way that all can access, without the skills for decoding text being necessary.  They get children into the habit of reading story (as they will with text) from left to right, turning pages from beginning to end. 

But, more excitingly than that, wordless books make children use their story imaginations, and gives them the chance to express those stories in their own words.  And this isn’t just true for small children, of course.  Shaun Tan’s ‘Arrival’ is a wordless picture book that stretches adult imagination in the most brilliant ways. 

These books become story creating experiences that hand story power to the audience.  Instead of listening to an adult reading out prescribed words, any words (if any are even needed) come from you.  That’s exciting, and involves an author/illustrator who dares to trust their audience to handle the story themselves.

 Apparently studies have shown that parents ‘reading’ wordless picture books to children use much more sophisticated language than would normally be found in a picture book text.  So maybe, ironically, wordless picture books extend children’s vocabulary more than those with words?

What are my favourite wordless picture books? 

Beatrix Rodriquez wonderful stories about a ‘Fox and Hen’ are exciting, funny, moving and memorable. 

Raymond Briggs’ ‘Snowman’, shown in wordless cartoon, has of course become a classic, although many versions of the story now have words added, which seems a shame.

Jeannie Baker’s ‘Home’ is most moving and challenging ‘Home’ and other titles are important books for a wide age range. 

Quentin Blake’s ‘Clown’ is another moving tale.

Come to think of it, all these examples are of quite challenging stories.  Perhaps wordlessness is a way to cope with what might be uncomfortable if it were to be articulated?  What do you think?

Bee-rocracies & Hierarchies - Alison Boyle

What is it like to be a bee? 

Readers of picturebooks and readers of this blog, I'm going to let you in to some of my thoughts about story themes, some of which involve bees.

A big theme with several branches can provoke responses from readers, who bring an array of experiences to the interpretation of a story. Theodor Seuss Geisel (alias Dr Seuss) dealt with gigantic themes in his books, including nuclear war, capitalism and the environment.

As any storyteller will tell you - including adults who are required to make up bedtime epics starring the children sitting next to them – it is vital to think yourself into the main character or characters.

When creating How Bees Be I asked myself:

Q: What does it feel like under the furry skin of a young bee that could also say something about the human condition? 
 

The big theme of How Bees Be (published by Milet, Chicago):
What happens when a character rebels against the structures of its world?

 

Looked at another way:

Q: What is it about the way a young bee looks at the world that's relevant to the way a child sees their life?

What's different?

And if children aren't reading themselves, what is there for older readers now, and for children if they think about this story in the future?

Illustrations carry meanings where the word limit doesn't allow for detailed descriptions (Laura Hambleton did the lovely bee pics). More fundamentally, creators – whether illustrators or writers or aural storytellers – will usually have a theme or two in mind at the story's inception.

Initially though, I wanted to write a book with a bee as its main character. One teacher considered How Bees Be

    "Perfect for a lesson I was doing with 4/5 year old children.
    It explores the different things that bees do in very
    imaginative and creative ways! I am glad I brought it,
    it is a story I will share again and again." Ms AJ Herrod (Suffolk).

This is one response that probably reflects the time I spent researching bees. But when I came to writing the story I ditched the facts that couldn't be used as a vehicle to express something about people.

Going back to that big theme, obviously discipline and structure are at the heart of bee communities and I wanted to draw parallels between the hive and the social, political and domestic rules that govern us.

In How Bees Be there is a Churchillian war cabinet scene that alludes to the careful planning needed – here by the bee-rocracy - to assure the efficient collection and processing of honey to keep society going. In a factory scene, mechanisation enables the noble workers to process the honey, and a picture indent emphasises the idea of everyone pulling together, including Royalty.

At one level the book is about a child's curiosity manifested in the character of Little Bee. Though small, the protagonist has an enormous appetite for pushing herself on. She already thinks of herself as grown-up, and has tantrums that are more akin to the teenage variety than toddler. But I wanted to go beyond Little Bee leaving the familiar zone of her bee bedroom to the world outside the hive.

On the first page Little Bee exercises her right to 'being a grown-up bee' by staying in bed. After rebelling against her older Biker Sis and a squadron of honeybees she explores the labyrinthine corridors of the hive, where she meets the Queen Bee.

The Queen leads a tour to demonstrate how grown-up bees in the honey factory keep the community fed. Little Bee displays that child-like quality of asking searching questions: 'Time for you to start work?' she asks at one point. To which the Queen replies: 'I don't see why I should. I'm a grown-up bee now.' 

Royalist sympathies or not?

On the final pages the main character achieves her desire, and there is intentional irony in her taking a step away from the freedom of childhood and accepting the mantle of responsibility. 

Of course it's a mixed bag: children do have less freedom in some ways, and adults often lose the freedom to stay in bed. On the other hand, being a grown-up in the bee world involves dancing, so it isn't necessarily a bad lot.

The big theme of Wishing Bird (published by Puffin):
How can friends
provide reassurance
if self-esteem dips?

  

The big theme of The Dance of the Eagle and the Fish (published by Milet):
Is love powerful enough to transcend boundaries?
(including being inside the bodies of a bird and a fish)

Picturebooks, like all stories, reflect the places where readers and listeners join them. They can also plant the seeds of new ideas that are responded to, sometimes unconsciously, many years in the future when the book itself might have been lost, handed on, or is too tatty to read.

If you have a few spare minutes on your hands, pick up a picturebook, any picturebook. Look inside and think about its themes. You are allowed to read things into the story – that's part of what it is to be a reader (and maybe a bee, but I don't think we will ever know).

Look inside How Bees Be