Lady Wombat says:

Reynolds argues that previous studies of children’s literature have not focused on the potential for children’s texts to be radical, to “contributes to the social and aesthetic transformation of culture by, for instance, encouraging readers to approach ideas, issues, and objects from new perspectives and so prepare the way for change” (1). In her introduction, she lays out her differences with Jacqueline Rose and with Juliet Dusinberre (Alice to the Lighthouse: Children’s Books and Radical Experiments in Art); she also discusses the migration of adult texts to the children’s shelf, and children’s literature that she terms “magic(al) realism.” The somewhat piecemeal introduction concludes with a statement of Reynolds’ purpose in writing the book: “changing the way children’s literature is perceived in culture by recognizing the way books – and increasingly other narrative forms – for children have fostered and embedded social, intellectual and aesthetic change, and about identifying the changes that are currently taking place – and those that are being resisted – in writing for the young” (23).

The following seven chapters, rather than working to build a sustained argument, function instead to make smaller arguments about different genres that Reynolds’ sees as “radical.”
Chapter 2 looks as the way that“children’s literature – and particularly in the form of the picturebook – has actively explored [modernism’s] concepts and styles” (24). One section looks at several books written by adult modernist writers (such as Gertrude Stein); another looks at a handful of picturebooks Reynolds deems “modernist”; the final section looks at a small selection of 21st century picture books. Reynolds doesn’t define modernism from the start, but instead just mentions key modernist ideas during her analysis. This leaves those of us unfamiliar with modernism’s tenets a bit in the dark. I was also puzzled – many of these texts seemed postmodern to me; where does KR draw the line between modernism and postmodernism?

Chapter 3 examines nonsense as radical. It defines nonsense, and gives a list of its characteristics; examines 19th century nonsense as “regressive male fantasy”; mentions modernist-influenced nonsense novels of the mid 20th century (Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth (1961), Russell Hoban’s The Mouse and his Child (1967), and stories by Ionescu); and concludes with a discussion of contemporary French nonsense picturebooks.

Chapter 4 focuses on YA lit, not children’s lit, discussing “the way contemporary YA fiction is participating in shaping thinking about what adolescents are and do and the roles that are being constructed for them in society” (69). Reynolds deplores the ways that the oppositional identity of youth culture from the 60’s and 70’s has been undermined; “symptomatic of this change is the way significant categories of YA fiction focus on characters who are rendered impotent either as a consequence of the terrible things that happen to them or because they are encouraged to see themselves as frivolous and peripheral” (69).

Chapter 5 looks at “books that are transforming long-held views about what is suitable for children through their explorations of some of the damaging and traumatic aspects of growing up in contemporary Western culture” (89). Picture books (the only one I was familiar with was Michael Rosen’s Sad Book) first, then YA novels about self-harm.

Chapter 6 again focuses on YA fiction, in particular on sex and sexuality in such novels. Reynolds says that RSTrites’ argument, that sex is typically seen as a problem in YA fiction, rather than something to be celebrated, is no longer true six years after Trites’ book, pointing to books with more explicit sexual content (Melvin Burgess’s, in partiular). She then does a historical case study of books that feature affairs between teachers and students to demonstrate her claim. The chapter ends with a discussion of same-sex and transgender relationships in 21st century novels.

Chapter 7 discusses horror fiction, mysteries, and thrillers. While “early children’s fiction tended to use fear to promote social conformity” (139), contemporary scary literature can use fear in a more radical way: “Fear arising from a narrative that unexpectedly slips behind a reader’s defenses is quite different from the experience of consciously choosing a book that advertises itself as frightening – and anticipating the pleasures that can arise from being frightened under the right circumstances. This kind of pleasure is about control – choosing what, when, and where to experience frightening fictions – so it is not surprising that the period of adolescence, a time notoriously about learning to manage the self in a society that often seems overwhelming, is particularly associated with an appetite for this kind of narrative” (140). She also looks at dystopic texts.

The final chapter examines “transtexts,” “writing that combines elements from fixed print and different media” (155). Reynolds argues that writers and publishers of children’s lit aren’t keeping pace with technological innovations, so that there is “currently a gap between technological innovation, how users are generating and responding to text online, and developments in narrative fiction” (155). And books for children also tend to demonize technology, she argues, identifying three types of “technophobic” texts: “Prometheus stories,” “Technological dystopias,” and “IT pandemic fiction.” Ends by looking at a few more tech-friendly texts.
Reynolds’ brief conclusion looks at the innovations of fan-fiction written by children, suggesting that only when those who have grown up using these new technologies become writers will we begin to see more innovative transtexts for children.

Reynolds’ individual chapters are well worth reading, filled with sharp readings and pointed arguments. I particularly liked her discussion of scary books in Chapter 7. Throughout the book, though, she tends to make large-scale claims that aren’t supported with enough primary titles to be convincing. Many of the chapters could have been the basis for entire book projects, if they had been developed in more depth, with more primary texts considered.

I also wish she had thought more about the structure of the book as a whole – why start with modernism texts, and end with technophobic texts? How do the dystopias she discusses in chapter 7 relate to those she discusses in chapter 8? Why include an in-depth discussion of nonsense characteristics, and not a similar discussion of modernism’s? Does the definition of “radical” change as we look at different genres? At books for different age groups? Can a book be both radical and conservative simultaneously? Too often, these chapters feel like stand-alone projects than parts of a cohesive whole.

And, as is becoming increasingly common in academic books these days, there are quite a few errors and typos (author David Williamson Shaffer referred to as David William Shaffer; listing the acronym for fan fiction’s “Out of Character” as “OCC” instead of “OOC”; the publication date of Where the Kissing Never Stops listed as 2005, when it actually appeared in the 1980’s (making Reynolds’ chronologically-based argument appear on shaking ground in this passage!).
Definitely worth reading, particularly if you are researching one of the genres she discusses. But Reynolds’ overall claim – that children’s literature isn’t innately conservative, that it doesn’t lag behind literature for adults – isn’t supported with enough evidence to persuade me that in general children’s literature is a “a playground in which radical and innovative texts are devised” (quotes from the back cover). Yes, there are examples of radical and innovative books to be found, but they aren’t the majority, or even a significantly large portion, of the field as a whole.