The power of shared stories - Lari Don

I received an email from a teacher at the end of last week which took my breath away. The email itself was a fairly mundane reply to queries about the school timetable and class sizes - we’re organising an author visit – but the PS was astounding. Here it is:

 PS - We've just had a very interesting class discussion on the morality of Yann's possession spell in First Aid for Fairies. One of the children made a connection with Trump's new torture agenda (our news article of the week) - who knew a book written almost a decade ago could be so topical?

To clarify, this is a class of primary age children, reading one of my adventure novels (First Aid For Fairies And Other Fabled Beasts, published in 2008), then the pupils, and their clearly superb teacher, bounced off it to discuss morality, ethics and world affairs.

I didn’t write that scene with any huge political goal in mind. Actually, this was my first novel, so I wrote it with no idea of whether anyone would ever read it, let alone discuss it. Honestly, I wrote it to discover how dark I could go with a children’s story, how flawed I could make a character and still care about him, how far I could stretch the magic that I was just learning to play with.

I didn’t write it to prompt discussions about right wing conservatism, abuse of power and the ethics of information gathering.

I am astounded, amazed, impressed and humbled that these primary age children were prompted by my words to think, to discuss, to make connections, and to discover their own opinions…

But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. This is after all what books and stories are for. This is what shared reading, and discussing stories together, should be for. Not specifically for dissecting the flaws of Donald Trump’s presidency (though, please go ahead and do that…) but for giving us shared vocabulary, and shared experiences within the safe environment of a story, so we can explore other issues together.

Stories help us think. Shared stories help us think together.

At this point I should probably explain: Yann is a centaur. In the relevant scene, this half-horse half-human from Greek myth (who is also a fairly grumpy Scottish pre-teen) uses dark magic to compel a weasel to spy for him, causing the weasel obvious pain and distress. The scene is set in tunnels under Edinburgh, which are being used by a minotaur as his temporary Scottish labyrinth, and the centaur’s use of dark magic is witnessed by his own friends – a selkie, a fairy, a phoenix and a token human girl - causing them to question his use and abuse of power.

As you can probably tell, First Aid For Fairies is a fantasy. It’s not set in contemporary real-life America, or the Middle East, or Guantanamo Bay. It’s a fantasy. And the fact that this wonderful teacher used this scene to encourage her pupils to talk about ethics and link them to current global concerns, proves something that I’ve always believed. Fantasy and fairy tales – stories set in magical worlds safely distant from our day-to-day lives – are very strong tools to allow us to examine our real world.

So, the power of class novels to prompt discussion, the power of fantasy to give us a new way to look at reality - this PS gave me pause to think about both of those issues. But the main reason this PS took my breath away was because it reminded me of the awesome responsibility of writing for children.

I don’t write stories with messages, I write stories with ambushes, chases and magic spells. But I also choose to write about characters and situations that allow me to explore questions which fascinate and concern me. I write because I want readers to enjoy the stories I imagine, I don’t write with the intention of teaching moral lessons (never, ever!) But I am incredibly moved and impressed if my books prompt young readers to explore their own questions.

It’s a privilege, an honour and a huge responsibility writing for kids, and it’s important to be reminded of that regularly. It’s also a very heavy weight to carry. But I suspect if we didn’t recognise the size of the responsibility, and occasionally stagger under its weight, we shouldn’t be doing it…

So, having almost recovered from this email, I’m now very much looking forward to meeting this thoughtful and wonderful class, and their amazing teacher, in a few weeks’ time.

But first, I’m off to explore questions of identity and choice, lightly disguised as a trilogy about shapeshifters… 

Lari Don is the award-winning author of more than 20 books for all ages, including fantasy novels for 8 – 12s, picture books, retellings of traditional tales, a teen thriller and novellas for reluctant readers. 

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Tales Round A Camp Fire: The Story of the Avenues Book Club by Tess Berry-Hart

“Do you like books?” asks Anna, a friendly mum who I’m chatting to in the park while our children roll, swing and wail in the background.

She doesn’t know I’m a writer, and to be honest, after six months of a new baby-and-toddler combo, I don’t know I’m a writer either. “Yes, I like books,” I say vaguely. “At least I used to, I think.”

“I’m thinking of starting a book club,” says Anna cheerily. “Do you want to join?”

“Lovely,” I say absently, wiping my baby’s snotty nose while my toddler clings to my leg and screeches for a biscuit. “Count me in.”

Actually I’m saying this to be polite. I’m fighting nappies, beakers and sandwiches, lack of sleep and lack of time. As a child and teenager I spent long hours lying on my bed lost in everything from Judy Blume to Jane Eyre, but as a mother I feel like Alice falling down the rabbit-hole. Where on earth do I get the time to READ a book? I don’t manage to brush my hair or have a shower some days, much less ...

But a few months later I’m sitting around a table in Anna’s house holding a glass of wine and talking about Alan Johnson’s childhood biography “This Boy” with a circle of chatty and intelligent readers all drawn from the surrounding Avenues. Johnson grew up in our neighbourhood in the Fifties and we’re having fun spotting landmarks and discussing how the area has changed. For the first time in a year or so I feel like my brain is connected to the world of information and ideas, and I don’t have to swivel abruptly round and shout “Quiet! Stop running!”

Yet as the months go by and new books are chosen and discussed, I realise there’s something deeper happening. Reading in a group is different to reading on your own. My experience of a book doesn’t end when I close the final page and as a result the story doesn’t remain locked and fossilised in my memory. Other people have their own ideas and through sharing it the story lives, leaps, and bounds again. There is no fixed way to interpret a book; different characters are sympathised with or disliked, an author’s voice can be either believed or distrusted, filtered through the lens of our differing experiences and background. Anya, another fellow book club member and TV producer, says “It's really interesting to see different people’s responses to the stories we read. Some of us might look at a story from a feminist perspective when others don't read the book in that way at all.” Allison, a special needs advisor, agrees. "It's really valuable being able to discuss the books and it can actually change my opinion or perspective on them." In essence, a story isn’t “mine” any longer - it is “ours.”

What is it about sharing a story that makes us feel so connected? Does it go back to our primal urge to communicate, to build meaning out of chaos, the ancient rite of sharing tales round a camp fire with the community?

For Anna the founder, it was exactly her need for a sense of community that made her want to start up a book club. “It’s made living in the crazy capital a little more like being in a village. People want to belong and feel involved in the community. If we're meeting and we're talking than that's a good thing.”

That's not to say that all communal experiences of stories are by definition positive. As a child, piano teacher Linda remembers finding reading “difficult and remember having to read out loud to the class. It was hard and deeply embarrassing, I was slower than others and the result was that it put me off reading in my junior years.” Now as an adult she reads widely and “the group has definitely encouraged me to look at authors that I would not normally look at and I am glad of this. I don't want to get stuck in a rut.”

Reading “in public” is definitely harder in some ways. Going against a majority verdict is difficult, if you love a book that is universally detested, or being the sole voice of dissent in an ocean of love. Some might find reading “to order” tricky, or finishing by a deadline when there’s so much other stuff to be done, but Allison sees this as a positive. “Although I was read to as a child, reading for me has always been a solitary activity. The book club helps me by motivating me to read, or to keep reading a book even if I don't like it.” 

Personally, to my surprise, I find time to read that I didn’t realise I had, and my mind feels refreshed after half an hour’s reading rather than jaded from scrolling through Facebook and Twitter. It’s a treat rather than a workout. And it’s had a positive effect on the book eco-system too, as I try to make time to order the book of the month at the local library, although often I cheat and borrow other people’s Kindles ... 

But aren't book clubs a trend long over, a bit Noughties? Well I suppose like anything, they are what you make them. Our one-year anniversary of the Avenues Book Club is coming up soon, and we plan to go out to dinner to celebrate. Over the last year we’ve read biographies, magic realism, classics, new bestsellers, and science books; we’ve made friends just round the corner and established a social and support network that is often lacking in cities today. I feel tuned in to the world and the local community in a way that I haven’t since I was a kid. As Anya puts it, “A book can draw us into surprisingly frank and intimate conversations about our own lives ... and it has made it clear to me that our own stories, and those of our friends and neighbours, are often as compelling as any story committed to print.”

As adults and parents, we have so little time to ourselves that making time to read feels like a luxury. But is it really a luxury? If some of the major paths to happiness are through connectedness to others and the sense of communication, isn’t reading something really vital and essential?

What do you think? Are you a member of a book club? Or do you prefer to read alone? Let me know!