The Haunted Wood: A History of Childhood Reading, Sam Leith

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Leith takes us on a journey through childhood reading, and by association, attitudes to childhood, from Aesop to Philip Pullman with many a firm favourite in between. This isn’t a small book at just shy of six hundred pages, but it is very easy to read and will fill you with the magic and joy of childhood reading. The idea of children’s publishing didn’t really come into existence until the Edwardian period, so many of the books we think of as children’s literature before then wouldn’t have been considered as such at the time, but it has absolutely thrived since. Although initially children’s books were designed to morally guide the reader, as children increasingly played a role in choosing their reading material it has shifted into focussing more on entertainment for them, often with a good dose of naughtiness involved.

In taking us through some of the best beloved British children’s stories (with some American publications thrown in for their undeniable impact on the genre) we also learn much of their authors. Leith points to the fact children’s books are often nostalgic, being rooted in the time their authors remember from their own youth, even if they update the setting with modern touches such as computers and smart phones. In exploring the lives of the authors we see how often they suffered trauma in their childhoods or young adult lives. Often those traumas are steadfastly absent from their books, instead choosing to create a comforting world where the darkness doesn’t enter, or in which evil is always overcome by the final pages. He tackles the less savoury aspects of some beloved authors’ personalities, a difficult thing to come to terms with sometimes when their creations were so central to your imaginative life as a child. And yes, he does also address the controversy around JK Rowling, offering the kinder suggestion that perhaps the reason her readers have turned so vehemently against her because of her views is that they learnt great empathy in reading her books in their youth.

At the heart of the book is the magic of children’s literature which stirs up nostalgic feelings of wonder in the reader. Leith examines some books in more detail and it’s interesting to consider books I loved as a child in more depth, placing them in the great traditions of children’s writing, exploring ways they challenge ideas and offer children insights into other lives, helping them develop empathy. It was quite delightful to return to favourite books and authors, but also to discover ones that passed me by and which I’m keen to read in the future. 

A great read which makes you question things you took at face value as a child reader (why do the animals in Beatrix Potter’s books sometimes act as if they were humans, at others as animals, while varying greatly in realistic size to ones more akin to humans?). The mini biographies of the authors are fascinating and reveal much about the origins of some of our longest surviving tales, as well as discussing the power of more recent authors such as Malorie Blackman and Jacqueline Wilson doing a huge amount to increase representation in children’s books and the life-changing impact this has on readers. A warm hug of a book, I’ll leave you with a quote from toward the end, which is a reminder of why reading may just be the cure to some of the world’s current problems. ‘The paradox of social media is that it places you in a crowd of millions and makes you feel alone. Storybooks are paradoxical in the opposite way: you consume them alone, but the act of consuming them makes you feel less alone.’

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Waterstones

The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante (translated by Ann Goldstein)

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The compelling conclusion to Ferrante’s stunning Neapolitan Quartet picks up where the previous book left off. Elena and Nino are in the midst of an affair and on the cusp of taking steps that make their relationship their primary one, leaving their spouses and children. The first sections of the novel are focused on this relationship and its implications, for Elena specifically. Eventually she moves back to the old neighbourhood in Naples and Lila becomes ever more present in her life. When they both fall pregnant around the same time their bond grows closer as they face the challenges of being mothers again at a later stage in life. Will the devastating loss of the eponymous child shake them beyond repair, and will we finally learn the reason for Lila’s disappearance as laid out in the first novel by Elena looking back on their lives?

Elena’s relationship with Nino is frustrating. He is clearly treating her badly, trying to have the best of both worlds, and yet she can’t make herself leave him for good. It is only quite late in the novel where she sees him clearly for the first time. When their baby is young and Pietro continues to be present in her life, trying to support her, Nino is jealous and makes her send him away. Of course, when Pietro goes Nino does not step up. He is selfish and jealous, self serving, and makes life difficult for her. Thankfully, she has Lila nearby able to help with her daughters, although this can be something of a mixed blessing. 

Her sense of competition with Lila never leaves her. Elena can’t let go of the feeling that Lila is better than her, more intelligent, a better writer. Elena is the successful writer, respected in intellectual circles, and yet that lack of confidence lingers. Lila is no doubt impressive, in this novel running a computer business. She is inquisitive and able to learn seemingly anything if she puts her mind to it. But she is also quick to anger and has been limited by her circumstances. This is perhaps what Elena fears most, the rage that must have built up having such a bright mind but not being allowed to use it to its full potential. Indeed, people in the neighbourhood come to see Lila as an alternative power to the Solaras, such is her influence. 

The neighbourhood remains a dangerous place and Elena uses it to feed her work. When her reflections are published she questions whether she should have taken so much from life. She attempts to obscure the real characters she’s writing about but is unsuccessful, and the publishers relish the look behind the curtain into a very different kind of life, making it central to the publicity around her book in a way that feels uncomfortable. We see also the neighbourhood through the eyes of her daughters, who have experienced the comfort and safety of other parts of Italy. Despite the challenges and her financial position allowing her to move away, she stays. Her and Lila’s lives become closely intertwined as they live in close proximity and their children form tight bonds. 

There are many times throughout the book where family relationships are discussed, Lila and Elena's role as mothers, wives and partners. Their changing approaches to motherhood and the devastation of a lost child, how a moment can change something fundamental in you, is examined. We see how Elena’s daughters react to having absent fathers, and how the involvement of Pietro and Nino seriously impacts their sense of self worth and confidence. We also see how they interact with their elders. Elena’s relationship with her former mother-in-law and her own mother and how their ageing and ill health helps shift her perspective. They may have difficult, sometimes judgmental relationships, but they are important, and when they are gone forever it leaves a hole that can’t be filled. 

At the heart of the novel, as always, is Elena and Lila. We see them at times reflect on their childhood behaviour, and continue to be cruel to each other. Elena makes difficult decisions about what she can and can’t include in her writing, jeopardising relationships with those who have been in her life for as long as she can remember. Lila, in her generosity in looking after Elena’s children to allow her the freedom to pursue her career also seems to use it as a weapon. Theirs is a complex, fraught friendship but one that is ultimately essential to both of them. As they age throughout the novel we see both their insecurities and their sense of how they are perceived by others develop. We see everything through the lens of Elena’s insecurities, or is there some of Lila in the telling of the story? A heightened version of many friendships perhaps, but one that will be familiar to people who have tried to retain friendships throughout their lives. The inherent jealousy and judgment, love and struggle is perhaps something people try not to face in their own relationships but more often than not will be there to some degree.

This is a powerful conclusion to a breathtaking series of books. Ferrante brings to life the Italy of the 1970s and 80s and what it means to be a woman during this period of change. Times may have changed but working mothers are likely to see much of their lives in the struggle Elena has balancing her family and professional life. A broad host of characters are managed skilfully across the four novels, bringing them to a satisfying conclusion without ever feeling tokenistic or overly neat. Terrible things happen and we are told about them in such a matter of fact way it hits hard but takes a moment for the full realisation to kick in. A truly remarkable series, and the final instalment does not disappoint.

Pick up a copy:

Waterstones

Read my thoughts of the first three books:

My Brilliant Friend

The Story Of A New Name

Those Who Leave And Those Who Stay