Thursday, September 16, 2010

"LUUKE... I AM YOUR FAAATHER."






The eternal mystery. A school full of 4-7 year old boys who have never seen the movie Star Wars. Whose parents have no intention of letting them see it until they are older. But who can recite every essential line of dialog and do a pretty decent Yoda voice. We can't keep the Star Wars books in stock; the reserve lists continue.

Every year, I demonstrate book care with a large stack of the big Star Wars books that have been damaged beyond repair. I sing loudly, doing my best imitation of Bill Murray as the lounge singer,

"Star Wars, nothing but Star Wars,
Tearing up Star Wars,
That's what kids do....

Star Wars, nothing but Star Wars,
You hurt my Star Wars,
I'll come hurt you..."

As I sing, I'm opening the books and the pages are flying around the room, ripped apart by the spine-cracking bad-page-turners that are my customers. The students simultaneously gasp in distress and fall over laughing.


Scholars have published reams about the enduring myth, the roots in folklore, the early Japanese prototypes, gender studies, the semiotics, the iconography and the enduring appeal of Star Wars. It has permeated our culture to a profound degree. And it permeates children's culture in a way that would not surprise Iona and Peter Opie, anthropologists who cataloged children's street and playground traditions. The details of Star Wars are handed down from child to child, year after year, with no parental involvement at all. In fact, the Opie's book The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren (1959), which argued that the entertainment industry had not ruined childhood traditions, might need revision to account for the Star Wars phenomenon.

I have watched this phenomenon for fifteen years as a children's librarian. The tall illustrated books, which fall apart so easily, go home with kindergarteners who can't read a word. Occasionally a parent complains about the child's choice; I simply remind parents that they should check out excellent literature to read aloud to their children -- don't read aloud something you don't enjoy! -- and let their children haul around the junk. It confers incredible prestige when you are 6 years old. The Star Wars books have made readers out of more than one little boy. To placate parents who are tired of seeing them come home every single week, the Star Wars books take a sabbatical in the spring so that young children expand their choices.


And now, I bless the publisher DK, who has brought out a series of easy readers that are flying off the shelf. May the force make readers of them all.

And enjoy, from Improv Everywhere, an event on the NYC subway (if you can't open the embed, click here)

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