This children’s book series blew me away.
I’ve been a children’s bookseller for over 15 years. I’ve seen the rise and fall of Captain Underpants. I was on the front lines when Dr. Seuss was canceled and Enid Blyton was resurrected. Through it all, I’ve maintained a stoic demeanor. When kids buy Harry Potter, I ask them which house they belong to. When they return a copy of Watership Down and trade it for the Minecraft Redstone Guide, I ask them if they’ve ever fought the Ender Dragon. But one series finally drove me mad.
Little people, big dreams.
If you’ve been to a child’s birthday party in the last five years, you know what I mean. Little People, Big Dreams is a successful children’s picture book series that summarizes the biographies of inspirational activists, artists, and athletes for ages about four to seven. There is also an abridged board book series with select titles for babies. The series website describes the books as featuring “characters with many different experiences, backgrounds and life paths” and says “the aim of the series is to develop empathy and understanding of the world in children” and “to inspire the next generation of outstanding people”.
These books are the bane of my existence. The writing is clunky and formulaic. The subject matter is bizarre. And although they’re drawn by talented illustrators from around the world, the art has an uncomfortable corporate feel, like reading a company-wide brochure from a progressive employer explaining how to deal with impending layoffs. They’re the Funko Pops of children’s publishing.
The worst part is that they don’t stop mass producing them. Do you know how many of these damn books there are? Neither do I, because every time someone updates the count, another four appear out of nowhere. There are already well over a hundred, and by the time I get this out there there will probably be ten more.
One reason I despise them so much (apart from the vile hypocrisy and wooden prose) is that there are so many stunning, daring, exquisitely designed children’s books out there. Say what you will about the rest of the children’s book market, but the picture and nonfiction sections have never looked healthier. Pokko and the drum! A perfect wonderful day with friends! Dim Sum Palace! Dazzling hands! Paku Manu Ariki Whakatakapōkai!
It breaks my heart to see people walk past these great titles and head straight to the Little People, Big Dreams section to pick up a baby copy of Steve Jobs or Ruth Bader Ginsberg.
Children’s picture books should be about what happens when a witch turns you into a pig. Or about a sausage with evil intentions that lives at the back of the oven. Or about a mouse that is also an architect. They shouldn’t be about Elton John or Kamala Harris.
It is true that some children have extremely specific interests. One of the most enjoyable parts of my job is finding the perfect book for a picky child who refuses to read about anything but worms. Or scarecrows. Maybe there really is a child out there who absolutely needs an inspirational picture book about the the hottest man in the worldLeonard Cohen.
The LPBD books that are easiest to tolerate are those about sports legends, because while there are thousands of picture books about badgers playing trumpets, there are very few books about football players, race car drivers, or karate champions. I can understand why an NBA-loving child might be excited to receive a book about Michael Jordan for his birthday. I also see a vague argument for their inclusion in an educational context.
On the other hand, they are not The educational. The comments on Goodreads are full of parents pointing out basic biographical errors and historically anachronistic illustrations. And for all their good intentions and positive messages, they certainly make some odd narrative choices. While any picture book about a real person’s life probably has to trim some of the more sensitive content, the information they leave out is downright odd. Consider this passage about Princess Di:
“…but although her life seemed like something out of a fairytale, Diana soon realized that the prince’s heart belonged to someone else. She fell into deep sadness. Over time, this sadness developed into an eating disorder called bulimia.”
Is it just me, or is it odd that Princess Diana’s picture book isn’t afraid to address infidelity and eating disorders, but completely ignores Diana’s death? Diana isn’t the only celebrity to escape death. Marilyn Monroe doesn’t die. Neither does Alan Turing. As far as I can tell from a cursory survey, almost all of them make it out alive.
I certainly don’t mind children’s picture books dealing with sensitive subjects. I previously researched Starship Hospital, so I know the importance of literature that deals with disturbing and complicated subjects. But with Little People, Big Dreams, I feel like the author is out of her depth. She’s talking to children as if they’ve suffered a serious head injury. Rather than choosing to either cut the disturbing content or explain things more clearly, the publishers have made an uncomfortable compromise and glossed over the difficult issues affecting people’s lives in a way that is both confusing and annoyingly timid.
Take this passage from the Turing book:
“Tragically, Alan was the victim of an unfair anti-gay law. He lost his job and was forced to endure bizarre treatment that left him very sad.”
I don’t know about you, but something about that wording makes my toenails curl.
I’m not saying that the book about Princess Diana should end with a car crash, or that it should include themes like chemical castration and suicide. I’m just pointing out that the educational case for these books is flimsy. They won’t win the Baillie Gifford Prize for non-fiction, and they’re not going to. They’re about emotional truths, not biographical ones. Above all, they’re meant to inspire.
But it’s not surprising that some biographies are more inspiring than others. Take King Charles, for example. Or the inspiring girl boss and Nazi collaborator Coco Chanel. Other subjects are rather boring. Shakira. David Beckham. Iris Apfel. No offense, but it sounds like a quiet evening with Jimmy Fallon.
To be fair, the Little People, Big Dreams series is not alone in its sometimes questionable choice of subject matter. I remember a friend once buying an anthology of rebel girl bedtime stories for her Irish niece and finding out too late that one of the rebel girls was Margaret Thatcher.
That’s not to say that there isn’t a wide variety of really fascinating and inspiring people there. But it doesn’t make sense to me to buy your child a book about Basquiat from the Little People, Big Dreams series. If you really want to introduce your alarmingly precocious child to his work, isn’t it better to buy a book that actually presents his illustrations, such as Life doesn’t scare me by Maya Angelou? Anyone who truly loves their work would surely prefer to see their art on the page rather than in some crappy Canva approximation.
Perhaps it would be different if the children’s biography section was in dire straits. But we live in a golden age of children’s nonfiction. There is an exquisite, richly illustrated children’s picture book for almost every historical figure you can imagine. Louise Bourgeois. Lisa Carrington. Wu Chien Shiung. Malcolm X Ken Nedimyer. Andy Warhol. Albert EinsteinThe number of Frida Kahlo picture books alone could fill an entire souvenir shop at a Mexican airport.
I firmly believe that any book that gets a child reading is essentially a good book. But in my experience, children are not the target audience for these books. They are helpless adults shopping for baby showers and birthday parties, stumbling into a bookstore, seeing an illustrated John Lennon picture book and thinking: This is funny.
I know that my feelings of hatred and disgust towards these books are not justified in reality. Perhaps they will actually inspire a new generation of Mary Annings and Greta Thunbergs. On the other hand, they shamelessly cater to niche adult interests at the expense of children’s imagination and language skills. They narrow the market for better and more interesting books. And worst of all, they result in some poor, innocent child opening their birthday present every week and being confronted with Little People, Big Dreams: Chris Martin.
Next time you are in a bookstore looking for a gift for your colleague’s newborn daughter or your new nephew, do the child a favor and find a book about a woman working in a kiosk or a Bear who lost his hat. What happens next might surprise you.
