Dear Canada: Brothers Far From Home

I decided it was finally time for me to bite the bullet and read one of the Dear Canada books that are so popular with a particular set of girls these days. I can tell you I wasn't looking forward to it. Not only did the intensity of the series marketing make me a little ill, but the form itself (diary entries with lots of "dear reader" direct addresses) isn't, and never was, a favourite of mine. But Jean Little is no small potatoes in Canadian children's lit and I was interested to see what all the fuss was about. I must admit that I didn't have a conversion experience after which I suddenly enjoy the diary-novel, but I was impressed by what Jean Little was able to accomplish within the form. It took about a third of the book for me to stop being distracted by the format, but after that I found myself drawn into the story and eagerly waiting to see how the events of Eliza's life would unfold.

Little, Jean. Brothers Far From Home: The World War I Diary of Eliza Bates, Uxbridge Ontario, 1916. Markham, ON: Scholastic Canada, 2003.

The year is 1916 and the Great War is the first thing on most people's minds in Uxbridge, Ontario. When twelve-year old Eliza Bates starts writing in her new Christmas diary, her biggest concern is her infuriating older sister Verity. Before she fills the final pages on Christmas day exactly two years later, Eliza will have documented the everyday trials of a family in war-time, sibling bonds and grievances, the unthinkable losses of a family with two sons away at war, and the life-affirming surprises that weave their way into even the most difficult times.

Following the template that has garnered such commercial success for the Dear Canada series, this book is told in first person diary entries, follows the life of a young Canadian girl as it is affected by events on the world stage, and is presented in a hard-cover diary-like form complete with matching ribbon bookmark. But part of the success of the series has also been Scholastic's choice of authors from among the very best of Canadian children's writers, and Jean Little is no exception.

Other than extensive research, Little's strength here is her use of character to ground the larger drama in the life of a single girl. The story's immersion in the events and flavour of the historical period is complete and convincing, but the focus is on their relevance to one family and to a single child trying to find her way through a difficult time. Eliza's character and the drama within her own family circle act as effective entry points to larger world events. The tangible and believable changes in Eliza's character over the two years also give the story a satisfying narrative arc and move the story beyond a simple tool of historical curiosity to a real coming-of-age story.

The language is noticeably more formal than a contemporary diary voice, and the diction is constant reminder of the era. The narrative makes several passing mentions of other historical events that die-hard Dear Canada fans will enjoy tracing back to other books in the series, such as the Halifax harbour explosion (No Safe Harbour: The Halifax Explosion Diary of Charlotte Blackburn, Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1917). The book also includes end-notes with more in-depth historical background and photos from the time of the First World War.

For fans of the series, or those who love to read in the diary format, this book is sure to be an instant hit. But even for those who are less convinced about the series and format, this book is well-written enough that it just may surprise some readers if they can get beyond the distraction of the form.

Only Connect: Readings on Children's Literature

Egoff, Sheila, Gordon Stubbs, Ralph Ashley, and Wendy Sutton. Only Connect: Readings on Children's Literature. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1996.

I spent some time with the Fantasy Section (Part III) of this recent Canadian classic, enjoying some different but complementary points of view on the topic from some of the best in Children's fantasy writing.

As a writer, Jane Yolen underscores the importance of research to the creation of a believable fantasy world. This includes both factual information-finding about fantastical traditions and creatures (what are the difference between Eastern and Western dragons, for instance?), as well as a cultivation of close attention to the behaviour of things in the real world with the aim of giving credibility to fantastical things in a created world. I also found her discussion of "voice" fascinating - how the choosing a vatic/prophetic/oracular voice (Wizard of Earthsea) creates a different story than one told in the schoolboy voice (Narnia), or the voice of the fool (Alice in Wonderland, Phantom Tollbooth).

Perry Nodelman challenges the idea that fantasy worlds are essentailly (or exhaustively) symbolic representations of the everyday world. He suggests that we "do not enjoy fantasies because the psychological or moral meaning." Like Yolen, he also focuses on the role of the narrator (as well as control of tone) in establishing credibility within the story. Nodelman outlines the complex relationship between the writer, the narrator (who must accept matter-of-factly the strange nature of this world whether or not it is new), the ideal implied reader (who also is familiar with the fantasy world), and the real reader (who pretends to be familiar with the unfamiliar, but who also is aware of being different). I am intrigued by this sentence: "We experience the pleasure of its otherness by pretending to not be different from it." The complex series of relationships, he suggests, is part of what contributes to the reader finding pleasure in a "conciousness of otherness."

I also liked Nodelman's assertion that the narrator "should be focused on the story, not on the world in which it occurs nor on its meaning." For me, as a sometimes-fantasy-lover, this is a big factor in whether I enjoy a fantasy or not. I don't have a lot of patience for endless description of a world or its rules if it doesn't contribute to the story. Nodelman's point helps me clarify my particular taste within this genre. I don't think, however, that this is true for all fantasy readers - I know many people who adore the very part of fantasy novels that bore me.

Tamora Pierce (and oh, how I love her) calls fantasy "a literature of possibilities" and of empowerment. She points out what seems to me to be an identifying feature of fantasy stories: the fact that "in fantasy, those normally perceived of as unimportant are vital players." I also liked that she didn't dismiss the very real value of escapism.

Chet Rayne had a very different approach to fantasy, looking at how children's imiginative and fantastical writing - more so than science fact books - helps create the "habits of mind" so crucial for scientific exploration and inquiry. Rayne see fantasy as part of the literature that supports creativity, voracious observation, and and understanding of rules and variation in rules. How lovely to think about scientific theory as a kind of fantasy - that which we cannot often see, sometimes cannot prove, and which has its own set of internal logic and rules.

Oh for a pile of good books and a deck near the ocean in the sun and a breeze off the water and a good sunhat and comfortable chair and a week without any responsibilities. Or a month, or... I can just about taste it.