In our house, I have banned all mention of Book Week until at least May. When the kids were younger, it was cute to hear them workshop costume ideas based on their latest literary fave. But now I struggle to feign excitement for detailed breakdowns of 51 Book Week outfits that are simply never going to happen.
But the real controversy this year is that our youngest’s new school has a tradition whereby all graduating students come as the same character. I totally get the rationale. The sweet visual spectacle aside, the idea of forking out a mere $10 for an off-the-rack costume is blessed relief for parents burned out by last minute costume hunts. No more tears on the parade morning when the wardrobe is inexplicably bare of suitable attire for Gruffalos, Hobbits or bus-driving pigeons. No more costly same-day Amazon deliveries of wizard cloaks that don’t fit.
None of these practicalities dampened our 11-year-old’s rage. It didn’t help that this year’s choice was Cat in the Hat – a decision probably inspired more by mass costume availability than anything else. At least she wasn’t there last year, when the whole class went as Minions – a choice that is, most definitely, not a book.
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Given one of our youngest’s top choices this year was to go as a cane toad from Morris Gleitzman’s Toad series (her favourite), I am grateful for the easy way out. Not for me those hours of applying and removing green paint. I am all too aware of the pressure that bringing a fictional favourite to life can put on time-short parents – almost always the mums – who might themselves rather be reading.
And yet, as our family approaches the end (please, God) of Book Week parades, I am aware that all those photos of past parades amount to a living history of our kids’ lost passions and personae.
Because the real reason our youngest was so enraged wasn’t that she didn’t like the Cat in the Hat, it was because she had never wanted to bethe Cat in the Hat. Certainly not as much as she has wanted to be a cane toad.
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Every August, Book Week has given our kids a chance to show us not just their favourite books, but how they see themselves at this particular moment in their lives.
Our eldest has been Roberta from The Railway Children(complete with detachable red petticoat for flagging down a steam train), Jane Doe from Jeremy Lachlan’s tetralogyand Rhiannon Williams’ Ottilie Colter. Our youngest has gone from being the star of What the Ladybird Heardto Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching.Revisiting those old photos is like watching a parade of past lives.
I have nothing but sympathy for parents of non-readers trying to force their kids into costumes they don’t want to wear (and the parents don’t want to make). That said, one day off per year from football jerseys probably isn’t too much to ask.
There’s a definite tension between being inclusive of reluctant readers and celebrating reading in a way that might actually make it seem more appealing. Too often, it’s the literary that gives way. You don’t see kids turning up to Derby Day dressed as Anne of Green Gables or Gandalf the Grey.
Characters have come and gone in our household, but what has remained is a passion for stories (our youngest mostly prefers audiobooks and graphic novels these days, which definitely count). How wonderful to have one day a year to share that passion with their peers.
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What the parade does – when not dominated by football stars and Ninja Turtles – is promote extraordinary characters that lure kids into the broader world of reading. Here are all those friends and other versions of yourself that you can only find in a book.
There is always something exposing about sharing your passions with the world, particularly those of a cultural or tasteful nature. Maybe the reason we parents spend all that time and money putting together costumes is not to allow our kids to show off, but to encourage them to risk being vulnerable about stuff they like, in the hope other kids might like it too.
In an age when children have so many other forms of entertainment trying to constantly summon them away from the page, Book Week offers a reminder that books aren’t just a fount of identity and empathy and creativity, but a source of intense pleasure.
That said, we did buy the cheapo Cat in the Hat outfit this year. Mainly because 59 Cats and one cane toad probably wouldn’t be a good look at assembly. But there’s always next year to get creative again. I suspect the planning has already begun.
