Rose Blanche

Rose Blanche

Text by  Ian McEwan  (based on a story by Christophe Gallaz)

Illustrator:Roberto Innocenti

Publisher: First published by Jonathan Cape, 1985, edition featured Red Fox Books (Random House) 2004

Goodness me, this packs a mighty punch. I read this for the first time tonight, borrowed from our local library. I normally find books that I can read aloud to a few of my children at once, but I read this tonight with just Alf (age 7). It was a tender read. He asked lots of questions about this book, a book which depicts a German child's experience of World War II. It really was hard not to well up when he said, 'Rose Blanche looks the same age as me is she?' In bringing the horrors of the Holocaust to such a young audience, the author and illustrator have been very brave here, and have as such, offered a remarkable and valuable piece of Holocaust education.    

The sepia grain of Roberto Innocenti's illustrations are haunting, and his work in this book resonates that of political mural artists, such as Diego Rivera, with emotions etched on the faces of the victors and the victims alike. With shallow eyes and the shadow on faces of those exhausted, desperate and afraid, my son really studied the page as we read. Alf responded to the realism in the illustrations particularly, associating Rose Blanche with a girl in his class at school. Both age and appearance of the protagonist allowed my seven year old to relate to the story, making this book very significant in terms of its contribution to the wider body of Holocaust literature, again being aimed at and indeed about, such young children. 

The heart wrenching subject matter of the Holocaust is introduced sensitively, through the eyes of the bystander child Rose Blanche.  The book is written from an observational perspective, in third person narration, but more so, in that the central character, Rose, is managing to carry on with her life relatively untouched by what is happening around her, until she witnesses children in her town being mysteriously taken away against their will. 'Innocence' and especially the innocence of children, is a prevalent theme here, and contrasts nicely against the fat, vulgar, cowardly mayor character. As the story unfolds, Rose's curiosity, sympathy and compassion, lead her to follow the lorry that 'pale faces in the gloom' are packed in to.The child victims in the concentration camp are at first, poignantly portrayed in long shot, as 'motionless' as their description. Their faces are obscured by the wire, which led Alf to ask questions about why these children were inside, and Rose was on the outside, then why the children were not fed, and why Rose brought them food. Alf was also able to pick up on a lot of the danger and fear faced by the children in the camp and Rose herself, as Ian McEwan uses a subtle, age appropriate signifies, such as 'winter', 'chilly', 'silent', 'sad', 'hungry' keeping the language of the book comprehensible to young children (6 and upwards I would suggest). 

The conclusion of the book is incredibly sad, with Rose Blanche being shot as she makes her way to feed the children in the camp, her friends. Symbolism of hope rather than death is offered at the end of the book, with spring emerging from the battlefield wastelands; 'spring has triumphed' closes the story.  

This book makes such a compelling and important contribution to foundation years children's literature. It's a hard hitting read, raising lots of questions, on a subject that, as Alf and I agreed tonight, must always be remembered. 

Not Now, Bernard

Author and Illustrator: David Mckee
Publisher: First published by Andersen Press Ltd, 1980. Featured edition published, Andersen Press Ltd, 2012 

Now here's a very dark book. It leaves me with a puzzled look. It takes a jab at parents, or a particular parenting style/ type, or is it taking a stance on children? (should they be 'seen and not heard'?)...and that's why I like this children's book, it's thought-provoking, and really designed as a cautionary tale to adults.

Economical with words, but telling a big story, Not Now, Bernard is about a little boy looking to attract the attention of his parents. He walks from dad to mum, interrupting / interacting as his parents get on with household jobs. Bernard has a knack of speaking to his parents just at crucial moments, so his dad, hammering a nail in the wall in order to put a picture up, bashes his thumb, his mum is watering a pot plant as the pot cracks and drips water over the table. Both parents dismiss Bernard and his mum ignores Bernard's observation that 'there's a monster in the garden.' 'Bernard went into the garden.'  Bernard is then eaten by the monster.

This dry humour then darkens further, as the monster enters the kitchen: the monster is ignored and dismissed by Bernard's mum. A lovely illustration shows the monster puzzled, looking directly at us (the reader). Bernard's father is reading a newspaper, his thumb now bandaged. The monster bites the leg of the father, and the chorus retort is again shouted, 'not now,  Bernard.'   Continuing to show no worry, interest, fear in the monster, Bernard's mother shouts Bernard (who of course is eaten by the monster) to tea. Tea is left in front of the the television (another moment of detachment / practical parenting, depending on your perspective...I expect the author intended the former here, but as a parent of four, I do have a little sympathy for the parents (sorry author David Mckee!). The monster (Bernard himself?) shows signs of being increasingly bored and angry alone in his room. Still ignoring the monster/ or oblivious unintentionally (?) Bernard's mother sends Bernard to bed (the monster obliges).

  

So this is a very intelligent children's book. it makes some interesting suggestions, comments, but leaves the interpretation and inference firmly with the reader (at least I think it does, I might be missing something?). Are Bernard's parents emotionally abusive? They ignore Bernard, he seeks their attention, they don't meet his emotional needs, yet mum has her pinafore on tending to all Bernard's physical needs (keeping home). Is Bernard the monster? His parents are 'genuinely' busy (though are they as the types of jobs they're doing aren't crucial), Bernard is being very needy, and has a vivid imagination (he can see monsters)- is he lying (again?). Does Bernard become the Monster, rather than being eaten by the monster? Is ignoring a 'monster-child' a good way to cope with a 'monster-child', not remarking on the anti-social behaviours? But then, why is Bernard a monster child in the first place?  These are just a few of the questions the book opens up. Its a psychology undergraduate's dream! Themes we could take from this book include, parent-child relationships (attachment theory/ bonding/ interaction), child psychology (imagination, pestering, boredom), neglect, abandonment, abuse, childhood, adulthood, family dynamics, transference... the list goes on.    

On a less analytical note maybe, Not Now, Bernard is a comedy. My children love the parents' voices growling, 'Not Now, Bernard' at their child (especially if you make mum's voice deep too). The unexpected works well to grab interest (in what other book does the main protagonist get eaten by a purple monster?) It's also humorous on the very principle that children don't necessarily 'read' an alternative ending. Tonight I suggested to Bert (age 5) that Bernard is the Monster.  'No', he said, earnestly, 'It said the monster ate him.' 'Bernard is dead forever.' (eek, and my child said that so matter-of-fact!)

Interestingly the book makes Bert feel quite uncomfortable, he's the sort of child that doesn't break rules and isn't 'a bit of the monster'. The book appeals hugely to Edie (age 3) who break lots of rules and loves hearing that others are 'naughty'. On the basis of it's invitation to put on funny voices and the bright, basic pictures, you could easily read this book to very young children (toddlers), but those children of six years and upward, can really start picking at the comprehension and nuances,and the contradictions in this book.

In terms of the humour, it reminds me very much of the macabre disappearance of the rabbit in I want my hat back by Jon Klassen (I wonder whether this story inspired Klassen's dark thoughts there).  

In all, the book feels very blunt, very short and very critical (of society, children, parenting), but I really enjoy that David Mckee has opened this debate, and applaud the fact he does this in a children's story. It is clever, undoubtedly clever.