Now that Book Week celebrations have wrapped up, costumes have been packed away and authors have finalised school visits, I’m left pondering the significance of the week that was.
As a child growing up in Australia, Book Week was a magical event on my calendar. It was my first dressing-up experience, long before Halloween was even a thing in Australia. As one book week would end, my mind would ponder what my next dress-up might be. The book week dress-up at my school was a major event, think of Halloween dress-up in the US, book week dress-ups at my school hit the just the same.
Now, as a teacher and a librarian, I’ve thought a lot about this practice, why the dress up. Does it help readers? Is it needed? And why does this day exist? Surely not to just increase the sales of glue guns and costumes. What if, for this post, we take the dress-ups off Book Week and allow it to parade in its plain clothes? Will Book Week still hold magic?
This year marks an impressive milestone for Book Week, as the Children’s Book Council of Australia (CBCA) celebrates its 80th anniversary. The CBCA founded Book Week as a way to recognise outstanding books in Australian children’s literature. In this way, Book Week emerged as a means to promote Australian literature.
Just think, 80 years of books. I can only imagine the change in the landscape of children’s literature in Australia that the CBCA has witnessed. When Book Week began, both of my parents were in their early years of primary school, and if we could travel back to the bookshelves of their childhoods, it would be almost impossible to spot an Australian Author. Instead, they were filled with the famous five characters of Enid Blyton, AA Milne’s Winnie the Pooh and friends, CS Lewis’ The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe and Tom Sawyer.
If we travel forward in time to my school days, the literary landscape had changed. By the time I entered my school library, the CBCA had been around for 40ish years. Although many of the ‘famous” authors of my childhood were still British or American (Roald Dahl, Allen Alhburg, R.L Stine and A. A. Martin), there was now a distinct difference; my school library was stocked with great Australian authors. Huge selections of texts from prolific writers like Mem Fox, Margaret Wild, Emily Rodda, Paul Jennings and Morris Gleitzman were prominent in my school library. The stories of these authors, and other Australian authors, defined my childhood. I remember vividly listening to ‘Rose and Mr Wintergarden’ by Bob Graham being read to me in kindergarten. In Year 1, I desperately wanted to write like Mem Fox in ‘Koala Lou’. In Year 2, the rhymes of ‘Let it Rip Potato Chip’ were playground anthems. When the reading slump hit me in Year 3, the ‘Mango Street Stories’ by Margaret Clarke brought me back to the library. In Year 5, I vividly recall relating to the protagonist’s struggles in Bumface by Morris Gleitzman as my teacher read the book aloud. There was a literal stream of Australian literature running throughout my childhood, telling stories about places I knew and people like me, reflecting my Australian life on their pages.
What more proof can there be that this week is magic? Book Week transformed what is read in Australia, and continues to do so. It paved the way for a children’s book industry in Australia. It promoted children’s literature in the most important place, in schools. It shone a light on Australian books, allowing teachers and librarians to find them amidst imported fiction. And in this way, a week that occurs once every year has altered what children in our schools read and have access to. For many schools, the nominated books of Book Week are what they set aside library budget for. Every time the nominated or shortlisted books of Book Week are added to a library, they alter the library collection, perhaps just slightly, but they alter it nonetheless. And all these slight alterations to a collection spanning over 80 years have had a profound impact. It is highly probable that without the Book Week, there would not be a flourishing Australian Children’s Literature industry.
The enormity of what the CBCA has achieved hit me straight in the heart during a conversation I had with my 9-year-old son this week. I had told him that this was the 80th anniversary of the Children’s Book Council of Australia. As I did, he looked off into the distance, clearly calculating something. He turned back to me and said, “So in 20 years it’ll be the 100th anniversary of the CBCA?”
“Yes,” I told him, “and it might be your book shortlisted then.”
And as I said this, my son’s eyes lit up, he realised that, yes, in fact, there is a children’s book industry in Australia. An industry that will allow children like him to become writers and create in their own right, to write their stories about the Australia they live in.
You see, it isn’t just the knowledge that my children and grandchildren will see the diversity and richness of Australia featured in their school libraries; it is the hope of a booming Australian children’s literature industry that will continue to prosper as long as Book Week does, that is the real magic of Book Week.
So, in the rush of dressing up and parades, scheduled activities, author visits, colouring-in competitions, and the rest, let’s take a moment to acknowledge how lucky we are to be in a country that actively promotes homegrown literature, a country that continually inspires creativity.
