I. [FICTION.]
We were recently asked to make out a list of a dozen books suitable as prizes for a Sunday-school class of boys and girls from 12 to 16 years of age. We studied a long and carefully prepared list of stories written for girls of this age and supposed to include what was most desirable. Assuming that the girls had read Mrs. Whitney and Miss Alcott, we did not consider them, and we found not one story which we could recommend as possessing permanent interest and literary value. There were many books which girls read and like but they did not reach a fair standard for this purpose. We filled out the desired number for the girls with books written for older readers. Far different was our experience with the books for the boys. It was only a matter of choice between a large number, both suitable and desirable, and yet the lists which we consulted had been compiled by the same hand.
In making selections of books for her readers, the children's librarian encounters at the first step this difference in the quality of the books written for boys and those written for girls. Judged purely by the standard of taste, she must reject the greater proportion of those written for girls. When she finds so few that reach her standard she may blame herself for ignorance of the better books, but she must ultimately reach the conclusion that whatever her own shortcomings there is a lack of desirable books for girls. However, another most important factor comes into the case on the reader's side of the question. If the librarian is going to meet the needs of her readers she must understand what they are instinctively seeking in books, and she must enlist herself on the side of human nature. She will find at once that a distinct division in the reading of boys and girls springs from the fact that, generally speaking, the mental life of the boy is objective, that of the girl subjective. The boy seeks action in fiction, the girl is attracted by that which moves her emotionally or relates itself directly to her own consciousness, and the last thing that either of them cares about is the literary value of the book. Hundreds—no doubt thousands—of our college graduates look back to the period when, according to their sex, the "Oliver Optic" series, or the "Elsie Dinsmore" series, played a very important part in their existence. The love of adventure in the boy gave the charm to the books. Adventure he must have, whether he finds it in the tinsel setting of Oliver Optic or the refined gold of Robert Louis Stevenson. And the magnet in the nature of the girl draws to herself something helpful even from Martha Finley; otherwise, she would not speak of the "Elsie" books as "beautiful": there is something in them which to her represents "beauty." Nevertheless, while justly condemning the Oliver Optic and the Elsie books as cheap, tawdry things, the librarian must seek among better authors the holding quality on the nature of the child which these books possess. She must search for books in which these elements of interest are incarnated in what we call literature—books which, while rivalling these in attraction, will at the same time refine and broaden the taste of the reader.
Now, the lovers of Oliver Optic and Mrs. Finley do not take kindly to the classics and as, in the modern stories for young people, few will pass muster as literature, all that the librarian of to-day can do is to use her judgment and discrimination among those the writers have provided. The boys are readily turned from Oliver Optic to Henty, Tomlinson, Jules Verne, and on to "Ivanhoe," but with the girls the case is hard. The girl tells us that she likes stories about boarding-school. It is a capital subject: in the hands of a writer sympathetic with girls, of fertile imagination and vigorous power of characterization, boarding-school life affords material for most entertaining combinations—but the literature of the boarding-school has yet to be written. The average boarding-school story has three main characters—the attractive, impulsive heroine, always getting into trouble; the cruel, cold-blooded, unscrupulous rival, habitually dealing in falsehood, and the teacher who is singularly devoid of discernment or intuition. The heroine inevitably falls into the snare of the rival, and things are usually set right all around by a death-bed scene—although actual death is sometimes averted. "Louie's last term at St. Mary's" is one of the better stories of this kind, and Mrs. Spofford's "Hester Stanley at St. Mark's" is fairly well written, with a touch of the charm of the author's personality. "Chums," by Maria Louise Pool, is one of the worst of its kind, where envy, hatred, and malice run riot through the pages and the actors in the story are wholly lacking in vitality. The experiences of Miss Phelps's "Gypsy Breynton" and Susan Coolidge's "Katy" are as satisfactory pictures of boarding school life as we have; and Helen Dawes Brown's "Two college girls" is a good story. "Brenda, her school and her club," by Helen L. Reed, is a recent valuable addition to books for girls.
In stories of home life Miss Alcott still easily takes the lead, with Susan Coolidge and Sophie May following in merit and popularity. The boys have an excellent story of home life in Rossiter Johnson's "Phaeton Rogers." The setting is perfectly simple, every day surroundings, but the characters have the abounding vitality that keeps things moving. The entertaining succession of events proceeds directly and naturally from the ingenuity and healthy activity of the young people grouped together. The book is a model in this respect as well as in the use of colloquial English which never loses a certain refinement. Every boy, while reading "Phaeton Rogers," finds himself in touch with good companions—and this is true as well, in Charles Talbot's books for boys and girls.
The most important books for boys are the historical stories, appealing at once to the hero worship and the love of adventure common to boyhood; at the same time they should give a good general idea of history. The story in historical setting is, also, most desirable for girls—in that it balances the too subjective tendency; it carries the mind of the reader beyond the emotional condition of the heroine—indeed the heroine has no time to study her own emotions when brought into vital relation with stirring events. Apart from the value of the historical facts imparted is the indirect but more valuable habit of mind cultivated in the girl reader. Vivid, stirring, absorbing stories for girls can be and should be written in this field, which is practically unlimited. Miss Yonge has done some good service here. "The prince and the pauper" and the "Last days of Pompeii" are also illustrations of the kind of work that should be done—they are both strong in the direct interrelation between the imaginary characters and real history—and both appeal alike to the boy and the girl.
Books written with a direct moral purpose seldom achieve popularity with boys—and yet one of the most popular of all their books is "Captains courageous," which is of the highest moral value though without one line of religious preaching in its pages. Here the boys are in touch with a real, living character, acted upon and developed, through the moulding pressure of life itself—from first to last the aim of the story is the boy; and yet the moral outcome is simple, natural, inevitable and manly; it appeals to the common sense which is strong in boys.
Now when a woman writes for girls on the subject of the transformation of a frivolous butterfly into a girl of sense, instead of giving us character and action with a moral outcome, we have a religious setting with the action of the story and the conduct of the characters bent in every direction to illustrate the motive of the story—the religious idea.
The plastic nature of the young girl wrought upon by life, fresh faculties brought into activity by the hard knocks of fate or the sunbursts of good luck—although these things are happening every day in the real life of young girls, we yet await the writer who will put them into literature without sentimentalizing. What we want is the novel simplified; the story told directly, without byways of description or analysis; where healthy young people, neither saints nor prigs, nor creatures of affectation, jealousy, or malice, are acted upon by life and each other in a natural fashion.
Let boys and girls be brought together as in real life; brothers are a good element in girls' stories, and love affairs need not be excluded, if handled with delicacy, common sense and true feeling. Many books classed as novels are merely stories simply and clearly told, intended for older readers, but far better for young girls than the stories usually written for them. Miss Jeanie Gould Lincoln's stories and Mrs. J. G. Austin's historical novels, some of Mrs. Barr's and Mrs. Oliphant's novels and a wide range of other interesting, well-told stories can be substituted, if care and discrimination are used in the selection. Fortunately, too, many girls of twelve are ready for Dickens and other standard writers.