(From l.): Shaun Tan, Mariken Jongman, Neil Gaiman and moderator Andrea Davis Pinkney. Photo © Susan Kuklin. |
Shaun Tan was a small kid who compensated for his short stature by aspiring to be the best artist in school. Mariken Jongman was a shy girl who had only an imaginary friend to keep her company. Neil Gaiman was an energetic mischief-maker who excelled at the school subjects that interested him, and failed miserably at those which did not. Though they came from different backgrounds and had vastly different childhoods, they all eventually grew up to become celebrated children’s book authors. And to hear them tell it, they are as surprised as anyone.
The three writers came together last Thursday night at a PEN World Voices Festival panel called “Leaps and Bounds, Fits and Starts: The Evolution of a Children’s Book Writer.” In keeping with the theme of the panel, and of the festival as a whole—the idea of evolution—moderator Andrea Davis Pinkney began the evening by challenging Tan, Jongman and Gaiman to explore where they had come from as writers, beginning with their childhoods and early literary influences.
Shaun Tan, who was raised in an Australian community that he fondly described as “idyllic yet boring,” explained how his mother, who wanted her two sons who receive a better education than she did, read Animal Farm aloud to Shaun and his brother, thinking that it was a children’s book. Tan said that he and his brother loved the story, as “it related to everything that went on at the playground every day,” and that it was only later, when he reached high school, that he discovered that Animal Farm’s socialist metaphors were intended for adults.
Mariken Jongman, who grew up in Amsterdam, said that she thought little about writing as a child, considering it “boring.” Instead, she dreamed of becoming an actress and singer. As an adult, she has managed to combine all three, she explained, as she is a singer-songwriter and is active in theater, often performing in self-penned scripts for children’s theatre.
Neil Gaiman recalled that, as a child, his imagination had always been active, but that he was often told by teachers that before he could be eccentric, he must first “know where the circle was.” He never considered that he might have been an odd child, though, until he had children of his own. “When your third child has passed the age of seven,” he said, “and has not voluntarily alphabetized their bookcase, you start to wonder about yourself.”
Unlike Tan and Jongman, who have become well-known primarily for their work in children’s literature, Gaiman’s career as a writer has evolved as he himself has evolved. Gaiman began as a writer of comic books, Pinkney noted in her introduction, “before anyone called them graphic novels.” He then moved to adult genre-spanning novels, and after having children of his own, decided to try his hand at writing children’s books (including Coraline, which was recently made into an animated film; and the most recent Newbery winner, The Graveyard Book). While Gaiman says he has always considered writing for children “special,” becoming a parent blessed him with what he believes is a gold mine of inspiration. “All of a sudden, you have these amazing little people living in your house, and you can steal their ideas.” In fact, the idea for his forthcoming picture book, Crazy Hair, was so “inspired” by one of his daughters that he has promised her the profits as a college fund.
As the panel discussion continued to trace the evolution of each writer, the question was eventually raised of how much of the writer’s self goes into the story he or she is writing. Jongman, who has often said that the main character in her book Rits is essentially her, explained that although she initially saw herself only in the character of Rits, a 13-year-old boy, halfway through the process of writing the book, she realized that she was also reflected in the character of Uncle Corry, a couch potato. “I was so happy that I didn’t realize that before,” she exclaimed. “Knowing that would have made it more difficult to write.”
Tan often goes one step further by not only reflecting pieces of his personality in characters, but also using his own likeness when he is illustrating his books. “There is no one else who would put up with what I go though,” he said, referring to his time-consuming process of examining angles and expression for the artwork.
Gaiman, whose characters over the years have ranged from a personification of dreams, to a girl who must fight to avoid having buttons sewn over her eyes, says that he believes that characters are always going to reflect the writer somehow. “Characters are always you,” he said, “because that’s what you’ve got.”