Opinion
Celebrities must stop writing children’s books immediately
Thomas Mitchell
Culture reporterOne of the most annoying things about having children is that people give them presents. It’s almost always stuff you don’t want or need, and you must feign excitement on their behalf. “Oh my god, amazing” is a phrase I regularly deploy, usually while holding something awful like a giant xylophone or a bear that screams the alphabet in Spanish.
Occasionally, however, you will have a friend who wants to avoid buying your kid more useless junk and instead only gives books. On the surface, this is great. We love books, and reading is essential – all the experts say so.
Unfortunately, the time has come for a public service announcement. The children’s book industry is in crisis, hijacked by the very same people who have already ruined alcohol brands: celebrities.
What do Ash Barty, Tony Armstrong, Zoe Foster Blake, NRL player Tom Trbojevic, late-night host Jay Leno, Oscar winner Natalie Portman, rapper Lil Nas X, Madonna and Channing Tatum all have in common? They’ve all written their own children’s books.
Not content with being rich, beloved and attractive, celebrities are increasingly turning their hands to authoring books for kids, meaning every second book that turns up at our house is written by someone famous.
Last week, a friend came over with a stack of new books for my two-year-old son, Archie, among them the best-selling Do Not Open this Book series by Andy Lee. Andy Lee seems like a nice guy, but something was amusing about overhearing my friend justifying to Archie why he should be excited. “It’s by Andy Lee,” he said. “You know, like from Hamish and Andy.” As if Archie might respond, “Oh, that Andy, how good, let’s get into it!”
Instead, he considered it briefly, placed it on the floor and then opened his favourite book, the Mem Fox classic, It’s Time for Bed.
Admittedly, Lee’s books are quite good, so I can only imagine what Archie might’ve made of Jamie Oliver’s disastrous foray into children’s publishing.
Earlier this week, the British celebrity chef’s second children’s book, Billy and the Epic Escape, was pulled from shelves following complaints from a First Nations educational body over cultural insensitivity and trivialisation.
The book includes a sub-plot set in Alice Springs in which the novel’s villain abducts a First Nations girl living in foster care in an Indigenous community. According to the book’s publisher, Penguin Random House UK, no consultation with any Indigenous organisation or individual was undertaken before publication.
A celebrity doing something without thinking is hardly news, and, according to his carefully worded statement, Oliver was devastated by this situation. I suspect he may also have been shocked to learn he had written a new children’s book.
But the entire episode was a timely reminder of a crucial life lesson: just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
Writing for children is an art form, one that requires discipline, creativity and skill, qualities honed through years of practice and crippling rejection. A good children’s book is the sum of all those parts: charming, meaningful, funny and most importantly, able to be read aloud, night after night, for months on end, without driving parents insane.
Do you think Channing Tatum tortured himself rewriting The One and Only Sparkella and the Big Lie? Was Tom Trbojevic losing sleep over the viability of The Turbo Pup? How many knock-backs before Meghan Markle’s The Bench was given the go-ahead?
The nature of celebrity is that you are surrounded by enablers who make it easy to cut out the hard parts. The Rock wants to release his own tequila? Fine. Ryan Reynolds fancies owning a football club? Let’s make it happen.
Unfortunately, the industry’s fragility means the lure of a big name will always intoxicate publishers. Attach a famous face, and the publicity machine takes care of itself, providing a shortcut to morning show TV appearances and glowing reviews.
However, obvious Jamie Oliver-style catastrophes aside, publishers would be wise to remember that, in the end, it’s a long game. Having spent countless hours reading to my son, it is no accident that Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon is considered a classic, whereas Jimmy Fallon’s Your Baby’s First Word Will Be Dada is not.
Ultimately, the most cynical part about this business model is that it’s not designed with children in mind. Adults spend the money, and they’re the ones impressed that Ludacris released a kid’s book.
Sorry to return to our friend Andy Lee, though I suspect he won’t mind, given that he has already sold more than 3.5 million copies of his books. But next time you’re sitting down to read with a child in your life, maybe Do Not Open this Book and pick something else instead.
Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at thomas.mitchell@smh.com.au or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.
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