On storytime, didacticism, and the books that make a restless room go quiet
Rachel Bachman writes about children’s books with refreshing candour. On her Substack Excuse My Whimsy, she draws on her daily experience as a librarian in Nebraska, and discusses how great books work their magic with kids – and how others fall flat. We spoke to Rachel about what kids look for in books, how adults get this wrong sometimes, and the books she reaches for when a room full of children needs to be won over.
You’re not afraid of calling out things you see wrong with people’s attitude towards children’s books, and with what’s not working within children’s publishing – and I have found this sort of frank discussion to be rare. Are your arguments generally well-received, or do you get push-back?
The responses have definitely been mixed. People who work with children regularly tend to agree passionately because they understand that we are not working with theoretical or idealized children—we are working with real children.
So many adults get caught up in a kind of fairy-tale vision of picture books and reading. Not every storytime looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, with perfectly still children absorbing every word and immediately adding it to their vocabulary. Children may wiggle, interrupt, laugh at unexpected moments, or become obsessed with books that adults do not consider sufficiently literary. But just because children are not enjoying the books some adults believe they should enjoy does not mean they are not enjoying books.
That disconnect is why I feel so strongly about addressing the attitudes adults bring to children’s literature. After all, who are these books for? Children. Most children cannot address the publishing world directly, so I have taken it upon myself to speak on their behalf.
What do you think people most get wrong about picture books?
I think many people fail to understand that children read, and enjoy being read to, for many of the same reasons adults do. They want to be entertained. They want stories about subjects that interest them. Sometimes they simply want a delightful escape.
Well-intentioned adults often become preoccupied with asking, “What is this book doing for my child?” But “delighting them” is a perfectly acceptable answer. When was the last time you chose a novel specifically to increase your vocabulary by ten percent? How often do you pick up a dense science book simply because someone else believes it would be good for you? Most adults read because they are curious, interested, moved, or entertained. Children do too.
A picture book does not need to disguise a lesson, build a measurable skill, or justify itself through educational outcomes. Sometimes making a child laugh, wonder, or eagerly ask to hear it again is more than enough.
In his book ‘Make Believe,’ Mac Barnett calls didacticism “the enemy of good storytelling”. Do you agree? Is there a way to do both at the same time – make a book with a strong message that kids also adore?
I largely agree. I do not think having a message is the enemy of good storytelling, but didacticism often is. There is a difference between a story that has something meaningful to say and a story that exists primarily to teach children what an adult believes they ought to learn.
Children can usually feel when a book is more interested in instructing them than entertaining them. The characters begin to sound like mouthpieces, the plot exists only to prove the lesson, and the ending tells the reader exactly what they were supposed to take away. At that point, the child is no longer being invited into a story; they are being given a lecture in picture-book form.
But books can absolutely carry strong messages and still be adored by children. The message simply has to grow naturally from compelling characters, humor, emotion, conflict, and story. Children should care about what happens before they are asked to care about what it means.
I also think adults sometimes underestimate children’s ability to interpret stories for themselves. A book does not always need to explain its own lesson. Often the most powerful books trust children to notice, question, empathize, and arrive at meaning on their own.
So yes, a picture book can do both—but the story must come first. If children love the characters, laugh at the right moments, feel something genuine, and ask to hear the book again, the message will often reach them far more effectively than it would if the author had placed it front and center.
You’ve written about the lack of books for boys in a certain age group. What do you think boys want to see in books that’s currently not there?
In my experience, there is a noticeable lack of books featuring male protagonists once readers move beyond picture books and into early chapter books and middle grade, particularly for children between roughly eight and thirteen.
Of course, boys can and should read books about girls. But they should also have opportunities to see themselves reflected in stories. That becomes especially difficult for boys who are not interested in fantasy, because so many of the books available to them fall into that genre.
The popularity of series like Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Big Nate shows that many boys are interested in contemporary stories about ordinary boyhood—friendships, family, school, embarrassment, humor, and everyday problems. Their appeal is not simply that they include illustrations. Young readers are connecting with the characters and situations.
I would love to see more contemporary books that build on that interest. When a child comes to the library and asks me for something like Diary of a Wimpy Kid, I want to be able to offer several genuinely appealing choices. Too often, the options run out quickly. When that happens, a child’s reading journey can come to an abrupt halt just as they are beginning to discover what kind of reader they might become.
The common misalignment between what kids enjoy and what gets put in front of them feels inherent to the medium. Do you think there’s anything that can be done to address this?
We have already discussed didacticism, which is one of the largest problems I see. But another issue is that too many children’s books function primarily as vanity projects for their creators.
Publishing a book is a tremendous accomplishment, and authors and illustrators deserve recognition for their work. But there are far too many books in which the children who will actually read them seem to have been the final consideration. A children’s author needs to be motivated by more than the desire to claim the title of published author. They need to be genuinely interested in children: what makes them laugh, what frightens them, what fascinates them, how they speak, and what they choose when an adult is not choosing for them.
The fact that adults create and publish children’s books does make some degree of misalignment inevitable, but it can be reduced. Authors, editors, and publishers need to spend more time listening to people who work directly with children—and, whenever possible, to children themselves. They should pay attention not only to what adults praise, purchase, or consider important, but also to which books children request repeatedly, recommend to one another, carry around, quote, and refuse to return to the library.
Writers also need to test their assumptions against real children. A room full of adults may admire a book’s message, visual sophistication, or literary merit, but children will reveal very quickly whether the story actually holds their attention. Their reactions should not be dismissed as evidence that they need to be taught to appreciate the “right” books. Their reactions are valuable information about whether the book is succeeding with its intended audience.
Ultimately, I think the solution is humility. Adults have enormous control over what is written, published, purchased, reviewed, and placed into children’s hands. We need to remember that this authority does not make us the primary audience. Children’s books should not exist merely to display an adult’s talent, values, or good intentions. The child reading the book has to matter from the beginning.
After half a decade of being a librarian, do you still get surprised at which books are popular with kids?
My job is full of delightful surprises, and that is one of the reasons I adore it. Sometimes the specific plots or premises still catch me completely off guard. I recently read The Wise Pickle by Sarah Howden, and of course a story about an insightful preserved vegetable surprised me. How could it not?
But the broader reasons children respond to certain books usually do not surprise me. This is a book that makes children laugh. It has a premise that makes readers of any age want to lean in and hear more. Most importantly, it was clearly written with children in mind.
So yes, the details still surprise me every day—but that is great news for authors with strange ideas. Wild premises work all the time. The most original children’s books can be wonderfully unpredictable, while still doing the same essential things: captivating children, holding their attention, and giving them a reason to ask for the book again.
Can you give a few examples of books, old or new, that kids are really enjoying?
There are so many wonderful children’s books that it is difficult to choose just a few. Instead, I’ll share some of the books I currently keep close at hand for tougher storytimes—the ones I reach for when the room is restless because children usually cannot resist listening:
- Squish by Breanna Carzoo
- The Wide-Mouthed Frog by Keith Faulkner
- Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type by Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin
- Mina by Matthew Forsythe
- Mel Fell by Corey R. Tabor
- Peck, Peck, Peck by Lucy Cousins
- Duck on a Bike by David Shannon
- Buffalo Fluffalo by Bess Kalb and Erin Kraan
These books are very different from one another, but they all understand their audience. They have strong read-aloud rhythms, memorable premises, humor, suspense, or opportunities for children to participate. Even when a group is distracted, these are the kinds of books that make heads turn toward the story.
Explore Rachel’s Substack, Excuse My Whimsy, or find her on Bluesky: @rachelbachman.bsky.social
Further reading: Who is This Book Actually For? An opinion piece on the gap between what children want and what adults choose for them