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Sam and the Tigers -Reply
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From: Megan Schliesman <mjschlie>
Date: Thu, 31 Oct 1996 11:06:58 -0600
Like Katy Horning, I, too, thought Julius Lester's use of Sam for all the characters in Sam and the Tigers, and for the name of the place, might have been an attempt at neutralizing, and even perhaps turning to positive, the word/name as it is attached to the story. It reminds me of how repeating a word over and over again can render it almost nonsensical and meaningless in our minds. In the context of Sam and the Tigers, Lester repeats "Sam" over and over again, and does so as he constructs what he certainly hoped would be a positive story. Likewise, when I think of Jerry Pinkney's illustrations (I'm afraid I don't have the book in front of me right now) I think of the vibrancy of Sam (the boy) and all the other Sams (his parents and the others in the wonderful community constructed out of the visual images of the book.
I can't help but think that children who have never been exposed to the original Little Black Sambo, and adults who grew up with the book and look upon it with understandable anger, and even adults who remember Little Black Sambo with fondness and nostalgia (for it is true that while LIttle Black Sambo is a hard, hurtful book for so many African-Americans, it is remembered with fondness and nostalgia by many in this country who did not take the demeaning images personally because they were not the ones being represented) might react differently to Sam and the Tigers. I'm just not sure what those different reactions might be.
As a white person who does not remember the story from her childhood at all, I was able to come to Sam and the Tigers without any personal feelings about Little Black Sambo from my childhood. I came to Sam and the Tigers hopefully. I want to think that for children, Sam and the Tigers can be a delightful story first and foremost. But can it be removed from the past? I thought it might be able to stand on its own, even with the historical attachments made in the author's and illustrator's notes. But Ginny Kruse's shocking revelation (at least shocking to me) that the original version of Little Black Sambo was being prominently featured in a national bookstore (along with Sam and the Tigers and Little Babaji) just floored me.
Now, quite honestly, I don't know what to think. I respect Lester's and Pinkney's desire to turn something that was so hard for so many into a positive experience for today's children by retelling the story and recasting the images (especially as the orignal version is still alive and well today in many parts of the country). I truly want their efforts to succeed: they can't wipe out the past, nor do I think that was their attempt, but they can make a statement: this is now our story. But once the story is created and the illustrations are drawn and the book is published and shipped, it is out of their control. And the fact that it may be used as a springboard to actively promote the original version of the story is, to say the least, ironic. I suppose one can argue that by comparing the versions, we can help children understand the past: but there is enough racism alive and well today that I don't think children need Little Black Sambo to underscore such an experience. And, of course, I doubt that comparing is on the minds of parents who visit bookstores and see a book they remember from their youth, whether it invokes pain or happy nostalgia for them. It will be interesting to know what the sales figures are for Little Black Sambo this year compared to previous years.
No book exists separate from those who read it and use it. It is that connection, in fact, that is the completion of any story. In the case of Sam and the Tigers, it seems that what each of us as adults bring to the story and illustrations is so much more than most books must bear: we bring our anger, our hopes, our pain, and yes, sometimes our fondness for another story. All tgat may stand in the way of our ever understanding what this book offers - if anything - for today's children. This seems like a tragic thing, but then I remember that bookstore display...like I said, I don't know what to think. How about you?
Megan Schliesman Cooperative Children's Book Center School of Education UW-Madison schliesman at mail.soemadison.wisc.edu
Received on Thu 31 Oct 1996 11:06:58 AM CST
Date: Thu, 31 Oct 1996 11:06:58 -0600
Like Katy Horning, I, too, thought Julius Lester's use of Sam for all the characters in Sam and the Tigers, and for the name of the place, might have been an attempt at neutralizing, and even perhaps turning to positive, the word/name as it is attached to the story. It reminds me of how repeating a word over and over again can render it almost nonsensical and meaningless in our minds. In the context of Sam and the Tigers, Lester repeats "Sam" over and over again, and does so as he constructs what he certainly hoped would be a positive story. Likewise, when I think of Jerry Pinkney's illustrations (I'm afraid I don't have the book in front of me right now) I think of the vibrancy of Sam (the boy) and all the other Sams (his parents and the others in the wonderful community constructed out of the visual images of the book.
I can't help but think that children who have never been exposed to the original Little Black Sambo, and adults who grew up with the book and look upon it with understandable anger, and even adults who remember Little Black Sambo with fondness and nostalgia (for it is true that while LIttle Black Sambo is a hard, hurtful book for so many African-Americans, it is remembered with fondness and nostalgia by many in this country who did not take the demeaning images personally because they were not the ones being represented) might react differently to Sam and the Tigers. I'm just not sure what those different reactions might be.
As a white person who does not remember the story from her childhood at all, I was able to come to Sam and the Tigers without any personal feelings about Little Black Sambo from my childhood. I came to Sam and the Tigers hopefully. I want to think that for children, Sam and the Tigers can be a delightful story first and foremost. But can it be removed from the past? I thought it might be able to stand on its own, even with the historical attachments made in the author's and illustrator's notes. But Ginny Kruse's shocking revelation (at least shocking to me) that the original version of Little Black Sambo was being prominently featured in a national bookstore (along with Sam and the Tigers and Little Babaji) just floored me.
Now, quite honestly, I don't know what to think. I respect Lester's and Pinkney's desire to turn something that was so hard for so many into a positive experience for today's children by retelling the story and recasting the images (especially as the orignal version is still alive and well today in many parts of the country). I truly want their efforts to succeed: they can't wipe out the past, nor do I think that was their attempt, but they can make a statement: this is now our story. But once the story is created and the illustrations are drawn and the book is published and shipped, it is out of their control. And the fact that it may be used as a springboard to actively promote the original version of the story is, to say the least, ironic. I suppose one can argue that by comparing the versions, we can help children understand the past: but there is enough racism alive and well today that I don't think children need Little Black Sambo to underscore such an experience. And, of course, I doubt that comparing is on the minds of parents who visit bookstores and see a book they remember from their youth, whether it invokes pain or happy nostalgia for them. It will be interesting to know what the sales figures are for Little Black Sambo this year compared to previous years.
No book exists separate from those who read it and use it. It is that connection, in fact, that is the completion of any story. In the case of Sam and the Tigers, it seems that what each of us as adults bring to the story and illustrations is so much more than most books must bear: we bring our anger, our hopes, our pain, and yes, sometimes our fondness for another story. All tgat may stand in the way of our ever understanding what this book offers - if anything - for today's children. This seems like a tragic thing, but then I remember that bookstore display...like I said, I don't know what to think. How about you?
Megan Schliesman Cooperative Children's Book Center School of Education UW-Madison schliesman at mail.soemadison.wisc.edu
Received on Thu 31 Oct 1996 11:06:58 AM CST
