When my 12-year-old daughter wanted to read my latest book, I discouraged her, because it addresses adult subjects, including organized rebellion against government (just the thought of which these days can label you a traitor), and it depicts sex and violence.
My 12-year-old. This is a girl who watches Bones and The X-Files, then switches over to The Learning Channel for Jon and Kate Plus 8, and dreams of becoming a forensic anthropologist like Temperance Brennan. I wish I could get her to read some of the original Tempe Brennan novels by Kathy Reichs, though. And if you’ve ever read any of them, you’re probably asking yourself…
Exactly why don’t I want her to read my book?
I don’t even actually do blood and gore like Kathy Riechs. My thing is deep characters and character interaction. I aspire to the utter revulsion that Kathy Reichs produces by her writing. I almost got it, I think, in Episode 4, Chapter 4, because while I was editing that chapter, I actually seethed with rage at the villain. (This is a villain that I myself dreamed up from my own demented psyche.) He literally tortures the hero in a violent rape that almost claims her life. But one reader told me “thank you” for stopping short of describing the entire ordeal in detail.
Little Brother, Who’s Watching Our Kids?
Then I read Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother. It’s published by Tor Teen, and of it Neil Gaiman said, “I’d want to get it into the hands of as many smart thirteen-year-olds, male and female, as I can.” Like my book, Little Brother is also a story of rebellion against government. And it depicts sex in at least as much detail as I have. And it depicts violence perpetrated by government officers in more detail than I have. And it depicts torture, and it doesn’t leave out the gory details of the ordeal.
This is a book being marketed to children almost as young as my daughter. And I don’t feel I should be outraged.
Rather, I feel like there must be some other reason why I don’t want my own daughter to read my work. Am I ashamed of the values I’ve communicated through my story? Am I afraid she’d see a side of her old man that I don’t want her to see? Am I really afraid she couldn’t handle it? Do I think it would make her uncomfortable? Or maybe I’m afraid it would make me uncomfortable. Am I afraid that she’ll want to try some of the things I’ve portrayed, things she maybe isn’t ready for? Or that she’ll fear the horrors I’ve portrayed? Am I afraid that she won’t know the difference between reality and fiction? Or that she won’t understand the words I wrote? Maybe I’m afraid that she’ll ask me questions. Or maybe that she won’t.
There’s a thread throughout these possibilities, however. It’s about me, not her. Shouldn’t it be about her? If she takes an interest, shouldn’t I support her in that interest?
Did I mention that we also watch Penn & Teller: Bullshit! on DVD together? (And not the cleaned-up Wal-mart DVD’s, either.) That’s definitely a together thing, because I don’t agree with every view they have. And there are definitely some episodes I don’t want her to watch alone–or even yet–because they’re bound to bring up issues. And now, you’re definitely wondering, Exactly why don’t you want her to read your book?
Growing Up with Sex and Politics
They say you should begin talking with your kids early about sex. And we have certainly done that. My wife and I, between the two of us, we have freely and openly answered any questions our daughters have asked. And they both are growing up, fast, and asking some adult questions, not just about sex and romance and love.
Wednesday, my younger daughter, 9, asked me about the presidential election. Apparently, they’re having a mock election at school. And I freely and openly answered her questions, filling her sponge-like mind with ideas that might have made her teacher want to call the DSS. Basically, you can’t believe a word either McCain or Obama says on the campaign trail, because it’s illegal to sue a politician for breaking his campaign promises, and the people who write the laws–politicians–are quite happy with that arrangement. I think somewhere in there I even got a jab in at Bill Clinton, because Paula Jones sued him while he was in office. (But not for breaking a campaign promise.) But my girls are too young to remember that. I’m not sure I clarified things for her or confused her further, because I seemed to be challenging notions she picked up from somewhere.
But then she did say: “Do I have to vote?”
“No,” I answered, “because you have a right to abstain. About half the people will not vote in the election.”
“Good, because I don’t even know anything about either one of them!”
Profound. That probably puts her one up on most voters.
(I’m not a cynic. Really. As Sir Humphrey said, “A cynic is what an idealist calls a realist.”)
She’s also been bugging me to finish a not-so-top-secret project I’ve been working on, People Stories, because she says it sounds like a good read. It’s a collection of short stories (fiction and true stories) and other works, all revolving around characters. I’ve already told her it will contain “Love Through the Eyes of an Idiot” and “Carolyn and Amanda in the Dark,” both of which she loves. She’s very much a people person.
But most of the stories, I don’t think she would get, because she’s only 9. One of the stories is about falling in love for the first time. In another, the main character has a very adult quirk: When he asks a girl out on a date, he first establishes that there’s a promise of sex involved.
I’m actually thinking of letting her read it.
-TimK
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This reminds me of the other day. I was watching the Michigan-MSU football game with my son. He has an autistic spectrum disorder and so we’re often lax on him during fits (sometimes he says some very bad words in the heat of an uncontrollable fit of anger). When he’s in control of himself though, we require him to watch his language especially in public.
My dad had only one rule about swearing. Don’t swear until you’re 18 in my house. I didn’t swear until I was 18 much and if I did, I had plenty of soap to remind me not to. My dad swore like a sailor though and made an art out of obscenities like nobody’s business. Well, I admit, I’m a bit of a sailor when it comes to sports.
Now that my son is older, I don’t watch my language quite so much. What I did do this particular Saturday was say after every swear word, “If I ever catch you repeating what I just said, you’ll be getting a bar of soap like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story.”” I don’t know why, but my partner, his mother, found this absolutely hilarious.
I guess your post reminded me of this because he is growing up. He does know these words and he is going to say them, soap or not. Still, as parents we are compelled to forever warn them against doing things that might be deemed…socially unacceptable or too adult for them. It can be embarrassing, especially with the topic of sex, to imagine your child has an interest in knowing and learning about these things, even if it is necessary they know.
Another funny story, that this post made me think of…I recently had to review the movie “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan”. My son is a huge Adam Sandler fan, so I let him watch it with me. I didn’t know how many sexual jokes were in the movie. He found them absolutely hilarious, but boy did I feel embarrassed during certain parts, watching it with him. Still, I’d rather I watch it with him, in case he had questions then let him catch it on a premium movie channel with no one around.
Man, it’s hard to see your kids grow up.
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This reminds me of the other day. I was watching the Michigan-MSU football game with my son. He has an autistic spectrum disorder and so we’re often lax on him during fits (sometimes he says some very bad words in the heat of an uncontrollable fit of anger). When he’s in control of himself though, we require him to watch his language especially in public.
My dad had only one rule about swearing. Don’t swear until you’re 18 in my house. I didn’t swear until I was 18 much and if I did, I had plenty of soap to remind me not to. My dad swore like a sailor though and made an art out of obscenities like nobody’s business. Well, I admit, I’m a bit of a sailor when it comes to sports.
Now that my son is older, I don’t watch my language quite so much. What I did do this particular Saturday was say after every swear word, “If I ever catch you repeating what I just said, you’ll be getting a bar of soap like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story.”” I don’t know why, but my partner, his mother, found this absolutely hilarious.
I guess your post reminded me of this because he is growing up. He does know these words and he is going to say them, soap or not. Still, as parents we are compelled to forever warn them against doing things that might be deemed…socially unacceptable or too adult for them. It can be embarrassing, especially with the topic of sex, to imagine your child has an interest in knowing and learning about these things, even if it is necessary they know.
Another funny story, that this post made me think of…I recently had to review the movie “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan”. My son is a huge Adam Sandler fan, so I let him watch it with me. I didn’t know how many sexual jokes were in the movie. He found them absolutely hilarious, but boy did I feel embarrassed during certain parts, watching it with him. Still, I’d rather I watch it with him, in case he had questions then let him catch it on a premium movie channel with no one around.
Man, it’s hard to see your kids grow up.
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It sure is hard to see your kids grow up, but I’m getting used to it. Still shielding my younger daughter from some concepts. “When you’re older,” I tell her.
I’ve been re-re-re-re… watching Gilmore Girls this week. There’s one episode where Lorelai gives a talk at the local high school about her career success, and before she gets 2 sentences out, the kids start asking her about what it was like to get pregnant at 16. Throws her for a loop, and afterward, all the school mothers gang up on her, because they didn’t want her to be talking about teenage pregnancy with their kids.
So, I’m watching this scene and thinking, Why not just answer their questions? Tell them about how you showed up on Mia’s doorstep with no home, no job, and an infant. Tell them about how you never got to go to college, never got to tour Europe, never even got to take it easy. And tell them how much you love your daughter. Let them draw their own conclusions. They can handle it.
-TimK
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It sure is hard to see your kids grow up, but I’m getting used to it. Still shielding my younger daughter from some concepts. “When you’re older,” I tell her.
I’ve been re-re-re-re… watching Gilmore Girls this week. There’s one episode where Lorelai gives a talk at the local high school about her career success, and before she gets 2 sentences out, the kids start asking her about what it was like to get pregnant at 16. Throws her for a loop, and afterward, all the school mothers gang up on her, because they didn’t want her to be talking about teenage pregnancy with their kids.
So, I’m watching this scene and thinking, Why not just answer their questions? Tell them about how you showed up on Mia’s doorstep with no home, no job, and an infant. Tell them about how you never got to go to college, never got to tour Europe, never even got to take it easy. And tell them how much you love your daughter. Let them draw their own conclusions. They can handle it.
-TimK
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