Notes on Dr. Maria Tatar's Lecture: “A 'Damn Mob' of Scribbling Girls”

    As someone encountering Dr. Maria Tatar’s work for the first time during this event, I was not disappointed! Dr. Tatar is a research professor at Harvard University and specializes in children’s literature, modern German culture, and folklore. Her research includes authors like the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen, childhood reading and cultural studies, and folklore and mythology. Her most recent work, The Heroine with 1001 Faces, takes on the staggering yet hidden history of heroines, challenging the male-centric models of heroism in Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces. In this latest publication, Dr. Tatar flips the script on what it means to be a “curious” young woman, emphasizing how these girls depart from the canon through their compassion and craft. Her interests culminated in the event titled “A ‘Damn Mob’ of Scribbling Girls: From Jo March to Starr Carter,” which explored girls from popular media and literature who find agency within domestic spaces and enact their power, not only to survive, but to care for others. 

Dr. Tatar began her lecture with images of warrior women – cinematic women who are dramatically armed and ready for battle. She highlights their strength that both ornaments and sustains their femininity. Whether glittering in golden armor or fitted in a flowing red dress while riding in a chariot, these young women embody a feminine power that defies the traditional domestic spaces they find themselves in. In this opening, Dr. Tatar introduces her argument: these girls, trained to accommodate themselves in a society of gendered propriety, rebel against dominant power structures through their craft. 

The first literary work Dr. Tatar introduces is Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel Little Women. However, she invokes the character Jo March through the film directed by Greta Gerwig (2019) instead of the novel. While Alcott captures all the dimensions of the domestic, the acts meant to make a home comfortable, Gerwig’s Jo March exuberantly displays how reading, writing, and acting are radical acts of rebellion. This emphasis on a young woman’s reach for autonomy allowed Dr. Tatar to identify the potential for heroism within domesticity. She identifies writing as a craft that provides an opportunity for heroism, an action that involves both curiosity and care. Tatar defines craft as cunning design, work that has been carried out in multiple modalities such as knitting, weaving, storytelling, or simply talking. 

In both the novel and the film, the heroes of the story are the fathers heading off to war while the women maintain the home space. Dr. Tatar urges us to ask: Who are our heroes? Our heroines? She grafts onto her argument the concept of the hero from Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces to assert that women are not the ones receiving the call to action. If anything, this persistence of men at the forefront of heroism has become the Hollywood narrative playbook. It becomes an easy correlation to see men returning from war as a literalized hero’s journey. However, Dr. Tatar reminds us that the return in the hero’s journey is always about healing. Here, in curious and caring spaces, is where women can no longer be silenced. 

The lecture took a poignant turn when Dr. Tatar connected her ideas with the COVID-19 lockdowns we have collectively experienced in the past two years. In lockdown, she notes, we were looking for heroes. We found them in our community caretakers, like doctors and nurses, childcare workers, and educators. More than anything, though, we encountered silence. Like the image of Philomena weaving her tapestry, the concept of heroism faces a cultural reboot during the COVID-19 pandemic. The investment in healing and care work, fields predominantly held by women, found a refreshed prioritization and attention from the public. Dr. Tatar turns to Carlos Fuentes and restates, “Writing is a struggle against silence.” Here, she draws a comparison to the strategy of silenced women. As mentioned before, craft becomes the strategy to find a voice. Through texts and textiles, women speak truth to power. 

One of the tenets of her work, curiosity, is seen as the cardinal sin of women while care is delegitimized on the basis of gender oppressive attitudes. Dr. Tatar moves from writing as a form of discovering identity and self actualization to a desire for immortality. This curiosity thus becomes a commitment to causes these young women are passionate about, concretizing their thoughts and ideas in written word. The literary text Dr. Tatar closes her lecture with is Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give. Through the protagonist, Starr Carter, Dr. Tatar realizes that self-actualization and a commitment to social causes are not mutually exclusive. From Anne of Green Gables to Matilda, Anne Frank to Harriet the Spy, the craft of writing becomes a mode of achieving an encounter with an empowered self, a political act that speaks truth to power. 

    I was very intrigued by Dr. Tatar’s inspirations for this work. One of the most compelling was Scheherazade, a major female character from One Thousand and One Nights who is also a scholar and reader. She is a storyteller, and known as a master of cliffhangers, who understands the seductive power of stories. Dr. Tatar also emphasizes that she is a survivor, ensuring that others will be saved and protected from the antagonist of her story. She also invokes the classic tales of Pandora and Eve, two young women whose bodies are sexualized and whose curiosity is read as carnal rather than intellectual. Through these figures, she calls on us to consider replacing empathy with curiosity, craft, and care. Rather than universalizing our characters or their experiences, Dr. Tatar invites us to raise critical awareness about the codes of gender that inform power in these texts and, ultimately, the way we perceive “domestic” activities as passive. As she states in the lecture, “readers often seek their mirrors in books.” Through the close reading Tatar promotes, we achieve tools for learning how to navigate our real world relationships via the representations we find in these stories and move with the mob of scribbling women. 

    Readers and writers in the audience also asked some very intriguing questions about Dr. Tatar’s work. Some listeners asked about the labor of our bodies, the work of our hands, and how to reconcile this with the public arena. Dr. Tatar invited us to compare Jo March with Starr Carter, and the modes they used to share their voices. While Jo March hand-wrote her thoughts, Starr Carter takes on a megaphone and a computer keyboard as powerful instruments for securing justice. Other listeners discussed what it means to “give up” one’s femininity in exchange for strength, or if femininity can be perceived as strength itself. Dr. Tatar invokes examples from modern film and media, like Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games (dir. Gary Ross) or Snow White from Snow White and the Huntsmen (dir. Rupert Sanders) – both of these young women display strength while also being connected to poetry, song, and art. A few others brought up the question of rethinking passivity from past to present. We’re invited to look more deeply into domestic actions while understanding the circumstances of women like Jo March as narrow. Dr. Tatar inspired me to use that historical past to reimagine curiosity, craft, and care in today’s world. This reimagining allows us to reconstruct our imaging of girlhood while understanding our own writing as heroic.

DN

Real Identities and Diversity in Children’s Picture Books

On September 19, 2018, Camila Rae Castillo-Smith was born, and all of the sudden, I’m searching for picture books that tell her the story of both her Black and Mexican heritage. All of the sudden, I’m grappling with how to discuss blended heritage and culture with my first grandchild. I thought because my husband is mixed race and because my beautiful daughter is mixed race that I knew exactly how to handle this situation. But when Rocío, Camila’s mother, said that she was struggling to find books with characters that Camila could identify with, I realized this may be more difficult than I thought. The issue is complicated not only by a number of historically political notions about race, but also by the many ways that we identify ourselves, which means I have to ask some not so obvious questions.

Am I Black or African American? Is Mexican the same as Latinx? How Camila constructs her identity will have a lot to do with how we, her mother, father, and their families, define ourselves. In Roberto Carlos Garcia’s article on The Root, “So You’re Afro-Latinx. Now What?,” He notes, “America thrusts black or white upon you quickly, and you have to decide, you have to know who and what you are” (Garcia). This knowing, though, takes time as Camila comes to this realization with a barrage of influences. As she comes of age, she will work through how her family identifies themselves and hopefully discover for herself where she fits. The books that we read to her in the early stages of this development will strengthen her foundation. So, my search for picture books about children who are both Mexican and Black continues.

While there are a number of books about mixed race characters, so many of them seem to focus on children whose race is mixed with white. There are very few stories about children who celebrate their mixed minority races, and I have yet to find one about a child like Camila. My search, though not entirely in vain, reveals a collection of stories that some may say is too specific. But haven’t the books before the push for diversity also been too specific? Just as Camila will likely read books about children who are not like her, the children who are not like her should also read books about children like Camila. This helps to encourage empathy and compassion for people who are not like us.

It is the desire to see one’s self represented that leads to diverse books. “‘Diversity’ should just be called ‘reality.’ Your books, your articles, your curricula need to reflect reality” (Due). So maybe we, Camila’s family, should write the story that we’d like to tell her, children like her, and the children who want to get to know her. Children are very different, and we should be okay with acknowledging that.

I’m extremely proud that Rocío immediately saw the importance of Camila knowing who she is early on. And while I took this for granted when I was her age, I’m open to learning as my family grows.

Click here for a list of children’s picture books that celebrate diverse, real identities.

(KT)

The New Springtime With Visiting Scholar Michelle H. Martin And Say Goodbye To That Famous White Tailed Bunny

What better way to complete last year’s amazing children’s literature scholar, Dr. Michael Heyman's theme, with this Spring’s visiting Scholar Dr. Michelle H. Martin. It appears that rabbit hole is working its magic once again, and the library is the place to be between the end of winter and the first week of Spring—saying out with the old and in with the new. 

(Scroll down to find the details to this not so curious event!)

Last week, the SDSU Love Library held a special event in honor of a missing and recently found Alice mural. The unveiling of the mural took place on Tuesday in the plaza of the Love Library. There were the most festive treats before the audience was moved by the speeches of Dr. Gale Etschmaier, Ed.D. (Dean of the SDSU Library)—who gave the audience context of how the mural project came about and what connection the library had to it; Dr. Carole Scott, Ph.D (faculty emeritus and former Dean of Undergraduate Studies), who read from Lewis Carroll’s text in an energetic and beautiful tone; and Seth Mallios, Ph.D (Anthropology), who gave a moving speech about the project’s significance within SDSU’s own history. After the decorative treats were consumed, the NCSCL followed the library faculty, SDSU faculty, our generous donors, and other SDSU students to Hardy Tower where we found the hidden rabbit hole, and, my was it a sight to see.

And of course, if you were with us last year, you know the visiting scholar covered the topic of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the brilliance that resides inside nonsense literature. This seamless transition to this year’s visiting scholar is one we could not have planned better ourselves. After a year filled with that little white rabbit that has stolen our hearts away, we are ready to move forward into a new topic that is quite present in our society today.

Dr. Martin’s research interest cover topics in children's and young adult literature, as well as African American children's picture books, art in picture books, and sexual development in children's literature. Her numerous publications include: “Let Freedom Ring: Land, liberty, literacy and lore in Mildred Taylor” appearing in Oxford Handbook of Children's Literature, “African American” appearing in Keywords for Children's Literature, “'He's so sweet': Bon-bon buddy, literary child of Arna Bontemps and Langston Hughes” appearing in Children's Literature Association Quarterly 35.3, “Pioneers of the Genre: Arna Bontemps, Langston Hughes, and the 'roots' of African American children's literature” appearing in Embracing, Evaluating and Examining African American Children's and Young Adult Literature, and her book out of Routledge Press titled Brown gold: Milestones of African-American children's picture books.

Dr. Martin will be giving an amazing and unforgettable lecture that is a must-see to bring in this new Spring season. With the way politics are taking place currently in our society and the amount of hope that we must continue to hold for our children and generations to come, we encourage all to come witness this inspiring scholar.

TALK INFORMATION:

LYNCHING 101: YOUNG ADULT PRIMERS ON THE MURDER OF EMMETT TILL

THE NCSCL 2016 VISITING SCHOLAR'S LECTURE

EVENT DETAILS:

WHO: MICHELLE H. MARTIN

UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH CAROLINA

DATE: WEDNESDAY, MARCH 23RD

TIME: 5:00-6:30 PM

PLACE: LOVE LIBRARY-LEON WILLIAMS ROOM (430 & 431)

Images from last week's Alice mural unveiling:

Lynching 101: the NCSCL 2016 Visiting Scholar's Lecture

Lynching 101: Young Adult Primers on the Murder of Emmett Till

The NCSCL 2016 Visiting Scholar's Lecture

Event Details: 

WHO: Michelle H. Martin 

University of South Carolina

Date: Wednesday, March 23rd
Time: 5:00-6:30 pm
Place: Love Library-Leon Williams Room(430 & 431)

In her article, “Narrative Tensions: Telling Slavery, Showing Violence,” in Ann Lawson Lucas’s edited volume The Presence of the Past in Children’s Literature (2003), Paula Connolly articulates a common tension in children’s books—particularly picture books—that depict violence.  She says:

Clearly the problem in publishing picture books about such issues derives from the specific age range of the books’ intended audience: to erase the violence of such events would be to mitigate the atrocity itself, yet including violence could easily alienate or terrify very young children.  For example, in retelling U.S. slavery, how does one portray—in pictures and for such a young audience—scenes of whippings, murders, rapes, and the forcible separation of families?  In short, how does one tell the truth? (107)

Telling the truth—gruesome and unspeakable as it is—is precisely what Simeon Wright does in Simeon’s Story: An Eyewitness Account of the Kidnapping of Emmett Till (2011), what David Robson does in The Murder of Emmett Till (2010), what Marilyn Nelson does in A Wreath for Emmett Till (2005), what Chris Crowe does in Getting Away with Murder (2003) and what Stephen J. Whitfield does in A Death in the Delta: the Story of Emmett Till (1991).  Unlike the picture books of which Connolly writes, these texts are primarily for young adults.  But like the picture books, these texts do have illustrations and deal with emotional issues that are unusually difficult for their intended audience.

These texts differ widely in terms of their format, their use of visual images, the reading level of the text as well as their approach to telling the ugly details of the lynching of fourteen-year-old Emmett Till in Money, Mississippi in 1955. Yet they all offer some compelling answers to the questions that Connolly raises about the depiction of violence in literature for young people.  This presentation will explore a number of versions of the Emmett Till story in an effort to uncover strategies the authors use to maintain historical veracity while addressing young people about a topic that horrifies even most adults.  Despite their generic variety, all of these texts employ visual and/or textual confrontation, stark juxtapositions, and social and historical contextualization that help readers make sense of the era in which Emmett Till lived and died. 

Michelle Martin

Bio

Michelle Martin has been the inaugural Augusta Baker Endowed Chair in Childhood Literacy at the University of South Carolina in the School of Library and Information Science since August 2011, where she teaches courses in children's and young adult literature to undergraduate students in the education department and graduate students in the School of Library and Information Science. Prior to this position at USC, she taught for 12 years in the English Department at Clemson University. She holds a B.A. from The College of William and Mary (1988), an M.S. in Outdoor Teacher Education from Northern Illinois University (1991) (which she considers her Girl Scout degree), and a Ph.D. in English, specializing in Children's and Young Adult Literature and Composition, from Illinois State University (1997).

Martin published Brown Gold: Milestones of African-American Children's Picture Books, 1845-2002 with Routledge in 2004 and co-edited (with Claudia Nelson) Sexual Pedagogies: Sex Education in Britain, Australia, and America, 1879-2000 (Palgrave, 2003). Michelle has published articles in The Lion and the Unicorn, Children's Literature Association Quarterly, Sankofa: a Journal of African Children's and Young Adult Literature, and Obsidian III, among others.  She is currently working on a book-length critical examination of the collaborative and individual works that Arna Bontemps and Langston Hughes wrote for young people during their friendship and collaborative working relationship that lasted from the 1920s until the 1960s. Its working title is Dream Keepers for Children of the Sun: the Children¹s Literature of Arna Bontemps and Langston Hughes.

How the NCSCL Remembers Harper Lee

It is always a sad day when a significant children’s literature author passes, and this week was a sad one when we said good-bye to Nelle Harper Lee. Going under the penname of Harper Lee, she will always be remembered as an American author who wrote one of the most recognized titles in the United States and showed the world what living in the South was like.

Of course made famous by her Pulitzer–Prize-winning book To Kill A Mockingbird, Lee is  an influential author who taught us about racial inequality and injustice during our grade-school years—the book is still widely part of the American elementary education curriculum. Since its publication, the book has been translated in 40 languages and continues to sell in record numbers.

But what about this novel read by a young audience makes it so profound? One scholar Gregory Jay states: “The consensus interpretation of the novel, generally confirmed by how it has been taught in schools, focuses on the moral lesson of empathy as the cardinal virtue and urgent program of racial liberalism”—but that is not all. Jay states that not only is this novel a prevalent didactic tool of antiracist morality, but “Recently, this consensus has been interrupted by critical analyses of ‘sexual otherness’ in the novel and its many sly ways of subverting gender normativity.” He comments that perhaps there is more behind the stereotyped portal of blacks, and objectification of their subjectivity demonstrates another command of the white, heteronormative, dominant culture that comes from looking at the “destabilization of heterosexuality,” a close reading that looks beyond the more common anti-racist campaign.

Also, as seen in Graeme Dunphy’s article “Meena's Mockingbird: From Harper Lee to Meera Syal,” post-colonial reading of Lee’s works have allowed new books that deal with childhood experiences surrounding racism, such as Anita and Me, the opportunity to show a way of overcoming obstacles of oppression through its narrative. Dunphy connects the titles stating, “The world is seen through the eyes of a young girl as she is growing up, and the strength of both authors is the skill with which they parody their respective juvenile vernaculars” (643). Dunphy turns our attention, as readers, to the innocence and naivety presented within a youthful and inexperienced narrator’s perspective. This allows each book to present the reader with harsh sociological challenges that, through the eyes of a child, suggest the irony of how books can teach diversity and respect for all through such a perspective—a demonstration of childhood innocence as a segue into the harsh realities of society.

And while there are many interesting ways to look and talk about Lee’s historic and influential work, the fact remains that there is a sense of timelessness that one finds with To Kill A Mockingbird and the lessons on empathy that it attempts to promote. So maybe not all didactic texts are taking away from the childhood experience, because what Harper Lee’s work does is expose childhood innocence as a way of productively working through social issues and pushing for positive and open-minded outlooks into future generations.

Notes:

Dunphy, Graeme. "Meena's Mockingbird: From Harper Lee to Meera Syal." Neophilologus, 88.4 (2004): 637-659.

Gregory, Jay. “Queer Children and Representative Men: Harper Lee, Racial Liberalism, and the Dilemma of To Kill a Mockingbird”. American Literary History. 2015. 27: 487-522.

Teens, Mazes, and Power- A Tribute to David Bowie

“Every thing I’ve done, I’ve done for you. I move the stars for no one.”

– Jareth The Goblin King

As the Spring 2016 semester approached, drawing winter break to its end, the world was hit with sad news about the death of David Bowie. So as many of us who grew up watching Jim Hansen’s Labyrinth probably did, the NCSCL sat down to watch this children’s classic honoring fond memories of Bowie in tight pants surround by some cool puppets. But while many might find moments of blissful nostalgia rewatching this movie, one children’s lit scholar started thinking about subtle idiosyncrasies that resonate within popular YA literature movies released this winter season also contain.

To begin, the Labyrinth was originally written by director Jim Henson with assistance from a Canadian children’s poet and writer, Dennis Lee. Jim Henson is know commonly to have worked with George Lucas, and of course, the newest Star Wars movie finally came to the big screen after ten whole years. Coincidentally, Labyrinth became a novel by A. C. H.Smith that came from the movie adaptation in 1987, but Lucas’s A New Hope had already fed curious fans with its earlier novelization in 1976.  Therefore, movies about epic and fantastical adventure must go hand in hand.

Sarah: Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby. And the baby was a spoiled child, and wanted everything to himself, and the young girl was practically a slave. But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the the girl, and he had given her certain powers. So one night, when the baby had been particularly cruel to her, she called on the goblins for help!

Goblin: [inside the closet] Listen!

Sarah: "Say your right words," the goblins said, "and we'll take the baby to the castle, and you will be free!" But the girl knew, that the Goblin King would keep the baby in his castle forever and ever and ever, and turn it into a goblin! And so the girl suffered in silence. Until one day, when she was tired from a day of housework, and she was hurt by the harsh words of her stepmother, and she could no longer stand it...

Now, of course, David Bowie never played in Star Wars, but there is surely a connection between these movies that go further than the directors who had worked closely with one another for many years. Labyrinth begins with the tale of a bored teen-age girl, who the audience is introduced to as a complainer and whiner about her current living situation. She thinks to stories she has read about the mystical goblin king and wishes to be saved—then poof, her brother is stolen and the adventure begins. This sounds similar to Luke Skywalker, who is originally introduced as bored young man on a desert farm looking for adventure, but like Sarah when she gets her wish, Luke discredits his call to adventure when it comes his way. The moral of these stories work together, proving that bored teens want adventure, but the adventure is a fantasy and when hard work comes as a price that must be paid to participate in the adventure, it always begins with more complaining until responsibility is accepted.

Sarah: That's not fair!

Jareth: You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is?

Next it would seem that the labyrinth structure is one that is also familiar within current YA literature. More obviously, The Maze Runner Series introduces a main teen protagonist who maybe was bored, but we will never know because he is thrust into an adventure from the start—a place where a bunch of (bored) unsupervised teens are stuck living on their own, waiting for new members to join monthly sent by an unknown entity, until the main character Thomas no longer wants to be contained and micromanaged and so escapes through a deadly maze. Like this maze, The Hunger Games series also introduces a maze element to the mix with the arena structure that the Hunger Games takes place in. This area is set up with a number of booby-traps that work against the individuals stuck inside—like Bowie’s labyrinth, it works to keep anyone from making it back to the center where something needed awaits. For Katniss, it was medical supplies and more weapons, and for Sarah, it was her baby brother—both things to help them return home. And while both The Hunger Games series and The Maze Runner series perpetuate a contemporary dystopian storyline, it displays teens working through a maze, focused on their own survival, and ultimately finding that physically escaping the labyrinth might be real but it’s true escape is a fantasy. The maze-esque qualities found in the Goblin King’s fortress demonstrate that there is no escaping the maze and that there will always be parts of the labyrinth that follow those who tread through its walls.

Hoggle: This is an oubliette, labyrinth's full of 'em.

Sarah: Really. I didn't know that.

Hoggle: Oh don't act so smart. You don't even know what an oubliette is.

Sarah: Do you?

Hoggle: Yes. It's a place you put people... to forget about 'em!

So then we get to power as the essence of what these young adults are constantly fighting against—this ultimate structure forces a combat between the character and unperceivable situations that always provide valuable lessons—a force of sorts that holds a moralistic uplifting value at the end. Within the attempts to resist these power structures or dark forces that contain the young adult, a fantasy prevails within each of their minds that adventure begets a state of freedom, and yet both freedom and adventure at the end usually come with a very negative twist. Once Jared the Goblin King is defeated by Sarah, he returns in an owl state to perch outside her window, watching her as the movie ends. Katniss is still in a world governed by people and power structures, haunted by the memories of the death of so many she loved, just like Luke is haunted by the responsibility of restoring balance and his inability to save his father. Call it interpellation, panopticon structures, or the spectacle’s evolution, but these stories demonstrate a presence of freedom within the young adult’s imagination that begins with battling overpowering and dominating social forces in a labyrinth but one that is only hosted by the mind because it is a fantasy—one that we can only continue to learn from.

Sarah: Ow! It bit me!

Hoggle: What'd you expect fairies to do?

Sarah: I thought they did nice things, like... like granting wishes.

Hoggle: Shows what *you* know, don't it?

Bowie’s character Jareth the Goblin King is a reminder of our desires to free ourselves from displeasure and how, because things aren’t as they seem, the maze will always lead us right back to the beginning.

The Wiseman: Quite often, young lady, it seems like we're not getting anywhere, when in fact...
The Hat: We are!
The Wiseman: ...we are.

Ninjago: Commodity and the Fixation of “Goodness”

Unlike classical folktale structures and themes — behave or die, prince charming will rescue you, or stay away from adventures or die — the modern kid lit texts seems to have developed into its own beast.

It seems safe to assume that everyone has been exposed to the Star Wars stories, and the generation of children that followed the original three films, the 90’s kids, were exposed to TV shows like Power Rangers, Dragon Ball Z, and Batman: The Animated Series, all of which have a few things in common with Star Wars. Within these texts, there is a resounding presence of light vs. dark, good vs. evil, confronting inner demons, and being reintroduced into a sacred space with “kick-ass” powers, and of course, how can we forget, the special “chosen one.” So when exposed to the new hit TV show Ninjago: Masters of Spinjitzu recently, we must stop to think, what is it about these Star Wars themes that are taking over children’s texts lately?

 

Ninjago: Masters of Spinjitzu is an animated series that airs on Cartoon Network and is currently in its sixth season. This extremely popular TV program, created by the Lego Corporation, is about five, pubescent male characters who discover that they are the ones who must fight for good in their world and maintain the sanctified balance for everyone else. Of course, there is one who is the “true chosen one,” Lloyd, whose father Lord Garmadon (wait can you guess?) turned evil and is bringing evil into the world. Lloyd, along with his friends Jay, Cole, Zane, and Kai, train under Sensei Wu, Lord Garmadon’s brother, and learn about patience and how to fight the evil forces. Ok… so not only does this story follow a semi-Star-Wars-esque theme, but it also hones in to the 90’s popular TV shows, like Power Rangers, where each character contains their own unique power but when combined with their friends, will always create the most awesomely powerful weapon.

 

While this may sound like a show that is positively influencing the younger generation to continue the wise lessons Master Yoda embodies, the use of Legos for the animation holds an opposing connotation. Here, Sarah Banet-Weiser’s definition of “brand-culture” in American society can be explored through how it continuously maintains the illusion of childhood imagination and personification of “goodness,” but also how it simultaneously supports a capitalistic society. As in the 2014 Lego Movie’s implied didactic message arguably attempting to inspire children to express themselves in imaginative ways, it also promotes the belief of individuality through the concept of “special-ness,” like being chosen for “Ninjahood.” While The Lego Movie is very explicit in its anti-corporation message, the characters that prevail in both the movie and these TV shows are the ones that think outside the box and learn to work with others. Once labeled as one who will “bring balance to the universe,” it appears that “goodness” is used as a selling strategy. The movie itself tricks the audience into acquiring a false sense of empowerment through the exaggeration of paying for a $12 coffee or still loving the song that repeats on the radio every hour; yet, this paradox only hides the truth that branching away from this corporate control only introduces new methods of control. “Goodness” or being trained on the “good side” can be seen as a super power, which exposes the continuation of brand-culture because it is the corporation that ultimately contains this power. Through self-discovery, these characters encompass more that just perfect citizenship (“valuable ideology”), perhaps mirroring a story that may have intended to truly inspire “goodness” but instead perpetuates new children’s text with the theme that good will always prevail over evil.  

So in a world where the Disney Corporation owns the rights to Star Wars and Lego™ suggests childhood dreams should be built in blocks, the commodification of “goodness” is resoundingly present in the texts created for the current generation’s children.

Notes:

• Banet-Weiser, Sarah. Authentic TM: The Politics and Ambivalence in a Brand Culture. New York, N.Y.: New York University Press, 2012.
• Ninjago Information from Lego Wiki: http://lego.wikia.com/wiki/Ninjago