I can still recall my impressions from reading these books at five years old, and the difference between them and the world I eventually entered does make me sad.
I’ve been struck by how the world is depicted to my children in so many children’s books. “As you grow, you’ll be able to slot into a happy productive life, no matter what kind of work you like.”
No joke: every time I read my daughter a Richard Scarry book, I wonder when and how it will have to be broken to her that unless her interests happen to include something that pays a living wage, she’s actually fucked for life.
Think about what it would be like to grow up or to raise children in a world where the ramp to adulthood was incredibly wide and smooth and it was near-impossible to fall off a cliff into poverty, loneliness, or a life of work you hate.
Busytown isn’t a real place, but it was obviously designed to give children some sense of what the world is like or supposed to be like.
I’ve been struck by how the world is depicted to my children in so many children’s books. “As you grow, you’ll be able to slot into a happy productive life, no matter what kind of work you like.”
No joke: every time I read my daughter a Richard Scarry book, I wonder when and how it will have to be broken to her that unless her interests happen to include something that pays a living wage, she’s actually fucked for life.
Think about what it would be like to grow up or to raise children in a world where the ramp to adulthood was incredibly wide and smooth and it was near-impossible to fall off a cliff into poverty, loneliness, or a life of work you hate.
Busytown isn’t a real place, but it was obviously designed to give children some sense of what the world is like or supposed to be like.