2: The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting #Newbery100

2022 will mark the 100th anniversary of the Newbery Medal. In honor of this momentous event, I launched a project to read through each award-winner, starting with some background on the award and with commentary on the first medal winner: The Story of Mankind by Hendrik Willem van Loon. Today I take up the 1923 recipient: The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting

Winner: The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting (Stokes)

Honor Books:

None Recorded

Members of the 1923 Newbery Medal Selection Committee: Elva S. Smith, Della McGregor, Avis Meigs, Grace L. Aldrich.

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In 1957, the founding editors of The Horn Book (Bertha Mahony Miller and Elinor Whitney Field) published a collection of materials related to the Newbery Medal from 1922-1955. Of Hugh Lofting receiving the award in 1923, the editors explain that the awards committee "wished to recognize the originality and skill which had gone into the making of The Story of Doctor Dolittle."

The problem? The Story of Doctor Dolittle was published in 1920. And the award was granted to its sequel, The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle.

Today's Newbery selection committees would be aghast as the current Terms and Criteria specifically instruct members to consider only an author's eligible title in that year and to ignore any previously published work. Of course, it has likely happened over the years, but no committee would announce its intentions in this way. The 1923 committee also named no Honor titles, which could mean they were grappling with the same questions Miller outlined in her introduction to the Horn Book collection:

Should the award be given to an inferior book just because the author had written one previously which might indeed have merited it? If there is no outstanding book to deserve the special honor in a particular year, would it not be better to omit bestowing the award or give it to a book of a previous year which had grown in critical esteem?

As committees are sworn to secrecy (and Elva, Della, Avis, and Grace have long since taken their secrets to the grave), we will likely never know. What stands, however, is the Newbery Medal on the cover of Lofting's The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle and the legacy of this beloved character. In explaining how instantly and universally Dr. Dolittle charmed his readers, Helen Dean Fish writes that he is "a good man for children to know because he stands for kindliness, patience and reliability, mixed with delightful humor, energy and gaiety, a combination rarely met and hard to beat." And later,

Doctor Dolittle is an anchor to windward in a world increasingly difficult for children. He invites his reader into an imaginative world that is secure and delightful. ... [He] gives a sense of dependability in a noisy and uncertain world.

Lofting originated the character of Dr. Dolittle during the war, wanting to write letters to his children from the front, something appropriate and something that would get past the censors. After observing the lack of treatment for injured service animals, Lofting began to imagine a skilled medical professional who chooses to focus on animals instead of people, and the result was the instant classic The Story of Doctor Dolittle. Many other titles followed, including of course, the sequel where young Tommy Stubbins meets Dr. Dolittle, apprentices himself to the great naturalist, and together they travel to Spidermonkey Island in search of Long Arrow, son of Golden Arrow.

The book is remarkable, even today. Its pacing is perfect, the dialogue is lively, and Lofting marries the action with the descriptive in a truly skillful way, making the reader feel surrounded by the weeping willows and the fishpond in the Dr's garden while also turning the pages to find out what happens next. The book is also horribly racist. In fact, my edition, published in 2012, offers this explanation on its copyright page:

In the pages that follow, The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle appears in its entirety. Spelling and punctuation have been changed to conform to present-day conventions. Occasional passages that may be construed as racist or offensive have been modified. Such changes have been kept to a minimum.

Because the edition I read was still thoroughly offensive, I pulled up the original to find these minimal changes and though I will not catalog each modification here, I thought a few worth a closer look.

First, there is the return of Chee-Chee, the monkey. Chee-Chee journeys from Africa and arrives in Dr. Dolittle's garden wearing a long dress and a straw hat. He explains that he was homesick, so when he saw people ("black and white") boarding a ship to England and noticed a girl that reminded him of his cousin, he snuck through an open window and took the clothes of "a fashionable black lady" and was able to board the ship unnoticed. At every turn, this story (which was probably viewed as humorous at the time) is deeply racist and offensive, yet the 2012 edition chose to keep it in. Similarly, the trial of Luke the Hermit, featuring the testimony of Luke's dog Bob, reveals Luke to be innocent after Bob exposes the villainy of Luke's Mexican partner, Manuel Mendoza. Mendoza, described as "a small dark man with wicked little watery eyes," is the actual murderer, and when Bob explains what happened, Luke goes free. These elements were included because to remove them would mean removing key parts of the story. It would have required an abridgement rather than a note about minimal changes.

Also still present is Bumpo Kahbooboo, crown prince of Jollinginki. Readers were introduced to him in the first Doctor Dolittle tale, and here he is again, barefoot but wearing a "fashionable frock coat with an enormous bright red cravat," marrying his Oxford education with his African sensibilities. When they find yet another stowaway on their ship, this time the hearty Ben Brewer who has significantly depleted their food stores, Bumpo first suggests they "strike him on the head with some heavy object and push him through a porthole into the sea" to which Polynesia replies, "No. We're not in Jollinginki now, you know." This offensive exchange is included in my edition; omitted is the following exchange at the close of the chapter:

“Would it not be good political economy,” Bumpo whispered back, “if we salted the able seaman and ate him instead? I should judge that he would weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds.”

“How often must I tell you that we are not in Jolliginki,” snapped Polynesia. “Those things are not done on white men’s ships—"

Undoubtedly, Lofting intended these elements to be funny, and likely his readers found them so. But they are merely a few of the aspects of this story that make it untenable for today's readers. Lofting has made it clear: the white doctor is the intellect and the hero, the savior of Long Arrow, crowned king of the Popsipetel people and father figure to young Tommy. The people of color around him are comical or ignorant, evil or deceptive, beast-like or mere innocents in need of "real" leadership. No amount of clever dialogue or vivid description can overcome such hurtful language. And no amount of editing can fix the heart of the harm.

How, then, do we handle such titles? It has merit, and the many movie versions of the story prove its continued interest to children. But, can we, in good conscience, continue to celebrate a title so rife with colonialist ideals and racist depictions? Does the Gold Medal on its cover provide cover for its sins? Are those of us who revere the Newbery complicit in this narrative? What responsibility do we have for contemporary "reviews" such as these?

99: New Kid by Jerry Craft #Newbery100

2022 will mark the 100th anniversary of the Newbery Medal. In honor of this momentous event, I launched a project to read through each award-winner, starting with some background on the award and with commentary on the first medal winner: The Story of Mankind by Hendrik Willem van Loon. Today I take up the 2020 recipient: New Kid by Jerry Craft.

Winner: New Kid by Jerry Craft (Harper)

Honor Books:

The Undefeated by Kwame Alexander, ill. by Kadir Nelson (Versify/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)

Scary Stories for Young Foxes by Christian McKay Heidicker, ill. by Junyi Wu (Holt/Macmillan)

Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga (Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins)

Genesis Begins Again by Alicia D. Williams (Atheneum/Simon & Schuster/a Caitlyn Dlouhy Book)

Members of the 2020 Newbery Medal Selection Committee: Chair Krishna Grady; K.C. Boyd; Julia Casas-Rose; Dr. Alpha DeLap; Jenna Friebel; Christopher Lassen; Dennis LeLoup; Eileen Makoff; Dr. Petros Panaou; Deanna Romriell; Karen Scott; Soraya Silverman-Montano; Mary R. Voors; Beatriz Pascual Wallace; and Sandy Wee.

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At the end of January 2020, very few people in the country could have predicted the near future of lockdowns and loss. Few could foresee the months of fear and frustration on the horizon, but many (including me!) accurately predicted the winner of the 2020 Newbery Medal. SLJ's Heavy Medal Mock Newbery Committee picked it. So did mock Newbery participants at libraries across the country. In my original post on New Kid, I explained the complications around why graphic novels faced an uphill battle for the Medal. It centers around language in the original criteria, language that reflected publishing in a time when the text was what mattered and the illustrations were merely decorative. But now, the form has evolved, and thankfully, the selection committee has begun to realize that honoring a book means honoring the whole book, for even a "traditional" book is the product of artful collaboration across multiple creators, editors, and designers. Now, graduate schools in library and information sciences include whole courses on the graphic format, often using Jerry Craft's New Kid as a foundational text.

When Frederic Melcher originally proposed the Newbery Medal, he envisioned a complex web of symbiotic relationships between publishers, booksellers, librarians, and writers -- all working together to increase the excellence on offer to young readers. He suggested the medal as a way to encourage the best writers of a generation to write for children, to strengthen the market for children's books, thus making it a profitable venture for those most talented of creators. And it worked. Fewer than 10 years after the medal was established, the number of titles published for children had increased more than 25%. In a letter Melcher wrote to librarian Clara Whitehill Hunt, he explained that what he hoped the medal would reward was

genius giving of its best to the child.

And that's exactly what Jerry Craft offers with New Kid. His book shows him to be one of those remarkable creators with access to the discipline and daring that comes across as genius. As I wrote in my original post:

The New Kid here is seventh-grader Jordan Banks, starting at a swanky new private school instead of the art school he'd been hoping for. His parents want him to give it a try, even though they are not blind to the challenges he will likely face. And face them he does. But not at all in the tired ways you might be imagining. Yes, there are issues of race and class, and Craft has mastered the art of handling a difficult subject with just the right weight. Not too light, but not so heavy as to feel unreal. Most kids experience difficult things, and most kids also laugh and draw and play video games with friends and crack terrible jokes. Both are true.

Like a chemist, Craft has mixed the humor with the hard parts, combining moments of social commentary with online gaming sessions between friends. With a deft hand and an eye toward the reader's experience, Craft gives kids a book that meets them right where they are.

That's the thing about what's here: there are plenty of clever elements that will go right over a young reader's head. But the writing is complete and the story so captivating that even if you don't pick up on every joke or understand every reference, you'll cheer for Jordan Banks as he makes his way through seventh grade. Reading New Kid again recently, I was struck by how much craft (pun intended!) went into this book. From the first two-page spread to the final panel, New Kid wears the mark of careful attention and rewards those readers who offer it the same.

In that opening spread, Jordan is pictured against the backdrop of a starry sky, as though he is falling into the cold, dark abyss of the uncharted universe. The accompanying text boxes introduce us to his voice:

This is how I feel every single day of my life, like I'm falling without a parachute. I mean, I'm not really falling. That's called a metaphor. I learned about them in English. When I was younger I used to wish I was Superman. So instead of falling, I could fly. But now that I'm twelve, I realize just how silly that was.

Throughout the book, Jordan brings up that lesson on metaphor every so often, something that likely irks teachers and writers everywhere. I know I cringed a little every time it happened. But then, in the final panel, Craft shows his readers he was always in control, happy to let that joke run long, waiting until the last panel to hit with the punchline.

At the top of the page, Jordan says his old friends are like training wheels, and once again explains

That's a metaphor. I learned about them in English.

His friends' response?

Actually, Jordan, that's a simile. Yeah, c'mon, "Private School." Everybody knows that!

All at once, those of us who thought we were wiser than Jerry and his editors, those of us who cringed at the incorrect information being thrown at these young readers, we are there in Jordan's shoes, thinking we know more than others, requiring a gentle dose of humility. In interviews, Craft has discussed the way he kept tinkering with this book, revising and adding new layers of humor or insight at every iteration. Like the long joke, there are countless elements that demonstrate the creative control he exercised, proving him to be an ideal recipient for the first Newbery Medal granted to a graphic novel.

As I read across this century of books, I can't help but wonder what scholars and critics will think of New Kid in the future. What will they make of the collective resistance to this form? Will they agree or find it foolish to reward the graphic novel format? Will the timely references and of-the-moment jokes feel dated or will they provide an archival window into young adult life at this intersection of history?