Preface to “Stories of Geniuses” (Tentative Draft)

The idea for this book first came to me when I was trans­lat­ing Dear Genius: The Let­ters of Ursu­la Nord­strom. It took two and a half years, and with the com­bined efforts of every­one involved, to final­ly com­plete it. This book fol­lows the char­ac­ters intro­duced in Dear Genius, telling their life sto­ries one by one, in chrono­log­i­cal order. Thread­ing these sto­ries togeth­er, a breath­tak­ing pic­ture emerges: a vast cross-sec­tion of the Amer­i­can chil­dren’s book land­scape for rough­ly half a cen­tu­ry after the 1930s! While not com­plete, it pro­vides a glimpse into the broad­er pic­ture.
  
A long scroll made of let­ters


“Dear Genius” is a col­lec­tion of near­ly 300 let­ters writ­ten by Ursu­la, a bril­liant Amer­i­can chil­dren’s book edi­tor, to authors, artists, crit­ics, and read­ers. These let­ters were select­ed from over 100,000 let­ters sur­viv­ing from her near­ly half-cen­tu­ry career. These authors and artists are many of the most cel­e­brat­ed tal­ents in the Amer­i­can (and inter­na­tion­al) chil­dren’s book world. Many of them have become increas­ing­ly famil­iar to Chi­nese read­ers and have count­less fans there. Many of the works dis­cussed in these let­ters have gone on to become clas­sics of chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture world­wide. Read­ers who love chil­dren and chil­dren’s books often yearn to under­stand the sto­ries behind these won­der­ful books, while chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture enthu­si­asts and researchers also seek to under­stand the cre­ators and the con­text behind their cre­ations. Ursu­la’s let­ters are tru­ly a rare first-hand resource.
How­ev­er, sim­ply read­ing the col­lec­tion of let­ters is inevitably con­fus­ing: if one does­n’t know much about the recip­i­ents, under­stand­ing their con­tent can be dif­fi­cult. And because copy­right and oth­er issues lim­it the col­lec­tion to sin­gle-sided cor­re­spon­dence, a com­pre­hen­sive under­stand­ing of the top­ics dis­cussed can be chal­leng­ing. There­fore, these let­ters may ini­tial­ly appear to be scat­tered frag­ments. But with enough patience, putting these “frag­ments” into a coher­ent order, search­ing for more rel­e­vant infor­ma­tion to trans­form them into clear­ly defined, fleshed-out char­ac­ters and sto­ries, and employ­ing a bit of detec­tive work to uncov­er the con­nec­tions between them, a seem­ing­ly com­plete scroll grad­u­al­ly emerges. And Ursu­la is pre­cise­ly the scroll of this scroll.
  
Ear­ly child­hood read­ing pro­mo­tion cam­paigns in the Unit­ed States

To ful­ly appre­ci­ate this long scroll, one needs to have a basic under­stand­ing of the progress of chil­dren’s read­ing pro­mo­tion in the Unit­ed States in the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry. While the Unit­ed States is now a clear super­pow­er in the chil­dren’s book sec­tor, in the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry, it was a mere fol­low­er of Europe (par­tic­u­lar­ly Britain), and pira­cy was ram­pant. Beat­rix Pot­ter’s The Tale of Peter Rab­bit, hailed as “the pio­neer­ing work of the mod­ern pic­ture book,” was pub­lished in Britain in 1902, and pirat­ed copies appeared in the Unit­ed States just two years lat­er! How­ev­er, with­in this ris­ing pow­er, a thriv­ing move­ment was under­way that sig­nif­i­cant­ly pro­pelled the devel­op­ment of Amer­i­can chil­dren’s books, grad­u­al­ly pro­pelling them to the fore­front of the world. This move­ment was the Amer­i­can Chil­dren’s Library Move­ment, or, in mod­ern par­lance, the Amer­i­can Chil­dren’s Read­ing Pro­mo­tion Move­ment.
This book intro­duces this move­ment through the sto­ry of the leg­endary chil­dren’s librar­i­an Vir­ginia Hav­i­land. Hav­i­land can be con­sid­ered a third-gen­er­a­tion pro­mot­er. Anne Car­roll Moore, the often-men­tioned head of the chil­dren’s book depart­ment at the New York Pub­lic Library, and Hav­i­land’s men­tor, Alice Jor­dan of the Boston Pub­lic Library, can be con­sid­ered sec­ond-gen­er­a­tion stan­dard-bear­ers. Thanks to this move­ment, the Unit­ed States began estab­lish­ing ded­i­cat­ed chil­dren’s read­ing rooms in pub­lic libraries in the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry. Librar­i­ans and com­mu­ni­ty mem­bers often read chil­dren’s books aloud to chil­dren as a pri­ma­ry means of pro­mot­ing read­ing. As ear­ly as 1902, the Boston Pub­lic Library had a ded­i­cat­ed sto­ry­teller. Lat­er, Miss Porter expressed her envy of this in a let­ter to Ms. Moore, as Britain was still quite con­ser­v­a­tive in this regard.
Pre­cise­ly because of this increas­ing­ly vig­or­ous pro­mo­tion, soci­ety’s demand for chil­dren’s books (espe­cial­ly trendy chil­dren’s books) grew, prompt­ing major pub­lish­ing hous­es to estab­lish ded­i­cat­ed chil­dren’s book depart­ments. In 1919, the world’s first chil­dren’s book edi­to­r­i­al depart­ment was estab­lished at Macmil­lan USA. Found­ing edi­tor Louise Bech­tel was only 25 years old, hav­ing grad­u­at­ed from the pres­ti­gious Vas­sar Col­lege only a few years ear­li­er. Sub­se­quent­ly, com­pa­nies like Dou­ble­day, Viking, and Harper’s also estab­lished chil­dren’s book depart­ments. In 1919, Ms. Moore, Mr. Matthews of the Boy Scouts of Amer­i­ca, and Mr. Melch­er, edi­tor-in-chief of Pub­lish­ers Week­ly, joint­ly launched the first Chil­dren’s Book Week. A few years lat­er, also at Melcher’s ini­tia­tive and spon­sor­ship, the Amer­i­can Library Asso­ci­a­tion’s Chil­dren’s Library Sec­tion estab­lished the New­bery Medal. In 1922, 212 librar­i­an rep­re­sen­ta­tives vot­ed for the first win­ner, The Sto­ry of Mankind. With such con­tin­u­ous pro­mo­tion, “A Mil­lion Cats” cre­at­ed by native Amer­i­can artist Wan­da Geiger was pub­lished in 1928. This work made chil­dren’s librar­i­ans rep­re­sent­ed by Moore par­tic­u­lar­ly proud, because it can be said to be the first world-class orig­i­nal local pic­ture book in the Unit­ed States — the soil cul­ti­vat­ed for a long time final­ly bore fruit.
  
Green­wich Vil­lage


Ursu­la entered the scene in the ear­ly 1930s. Ini­tial­ly a shy clerk in the col­lege text­book depart­ment of Harp­er & Com­pa­ny, she tran­si­tioned to the chil­dren’s depart­ment a few years lat­er and quick­ly found her place in the role that would ulti­mate­ly become a ground­break­ing edi­tor in Amer­i­can chil­dren’s pub­lish­ing. Dur­ing these ear­ly years, she pri­mar­i­ly lived in Green­wich Vil­lage.
Green­wich Vil­lage in Low­er Man­hat­tan, New York is a place men­tioned in many sto­ries in this book. We will see that: William Pene du Bois and Kara Kuskin grew up in this area; Ezra Jack Keates’s father worked as a wait­er in a cafe here, and lied to lit­tle Keates that he had exchanged soup for paint from a down-and-out artist; Mar­co Semon and Robert McCloskey raised ducks in the bath­tub of the apart­ment they shared here, and they lat­er became the mod­els for “Make Way for Duck­lings”; Mar­garet Wise Brown stud­ied ear­ly child­hood edu­ca­tion here and became a writer. She also bought a small stand-alone build­ing here as a stu­dio, and com­plet­ed clas­sic pic­ture books such as “The Run­away Bun­ny” and “Good­night Moon” here; Mar­garet and Ursu­la often met at a cafe on a cor­ner at break­fast time. The area was once a hub for con­ver­sa­tion; Clement Hurd, Leonard Weis­gaard, Mau­rice Sendak, and Tom­my Unger all lived here. Sendak and Unger had sim­i­lar sched­ules and often met for chats at meal­times. HA and Mar­garet Ray lived here before mov­ing to Boston. See­ing Ursu­la lone­ly, Mrs. Ray even brought her a pup­py. It was here that Mr. Ray com­plet­ed his book, “Stel­lar: A New Way of See­ing the Sky,” observ­ing the sky from the rooftop of a six-sto­ry apart­ment build­ing. EB and Kather­ine White also lived here in New York, and Char­lotte Zolo­tov rent­ed here with her hus­band when they were new­ly mar­ried. It was once a hub for writ­ers, artists, and rad­i­cals and alter­na­tive fig­ures (includ­ing homo­sex­u­als). Even today, despite its trans­for­ma­tion from a neigh­bor­hood of ten­e­ment build­ings to a high-end res­i­den­tial area with exor­bi­tant land prices, many in the arts still pre­fer to live there.
Look­ing back at Green­wich Vil­lage before the 1970s, it felt like a tru­ly sym­bol­ic vil­lage (even though it was essen­tial­ly made up of rein­forced con­crete blocks). Every­one in the vil­lage seemed to know each oth­er and had har­mo­nious rela­tion­ships, yet every­one was keen to go their own way, espe­cial­ly to be dif­fer­ent. Many land­mark works in the his­to­ry of Amer­i­can chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture were con­ceived or spawned there.
  
From Bank Street to Fifth Avenue


In Green­wich Vil­lage, there is a small street called Bank Street, which is actu­al­ly a small street between West 11th Street and West 12th Street. It was named after the Bank of New York, which once stood on this street. But what real­ly made this street world-famous was the Bank Street School of Edu­ca­tion, an exper­i­men­tal ear­ly child­hood edu­ca­tion insti­tu­tion that was estab­lished there.
Fifth Avenue, a major north-south thor­ough­fare in Man­hat­tan, New York, is often asso­ci­at­ed with extreme lux­u­ry, as many of the world’s lux­u­ry bou­tiques are clus­tered there. How­ev­er, in the heart of this prime loca­tion, there are sur­pris­ing­ly two libraries: the New York Pub­lic Library and its Man­hat­tan branch.
The dis­tance from the for­mer site of the Bank Street School of Edu­ca­tion to the New York Pub­lic Library is about 3 kilo­me­ters, or a 40-minute walk, which is quite close in a metrop­o­lis like New York. How­ev­er, in the first half of the 20th cen­tu­ry, the two became almost mor­tal ene­mies in the field of chil­dren’s books.
The stan­dard-bear­er of Bank Street School of Edu­ca­tion is the school’s founder, Lucy Mitchell, who was Mar­garet Wise Brown’s men­tor. At the same time as she found­ed the school, she also found­ed an exper­i­men­tal kinder­garten. Lat­er, she encour­aged a par­ent of a kinder­garten child to estab­lish Scott Com­pa­ny, which main­ly pub­lished works for mem­bers of the “Here and Now” cre­ative exper­i­men­tal group, and Mar­garet was the found­ing edi­tor and lead­ing writer.
The stan­dard-bear­er of the library camp was the afore­men­tioned Ms. Moore, who once played a cru­cial role in pro­mot­ing chil­dren’s read­ing. How­ev­er, in terms of her read­ing inter­ests, she pre­ferred tra­di­tion­al clas­sics and fairy tales embody­ing the ele­gance of the Vic­to­ri­an era. She dis­liked real­is­tic and uncon­ven­tion­al works and was averse to incor­po­rat­ing mod­ern art into chil­dren’s books. She was deeply opposed to Mitchel­l’s “here and now” writ­ing phi­los­o­phy, which empha­sized the expe­ri­ence of con­tem­po­rary life, and nat­u­ral­ly dis­liked Mar­garet. In her lat­er years, Ms. Moore became even more intol­er­ant, dis­lik­ing nei­ther the “Lit­tle House” series nor “Char­lot­te’s Web.” Due to her immense influ­ence in the chil­dren’s library com­mu­ni­ty, works she dis­liked often missed out on major awards and were even exclud­ed from pub­lic library rec­om­men­da­tions, sig­nif­i­cant­ly impact­ing their pro­mo­tion and sales.
Although Mar­garet was Michel’s most prized pro­tégé and assis­tant, her unique poet­ic tem­pera­ment and lit­er­ary sen­si­tiv­i­ty enabled her to sur­pass (and, to a cer­tain extent, betray) her men­tor. Her most suc­cess­ful works embody the con­cept of “here and now” while also retain­ing a poet­ic fan­ta­sy and fairy­tale-like charm. Ursu­la, born the same year as Mar­garet, was three months old­er, but she idol­ized her and was deeply influ­enced by her chil­dren’s book writ­ing and edit­ing philoso­phies. They shared a love of mod­ern art, which empha­sized free expres­sion, and nat­u­ral­ly gath­ered around artists like Hurd and Weis­gaard. Despite Mar­garet’s untime­ly death, the influ­ence of the exper­i­men­tal cre­ative com­mu­ni­ty at Bank Street Col­lege of Edu­ca­tion con­tin­ued to fer­ment and expand. Its suc­ces­sor, Ruth Kraus, teamed up with her hus­band, the left-wing artist Kroger John­son, and with the emerg­ing Mau­rice Sendak, they pro­duced a series of rev­o­lu­tion­ary works that were quite rev­o­lu­tion­ary for the era.
For­tu­nate­ly, by then, the chil­dren’s library and chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture crit­i­cism com­mu­ni­ties were grad­u­al­ly open­ing up. We saw promi­nent crit­ics like Lindquist, edi­tor-in-chief of Horn Books mag­a­zine; Hav­i­land, edi­tor-in-chief of the Chil­dren’s Book Cen­ter Newslet­ter; and George Woods, edi­tor-in-chief of the chil­dren’s sec­tion of The New York Times Book Review, all align­ing them­selves with the reformist move­ment rep­re­sent­ed by Ursu­la and oth­ers. More and more chil­dren’s librar­i­ans were re-eval­u­at­ing their pre­vi­ous judg­ments and grad­u­al­ly revis­ing them in var­i­ous ways. Although they failed to award a major prize to any of the “Lit­tle House” books, they even­tu­al­ly estab­lished a new life­time achieve­ment award for their creators—the Lau­ra Ingalls Wilder Medal, which they lat­er gave to E.B. White, author of “Char­lot­te’s Web.” In 1964, they even award­ed the Calde­cott Medal to the con­tro­ver­sial “Where the Wild Things Are” upon its release. Even Sendak lat­er said, “That was per­haps the most sur­pris­ing thing in my entire life.”
  
Before the cur­tain of his­to­ry


The 61 indi­vid­u­als fea­tured in this book are cul­tur­al elites active in the Amer­i­can chil­dren’s book indus­try since the 1930s. They are all con­sid­ered heavy­weights in terms of their achieve­ments and sta­tus. Let’s exam­ine their com­po­si­tion using a set of data.

 《天才们的那些事儿》序言(暂定稿)
 《天才们的那些事儿》序言(暂定稿)
 《天才们的那些事儿》序言(暂定稿)



Of these, 34 were women, a slight major­i­ty. Con­sid­er­ing that chil­dren’s book edi­tors (such as Ursu­la and Susan Hirschman) and chil­dren’s librar­i­ans at that time were all women, the gen­der ratio among chil­dren’s book cre­ators was rough­ly 50–50. In terms of birth­place, over 20% of the cre­ators were born in Europe, a char­ac­ter­is­tic of the Unit­ed States as a nation of immi­grants. In terms of eth­nic­i­ty, Jew­ish peo­ple made up over a quar­ter of the cre­ators. What explains this?
Let’s try to place these genius­es in the children’s book world in the con­text of Amer­i­can his­to­ry.
Let’s start with Lau­ra Ingalls Wilder. She grew up amidst the Amer­i­can west­ward expan­sion of the mid-to-late 19th cen­tu­ry. Janet Sper­ling Lowry and Fred Gib­son also expe­ri­enced sim­i­lar pio­neer­ing fam­i­ly life. How­ev­er, you’ll notice that Wilder’s “Log Cab­in” series appeared after 1932, dur­ing the height of the Great Depres­sion. It was pre­cise­ly at this time that such sto­ries res­onat­ed wide­ly.
From the mid-to-late 19th cen­tu­ry to the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry, the Unit­ed States expe­ri­enced sev­er­al large-scale waves of immi­gra­tion, with Euro­pean Jews being the most promi­nent. While some immi­grants were rel­a­tive­ly afflu­ent Ger­man and Aus­tri­an Jews, such as the ances­tors of Ruth Kraus and Mary Rogers, many were impov­er­ished Jews from East­ern Europe and Rus­sia, includ­ing the fathers of Ezra Jack Kitz, Mau­rice Sendak, Nat Hentoff, and Shel Sil­ver­stein. These impov­er­ished Jews pri­mar­i­ly clus­tered in the slums of Low­er Man­hat­tan and Brook­lyn in New York City, lat­er dis­pers­ing to cities like Boston and Chica­go. The two world wars, fought pri­mar­i­ly in Europe, drove a sig­nif­i­cant num­ber of Euro­pean cul­tur­al elites across the ocean to the Unit­ed States. Fig­ures like Isaac Singer, H.A. and Mar­garet Ray, Maya Woj­ciechows­ka, and Leo Lion­ni fled to the Unit­ed States. After the wars, fig­ures like Tom­my Unger, Eric Car­le, and Ani­ta Lobel, who had endured the hard­ships of war, immi­grat­ed to the Unit­ed States. Although the two world wars and the Great Depres­sion in between brought great eco­nom­ic impact to the Unit­ed States, they actu­al­ly pro­vid­ed excel­lent devel­op­ment oppor­tu­ni­ties for this large immi­grant coun­try, even in the field of chil­dren’s books.
Dur­ing the ear­ly Cold War fol­low­ing World War II, the polit­i­cal atmos­phere in the Unit­ed States was extreme­ly tense. McCarthy­ism was ram­pant, and many left-wing writ­ers were per­se­cut­ed, unable to pub­lish or teach nor­mal­ly. In oth­er words, their liveli­hoods were almost cut off. For­tu­nate­ly, how­ev­er, cen­sor­ship in the chil­dren’s book indus­try was less strict, and with the help of free-spir­it­ed and fear­less edi­tors like Ursu­la, a group of left-wing writ­ers such as John­son Kroger and Mil­li­cent E. Sel­som were attract­ed to the chil­dren’s book indus­try. Per­haps we owe some of the incred­i­ble tal­ent of chil­dren’s books like “Arrow Has a Col­ored Pen” to the ram­pant McCarthy­ism.
The 1960s marked per­haps the most tumul­tuous chap­ter in Amer­i­can his­to­ry: the Civ­il Rights Move­ment, the Viet­nam War and the anti-war move­ment, the assas­si­na­tions of Pres­i­dent Kennedy and Mar­tin Luther King, the wom­en’s move­ment, sex­u­al lib­er­a­tion, and gay and les­bian vio­lence against police… Inter­est­ing­ly, many land­mark works in the chil­dren’s book world were also pro­duced dur­ing this decade. For exam­ple, “The Snow Day,” the first pic­ture book fea­tur­ing a black child, won the 1963 Calde­cott Medal. In 1969, the less-than-19-year-old black artist John Step­toe pub­lished his acclaimed pic­ture book debut, “Steve.” That same year, the first juve­nile nov­el to address the top­ic of homo­sex­u­al­i­ty, “Arriv­ing: A Trip Worth the Jour­ney,” was pub­lished.
None of this is acci­den­tal. When we place the paths of these genius­es on the back­drop of his­to­ry, every­thing seems nat­ur­al.
  
Mav­er­ick genius­es


How­ev­er, while it is said that heroes are made by the times—that spe­cial fig­ures always emerge in cer­tain eras—why did these par­tic­u­lar indi­vid­u­als emerge? There must be some mys­tery involved.
In this book, we’ve com­piled a resume for each genius, assum­ing they were look­ing for a job. Imag­ined, it would be a port­fo­lio of impres­sive expe­ri­ences. But in real­i­ty, most of these indi­vid­u­als’ resumes, judg­ing sole­ly by their fam­i­ly back­ground, edu­ca­tion, and work expe­ri­ence, are large­ly unre­mark­able. On the job mar­ket, they’d be noth­ing more than a poten­tial office clerk or graph­ic design­er. For exam­ple, H.A. Ray dropped out of col­lege, and his pri­ma­ry job expe­ri­ence was sell­ing bath­tubs. Sendak only had a high school diplo­ma, attend­ed a few night art class­es, and his pri­ma­ry job expe­ri­ence was dec­o­rat­ing win­dows in a toy store. Sil­ver­stein strug­gled in col­lege, drew comics while in the mil­i­tary, and ini­tial­ly ran a hot dog stand after his dis­charge. EB White, despite attend­ing the pres­ti­gious Cor­nell Uni­ver­si­ty, changed jobs at least five times with­in four years of grad­u­a­tion, either quit­ting or being fired. In short, before reach­ing their peak in life, most of these indi­vid­u­als expe­ri­enced sim­i­lar­ly chaot­ic lives, some even strug­gling to make ends meet for near­ly half their lives. Yet, they all ulti­mate­ly sur­passed them­selves. What’s the secret?
In a let­ter to Sendak dat­ed Jan­u­ary 31, 1963, Ursu­la let slip a few secrets: “You are not the ‘dif­fi­cult genius.’ First of all, genius­es are nat­u­ral­ly dif­fi­cult…” Com­ing from some­one who dealt with this crowd con­stant­ly, this state­ment seemed quite plau­si­ble. Yet, in the eyes of Susan Hirschman, anoth­er tal­ent­ed edi­tor, only Ursu­la tru­ly deserved the title of genius because she was, in fact, dif­fi­cult. It was Ursu­la who fired Susan from Harper’s! This “dif­fi­cul­ty” was actu­al­ly a state of eccen­tric­i­ty, which, to oth­ers, seemed like a self-willed habit.
While these “genius­es” are at the top of the chil­dren’s book world, their works cap­ti­vat­ing and cap­ti­vat­ing, cap­ti­vat­ing count­less chil­dren world­wide, they almost all pos­sess a few “quirks,” and the greater their achieve­ments, the more pro­nounced their quirks. Of course, the “quirks” men­tioned here sim­ply describe their unique­ness. Some of these “quirks” are, from any per­spec­tive, per­fect­ly healthy. For exam­ple, Roland, a pio­neer farmer, con­stant­ly wrote in his spare time, a habit of writ­ing that can be con­sid­ered a virtue. Sim­i­lar­ly, M.E. Ker­r’s pen­chant for self-giv­en pseu­do­nyms, which stemmed from sim­ple finan­cial neces­si­ty, has grad­u­al­ly become a cher­ished virtue. How­ev­er, when these “quirks” reach deep­er lev­els, chal­leng­ing the stub­born ethics of their soci­eties, they often become embroiled in con­flict and con­tro­ver­sy. This is pre­cise­ly the most intrigu­ing aspect of the sto­ries of these genius­es: land­mark works often emerge from con­tro­ver­sy, and when they ulti­mate­ly over­come it, they emerge stronger and more pow­er­ful.
In the words of the rest­less Eva Golian: “Peo­ple who are nat­u­ral­ly gen­tle, calm, and don’t cause trou­ble, who always stay away from vio­lent emo­tions and evil temp­ta­tions — peo­ple who have nev­er had to fight side by side with angels at night and win with a limp until dawn — these peo­ple can nev­er become great saints.”
  
Growth in var­i­ous forms


Every­one who par­tic­i­pat­ed in com­pil­ing the infor­ma­tion and writ­ing the sto­ries of these genius­es in this book is a par­ent. We can’t help but want to explore their growth paths in the hope of learn­ing from them.
Over­all, the paths of these genius­es’ devel­op­ment vary wide­ly. Some came from well-off fam­i­lies, but those raised in such priv­i­leged cir­cum­stances seem more prone to rebel­lion, such as Clement Hurd and Mary Rogers. Oth­ers, like Ezra Jack Keates, came from rel­a­tive­ly dif­fi­cult back­grounds but nonethe­less devel­oped resilience, a skill that was evi­dent in their upbring­ing. Over­all, how­ev­er, the eco­nom­ic cir­cum­stances of these genius­es var­ied wide­ly, with more afflu­ent fam­i­lies tend­ing to have a stronger artis­tic atmos­phere, while less afflu­ent fam­i­lies appear to have clos­er rela­tion­ships. We often see that in less afflu­ent fam­i­lies, the bonds between sib­lings are often stronger. While par­ents may be unable to care for their chil­dren due to finan­cial dif­fi­cul­ties, the influ­ence they exert on each oth­er is immea­sur­able. The influ­ence and sup­port of their broth­ers played a cru­cial role in the devel­op­ment of indi­vid­u­als like Singer, Syd, White, Gib­son, DeJong, and Keates.

《天才们的那些事儿》序言(暂定稿)
As men­tioned above, their edu­ca­tion­al back­ground reveals that only 60% of this group com­plet­ed col­lege, 20% attend­ed col­lege but did not grad­u­ate, and anoth­er 20% either com­plet­ed high school or had unknown edu­ca­tion­al back­grounds. Of those who grad­u­at­ed, only sev­en went on to obtain a mas­ter’s degree or a dual degree. Of these, only one was male: Mr. Dono­van, who com­plet­ed his Mas­ter of Laws, but he lat­er changed careers. Near­ly 60% of these grad­u­ates were women, per­haps because, in their era, women seek­ing to make a liv­ing were more reliant on a col­lege degree. How­ev­er, for the vast major­i­ty of these indi­vid­u­als, the majors they stud­ied in col­lege often dif­fered sig­nif­i­cant­ly from the suc­cess­ful careers they ulti­mate­ly pur­sued. Their career suc­cess is large­ly due to inter­ests and habits cul­ti­vat­ed from child­hood, pri­mar­i­ly draw­ing and read­ing in the field of chil­dren’s books. If there was one com­mon thread grow­ing up, it was read­ing. Regard­less of their fam­i­ly back­grounds, they all shared a pas­sion for read­ing from a young age. Those who have a pen­chant for art often devel­op a habit of con­stant­ly paint­ing from a young age. For exam­ple, HA Lei, who trav­eled to the Ama­zon Basin in Brazil to sell bath­tubs, sketched mon­keys along the way. It would be strange if such peo­ple did­n’t become painters.
Anoth­er point worth not­ing is that, regard­less of whether or not the child­hoods of these chil­dren’s book genius­es can be inter­pret­ed as hap­py, they were undoubt­ed­ly mem­o­rable, and their child­hood mem­o­ries are an inex­haustible source of wealth for their cre­ations. More­over, even those whose child­hoods were less than com­mend­able were always sur­round­ed by those who loved them deeply, nur­tur­ing and encour­ag­ing them. The pow­er of love is more con­ducive to growth than mate­r­i­al com­forts. The most envi­able child­hoods are often those spent in close prox­im­i­ty to nature, on the prairies, on farms, in the moun­tains, by rivers, lakes, and the sea, either set­tled in their homes or on extend­ed vaca­tions. Such a growth envi­ron­ment, accom­pa­nied by a good edu­ca­tion and warm fam­i­ly affec­tion, is how genius­es like Roland Ingalls Wilder and E.B. White were nur­tured.
  
Suc­cess and hap­pi­ness


When dis­cussing a piece of lit­er­ary his­to­ry, peo­ple often focus on the work’s val­ue, the author’s con­tri­bu­tion, and their place in lit­er­ary his­to­ry. Few ask: Were the authors hap­py? Does read­ing their works bring hap­pi­ness to read­ers? Such ques­tions seem to have no his­tor­i­cal val­ue, or per­haps even impos­si­ble to answer. How­ev­er, when dis­cussing chil­dren’s books, such ques­tions seem par­tic­u­lar­ly rel­e­vant: Was the author of “Char­lot­te’s Web” hap­py? Does read­ing “Char­lot­te’s Web” bring hap­pi­ness to read­ers (pri­mar­i­ly chil­dren)? If you love chil­dren and cher­ish child­hood, how could you pos­si­bly not be con­cerned with such ques­tions?
When com­pil­ing the sto­ries of these genius­es, we paid spe­cial atten­tion to this ques­tion. While it’s impos­si­ble to inter­view each of them indi­vid­u­al­ly, let alone ask them, “Are you hap­py?” How­ev­er, through read­ing their auto­bi­ogra­phies, biogra­phies, and inter­views, con­sum­ing rel­e­vant audio­vi­su­al mate­ri­als, and observ­ing their actions, I’ve found that, as a cre­ative group, suc­cess­ful chil­dren’s book writ­ers are per­haps the hap­pi­est of all lit­er­ary cre­ative groups. There may be one or two excep­tions, but near­ly all chil­dren’s book writ­ers are deeply sat­is­fied with their read­ers. Their sto­ries may con­tain intense con­flicts and reveal the dark­er sides of human nature, but they almost always end with a fairy­tale promise: they will live hap­pi­ly ever after… And those who are par­tic­u­lar­ly sin­cere don’t see such promis­es as a tem­po­rary coax­ing, but sin­cere­ly seek solu­tions, com­fort­ing their young read­ers while also heal­ing their own wounds. As Hayao Kawai dis­cov­ered in “A Child’s Uni­verse,” child­hood holds a pow­er­ful pow­er that not only helps chil­dren but also great­ly helps adults.
Mau­rice Sendak was per­haps one of the genius­es who most pro­found­ly dis­cov­ered this secret. His life­long work seemed to be a form of heal­ing, par­tic­u­lar­ly address­ing the deep trau­ma of fear he endured grow­ing up. Near­ing his 80s, his part­ner of over half a cen­tu­ry was near­ing death. He stayed by her side in the hos­pi­tal room, him­self ill in anoth­er. The lone­li­ness, help­less­ness, and grief he felt were unimag­in­able to oth­ers. Dur­ing this time, he con­ceived a new pic­ture book. After his part­ner’s pass­ing, he plunged into his work, final­ly pub­lish­ing it at the age of 83 (a year before his death). It was “Adi the Pig,” per­haps the most light­heart­ed and cheer­ful of Sendak’s pic­ture books. Despite being born into a deeply Ortho­dox Jew­ish fam­i­ly, Sendak was not reli­gious. He said he envied those who believed, because life in this world with­out faith was bound to be much more dif­fi­cult. Yet, he ulti­mate­ly per­se­vered, liv­ing a ful­fill­ing life with few regrets, per­haps because he found his own way to pray—writing chil­dren’s books for chil­dren and for him­self.
For those genius­es who cre­ate chil­dren’s books, when their suc­cess is based on a per­fect con­nec­tion with child­hood, it must be an inde­scrib­able hap­pi­ness.


Ajia …
Writ­ten in Bei­jing on April 23, 2015