Warning, WARNING! There's a conspiracy afoot! They're changing your beloved children's literature to conform to woke agendas, making everything politically correct...
Okay so, for the record, I just don't use the term 'woke' normally. It's inevitably being used wrong, and it's inevitably the start or prolongation of a stupid argument that doesn't further reasonable discussion at all. But this was the headline I was being confronted with when I dropped into the social media flow some nights ago now.
The thrust of the announcement was that slightly twisted children's author Roald Dahl, who you might know from the likes of Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, would be seeing some updates to the latest editions of his books. In general the very many little tweaks being proposed to the text of the books tended to involve less than kind or potentially offensive depictions of physical appearance being carefully (or ineptly) rephrased, although there was also the interesting case of the main character of Matilda reading Jane Austen rather than colonially-associated Rudyard Kipling. Probably won't prove to be a popular move with waistcoat-wearers, but otherwise, good choice, girl!
Now I speak here as a writer rather than the typical person who says woke a lot these days who is in a constant state of panic over all the mean things they can no longer 'just say'. I don't think changing these books is the right thing to do.
The main argument I've seen put forward against this viewpoint is that Dahl himself, in his lifetime, changed the text of his books from the originally published versions to conform with evolving viewpoints on what was and wasn't appropriate to say... or to diplomatically correct things that were never appropriate to say in the first place—oh yes, I'm onto you, Mr. Dahl. And in the case of the examples of this I've encountered, mostly to do with the portrayal of the Oompa-Loompas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who can be said to have espoused a number of controversial 'native tribe' stereotypes in their time, I say, good for him if he was happy to make those changes to ensure his work was more correctly understood... or more likely to continue making him money.
For my part, over the very many years I spent working on my debut novel, Hearts of Salt, I made a lot of small changes to how I'd originally written things as I grew and realised that even if something might be accurate to the character, even informative about that character, on many occasions the potential misunderstanding and hurt make it a bit petty to cling to that exact wording. And even now I've published, if I realise in the future that by changing a word or the phrasing of something in that book I can avoid being part of making other people very seriously unhappy... there is a non-zero chance I will do it, and not think any more about it.
It does depend on the circumstances: the fact is, absolutely any innocuous wording is likely to have hurtful associations for someone in the world, and you sometimes have to let both good and bad characters do bad things, that's a whole other discussion, but if I did decide to do something like that... a few words in the context of maybe fifty, a hundred thousand words, more? It's really not likely to have a negative impact on the artistic merit of the work, although I'd probably make a note about the change if any substantial number of people had already read it.
But in this kind of case we're talking about the original author, spearheading or at least accepting those changes. In the current case, we have others making these edits on behalf of the author who is now deceased. I think that matters, but we'll come back to that point later.
The question I'd like to take on first is this: at what point is modification of an already-publicised piece of art closer to vandalism?
So here's another change that is a bit more interesting than the ones I've mentioned in passing previously.
The original text: But not many years ago a law was passed that made it illegal to bring any tortoises into the country.
The revised text: But many years ago a law was passed that made it illegal to bring any tortoises into the UK.
Now I might just not be smart enough to see the potential harm in the ambiguity of location or exact time frame in the original text. But it seems to me that this isn't a change designed to protect anyone from emotional harm, but instead a change to make the intent of the original text more easily comprehended... but which actually ends up confusing matters if the reader assumes the original publication date of the text is relevant to the words. The meaning of the text has actually therefore been changed a little here.
Now it's unlikely that very many people care about the accuracy of the reporting on the 1984 tortoise ban, but an example of this kind of modification that is more evocative of the potential issues here comes in George Lucas's celebrated Star Wars franchise, and the changes the original creator himself has made to the original movies since their original release. These changes have included the substitution of computer graphics where puppets were previously used or subtle shifting of the order of events in important scenes... and have proved very upsetting to the fans who loved the movies as they were originally presented. Lucas or those operating on his behalf have furthermore gone to tremendous efforts to make sure the movies as originally presented are not accessible, and in response some fans have undertaken amazing efforts to reverse the changes in more recently released editions of the movies so they can once more enjoy the original experience. You should look into the 'despecialised' editions of the movies: that work should be celebrated along with the pyramids.
George Lucas, undoubtedly, had the right to decide he wished to make modifications to his own creative work. And one can understand his desire to bring his original vision more accurately to his audience with the evolution of digital technologies. But as much as I assert his authority over his work, I also think he forgot the duty he had to the fans he had already cultivated in his desire to correct that work.
Of course as a creative you shouldn't get too caught up in what other people expect of you. That's how we end up with ever-greater masses of formulaic work being churned out at the top of the market. But obviously the people who enjoy the things you create matter. If they didn't matter, then who on earth would go to any trouble to make sure anyone reads or watches or listens to anything they do? It is a lot easier to just create things how you want to create them, and a lot of creative people probably do just quietly create for themselves. Over the years I have quietly created a lot of stuff for my own enjoyment that I have no intention of sharing, usually because those works have personal meaning to me and would have little or none to anyone else, and I therefore simply do not wish to solicit the thoughts of others on them.
On the flip side of this, a lot of creative people also go out there seeking to create for a particular audience, or they go looking for an audience to promote to. And now that I'm a bit more experienced with my writing, I find myself frequently doing this too. That doesn't have to equal 'selling out', although I think capitalistic or ego-driven goals can also be valid. Leaving discussion of those aside on this occasion: as creatives, as humans, we want our efforts to be recognised, to matter to someone other than ourselves. We want to build a relationship with other people through the most beautiful sort of communication we have. That's totally natural.
Once you do build that relationship, in my opinion, that should matter to you. The fact that you've created a specific thing that has had an impact on someone else's life should matter. You should appreciate, among other things, that you have absolutely no idea in what specific way your work did impact those other lives it reached out and touched. And for that reason you should be very careful when it comes to deciding that you want to make it more complicated for that audience to access the exact version of your work that they first connected with for the sake of your creative whims. You simply do not know what you're playing with there, and if you take exception to the fact that it's no longer 100% about your creative whims, then maybe you shouldn't be putting your work out there yet.
Is this a hot take? Maybe, but it's just the usual good advice for anyone who creates flipped on its end, right? If you're not ready to handle critique, you shouldn't share... and if you're not ready to be told people want you to leave your work the Furby alone and let them enjoy it as it stands, then you should also probably wait to share until you're ready to let go.
Having said all that, I am relatively confident that very few people are going to be drastically harmed by the changes to Dahl's works, and that to the contrary, a lot of people who may have found certain wordings uncomfortable in the prior versions will be more comfortable with these versions. It's a slippery slope we're looking down here, but I really don't know that in the Dahl scenario we're ever going to get far enough down it that it matters. However I did still think it was important to acknowledge and consider the issue. It's far too common these days for enjoyers of entertainment to be treated as if they are sources of eyeballs and money whose love for the entertainment materials themselves can be manipulated as is convenient, and I think the way this situation has been played is yet another example of this.
This is as good a time as any to go back to that point I unceremoniously dropped earlier, which is that these changes are not being made by the original author. More specifically, my point is that Roald Dahl is dead, gone, an ex-author. Even more specifically, my point is that these books of his are actually quite freaking old, that they have had a tremendous dash already in the market for children's literature.
A spectacular dash, in fact. The estate of Roald Dahl is worth millions upon millions even today, and has recently been bought by Netflix because, one imagines, they believe they can use it to make even more money. And naturally, the owners of this tremendous cash cow want to protect their investment and make sure there is absolutely nothing that could gum up the gears in terms of getting it in front of as many eyeballs and screen readers as possible.
So that's what's really incentivising these edits, not any desire to be 'woke' or compassionate or whatever you prefer to call it. And even if the vast majority of the proposed changes would be positive changes for the vast majority of potential readers, I think we should all be bothered by this kind of surgery being done on so-deemed literary classics in the name of maintaining an investment. Not just because of how cynical and tacky the whole thing is, but because it sounds a dire warning for what we have to look forward to in the future of entertainment. A future we're, frankly, already living. And for more on that let's look to the current biggest IP that ever IP'd.
These days, wild as it seems, I have adult friends who were born after the publication date of the first Harry Potter book. As a franchise its maximum hype levels have outlived those of many other franchises: The Hunger Games, Twilight, Fifty Shades of Grey, Divergent, The Maze Runner... it's amazing, and frankly kind of bizarre, since—warning, hot take incoming—the books are not that amazing. The writing is adequate and sometimes very funny but nothing to write home about when you consider the likes of Philip Pullman or Diana Wynne Jones who also contributed some amazing and beautifully written literature for children to the world without reaching those same heights. The plot is, frankly, consistently mean-spirited compared to the rather thematically similar but more inclusive Percy Jackson books. And I mean it's fiction, that's fine, but it's frankly... interesting, to me, that this is what apparently took everyone by storm once upon a time. I don't think it was ever based purely on what it had to offer compared to other franchises.
I know it's trendy to hold negative opinions about Harry Potter now because of author J.K. Sc—ahem—Rowling's recent antics, but I can say with complete confidence that I have been holding these opinions since before Rowling's only tweets were about how her priority was pen and paper or whatever. (Girl, you should have stuck with that!) And yet, I can't deny that something about the books and their associated movie world, and the subsequent investment put into marketing both, has a tremendous hold on very many people! Would I like to create something that has this kind of staying power? Absolutely! Although even for Rowling herself, who has expressed a pretty clear desire to move on to other works, it seems to have been a bit of a double-edged wand. Harry Potter fans are often desperately begged to please, read another book, and I think Rowling herself would be down with that to some degree. Creatively speaking, she is a victim of the success of her own franchise.
The thing is, a lot of what you could say about Harry Potter you could say about Roald Dahl's bibliography. The writing is... well, it's fine, but to be honest a lot of what's in those books is iconic because of shock value and not in line with what I necessarily want my children having pushed to them as somehow extra-meaningful. (I hope my wife never sees I said this or she may dye my hair in my sleep or something.)
The point is that both Harry Potter and the Roald Dahl bibliography are bigger than their original author and that person's desires now. The publishers of the books have a stake in them, and so does everyone associated with the movies and other merchandise that have been generated around the books. There are a lot of people who stand to benefit from both of these franchises continuing to bring in the big bikkies.
So... in the light of what is happening with the Dahl estate, I think it's very reasonable to expect that this could be the future for Harry Potter: that once the text starts to feel too antiquated, whatever juggernauts are profiting from the books long after Rowling has shuffled off to die atop her hill of being weird about trans people will do absolutely anything to ensure the continued market share of that IP. And the assertion then, as now, will be that modifying children's books in such a way is good because it breaks down any barriers that might otherwise exist between those books and the children who read them, who can then do so without requiring special guidance from the adults around them.
I don't think that's a good thing at all. I think that friction in older books should be allowed to remain, and if the text is too antiquated, for those books to be allowed to slip out of the top spots in their 'true' form as it is, and for new books written with more modern sensibilities to find the space to take over. Further, I think we really need to stop offering free promotion to older books that do have a big money-making machine behind them, or at least stop treating them as if they exist on the same playing field as other books.
Now, I have the utmost respect for a good classic. I've read many children's books from eras prior to my own childhood that did not benefit from careful rewriting. I am 'a reader', beyond just being someone who can and does read when they have to, so I'm used to dealing with the complexities of such books. There will always be readers who seek out classics from prior eras. These older books have the power to convey the perspective and attitude of the time they were written in, as well as something of the character of the writer. There's a kind of information beyond words in them when they are allowed to remain, in that way, as snapshots of an earlier time.
And without the courtesy of these historical works to remain at least somewhat unedited, unprivileged and untouched by big business (although abridged classics for children were a source of much anxiety in my childhood too), perhaps many of the books kids enjoy today would not have found a place in the market—for better or worse as it may be.
What future great works of literature are we going to miss out on, simply because it's harder to claim a piece of real estate in the human consciousness when the existing players are so effective at maintaining theirs? Don't tell me 'oh, these classics will help get people reading,' because that's obviously not what happens. The extreme emotional response from some in the face of the debate over boycotting the recent Harry Potter game, totally aside from any beliefs on the game or such a boycott, makes this clear. These kinds of hugely successful franchised IPs aren't creating readers who can easily move on to other books, they're just there to make a place for themselves in the ecosystem.
What does create a reader then? Well, not everyone is suited to being a wide reader, and that's fine. For those who work to develop it as a skill though, I think it can be a social thing, just like many people end up reading Roald Dahl because of parents or friends who have read Roald Dahl. Young people stand a better chance of being interested in reading a variety of things if those around them are reading a variety of things. And if more experienced readers offer them guidance in tackling more complex works, they will gain confidence to seek out those works for themselves if something catches their interest, even if they don't see everyone around them reading those exact works.
What is happening when you carefully modify older, still-marketable classics to make them even more marketable is the opposite of this. You're not supposed to have a chat to the child reading beforehand about how things were different when a certain book was first written, that people can be cruel without realising it, that not everything you read should be taken as factual. You're not supposed to decide that maybe a particular book is not a good fit for a particular child at a particular time. The goal is to be able to deploy these known quantities to your child's hands or device and not have to give the situation another moment's thought.
The proposed changes to Roald Dahl's work are not political correctness in action, though maybe they did start with sensitivity readers: they're a cynical attempt to sanitise something that some might rightly not consider the right material for their young children to enjoy at present, to keep that product active in the market when the original author is dead and his heirs have already benefited in huge part from his efforts. And you know what? I'm sure the people who signed off on this are quite happy with the idea that you might think you're fighting against some regressive nonsense when you support this move.
In fact, their own actions already show this is not about taking a moral position but making whatever moves will maximise their customer base. The latest word is that in response to public backlash, the publishers are going to go back on the revisions plan to some degree, allowing both the original and modified versions to coexist with the changes now making for 'abridged for children' editions. Whoever you are, they intend to have a version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that won't offend you, and now if you've been following the news you've definitely got those books on the mind again. Maybe you even want to grab the version you knew as a kid before it's lost forever, or replace your old books with ones that are more appropriate to read to your children at bedtime. I wouldn't go so far as to claim this has all been a publicity stunt to begin with, but it really makes you think, doesn't it?
I personally hate the idea that the future will be big business telling us what we want to read and how it will be configured when we do read it. Surely we don't have to let ourselves be played like this. Don't let nostalgia convince you that the next generation has to discover all the same things you did at their age, or that you absolutely must make sure those works exist on a basic reading level at any cost. If you are an adult, let the generations coming after you discover their own classics without interfering as a mouthpiece for powerful people who stand to make a lot of money. Or at least if you do genuinely want to pass on these super-popular IPs, try to pass on some obscure nostalgia as well, not just what you remember best because it's still getting millions pumped into its promotion today.
Meaningful works of literature will always survive in some form or other, or at least there's no reason they shouldn't in this digital age so long as someone still cares for them. Those of us who care about good works over money should let what's already had its dash sink or swim on its own merits and actively prioritise the rising of new and interesting voices. This is the dream that our new more online and connected world was supposed to help with: that artists who have something to say can achieve great success at their life's work in their lifetime without being hopelessly blocked by gigantic companies.