Beyond Homework
A librarian makes the case that biographies can be great reads, too
Staff -- School Library Journal, 2/1/2001
Maybe I was just a really weird kid, but my favorite genre growing up was biography. I read about astronauts, Indian chiefs, presidents, scientists, soldiers, you name it. I remember in high school being totally fascinated by Peter Maas's story of Frank Serpico, the New York City cop who blew the whistle on rampant corruption in the police department when I was just in diapers. I read that biography six times! I also the saw the Al Pacino movie--it was good, but the book was way better. I wanted to be a cop after I read Serpico. I got as far as being accepted to the New York City Police Academy before my worried mother, envisioning her only son being shot, talked me out of it. That's how powerful a good biography can be.
I conclude that I must have been a weird kid because I have yet to encounter a teen in the library who reads biographies for enjoyment, as I did. There are certain kinds of biographies kids do seek out to read for fun: singers, sports stars, television personalities, and other celebrities. I read those, too, but I also read about people like General Custer, Albert Einstein, Mahatma Gandhi, and Thomas Jefferson. I actually read those books for pleasure, which I do not see kids doing these days. Maybe they never did, and I really was some anomalous, twisted geek. The notion of becoming involved in the life of a real person always held more appeal for me than reading about a made-up character.
I have to wonder if librarians are somehow at fault for leaving young patrons with the impression that biographies are either cheap throwaways on the latest celebrity or fodder for homework assignments, and nothing else. Perhaps we have become so accustomed to kids using them that way that we don't think to make more of an effort to market them as something exciting, inspiring, or enjoyable. Of course, teachers don't help with the image of biographies either; too often they are associated with a dreaded assignment for their English or history classes. That makes them a whole lot harder to sell, but then, we are not trying to promote them, anyway.
The notion of becoming involved in the life of a real person always held more appeal for me than reading about a made-up character.
One simple thing we can do to make these books more interesting to teens is to pay more attention to the quality of what we purchase for our collections. There are a lot of great biographies being published, but there is also a lot of junk, and librarians are not going to enough trouble to distinguish between the two. What is a quality biography? Let's think about some really good ones.
Take a look at Marc Aronson's Sir Walter Ralegh and the Quest for El Dorado (Clarion, 2000); Dennis Fradin's Samuel Adams: The Father of American Independence (Clarion, 1998); and Russell Freedman's The Life and Death of Crazy Horse (Holiday House, 1996). Add to that list James Cross Giblin's Charles A. Lindbergh: A Human Hero (Clarion, 1997); Albert Marrin's Commander in Chief: Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War (Dutton, 1997); Elizabeth Partridge's Restless Spirit: The Life and Work of Dorothea Lange (Viking, 1998); Jane Resh Thomas's Behind the Mask: The Life of Elizabeth I (Clarion, 1998); and Janet Wilson's The Ingenious Mr. Peale (Atheneum, 1996), just to name a few. What these books have in common is the outstanding treatment given to their respective subjects. The obvious enthusiasm of these authors for their subjects is reflected in their meticulous research; their narratives that go far beyond just informing their readers; their painstaking attention to detail, and their thoughtfulness in deciding which illustrations, photographs, and other artifacts are chosen and how they are used in conjunction with the text. Those are the requisites for a quality biography, one that will grab readers' attention and spark their imaginations.
Unfortunately, for all of these outstanding titles, there are many more being published that reinforce the misconception that biographies are only for homework. I am speaking here of formulaic series biographies being cranked out by the dozens that pale in comparison to singular works. Two examples are recent biographies of Lorraine Hansberry and Martha Graham. Catherine Scheader's Lorraine Hansberry: Playwright and Voice of Justice (Enslow, 1998), part of the "African-American Biographies" series, is distinctly inferior when compared to Patricia C. McKissack and Frederick L. McKissack's Young, Black, and Determined: A Biography of Lorraine Hansberry (Holiday House, 1998). The books use many of the same archival photographs, but they are grainy, dark, and smaller in Scheader's biography. Their presence seems formulaic and obligatory. The representation in the McKissacks' book is far superior. The photographs are brighter and larger, and they are more imaginatively laid out with text. There is also a sharp contrast in the quality of the prose in these texts. For example, both books describe the Broadway premiere of Hansberry's A Raisin in the Sun. Scheader writes:
"Applause exploded at the end of the first act. During intermission, a cyclone of voices surrounded Hansberry. Shouts of praise topped questions and predictions…. The supreme moment came after the final curtain fell. Sidney Poitier swept Hansberry onto the stage where she looked down on the excited, cheering crowd."
Contrast that description with that of the McKissacks:
"The night A Raisin in the Sun premiered on Broadway, the history books were rewritten and a lot of stereotypes were dimmed if not altogether erased. The moment Lloyd Richards came out on stage following the performance, the audience stood and roared their approval. After the crowd had applauded for a full fifteen minutes, Sidney Poitier went into the audience and escorted the playwright to the stage…. While the theater shook with another round of thunderous applause, Lorraine Hansberry took her bows as the first black woman to have a play produced on Broadway."
The latter vividly captures the importance of the moment, both in the context of history and in Hansberry's career and personal life. Scheader reports the facts of the event, but the McKissacks infuse them with drama and triumph. Both books inform readers, but the McKissacks go one better in engaging them as well.
Paula Bryant Pratt's Martha Graham (Lucent, 1995), part of "The Importance of" series is a poor substitute for Russell Freedman's Martha Graham: A Dancer's Life (Clarion, 1998). As with the Hansberry biographies, many of the same archival photographs are used, but with sharp contrasts in quality. The photographs in Pratt's book are smaller, less clearly rendered, and unimaginatively laid out with the text. The photographs in Freedman's title are lavishly reproduced, often in full-page plates. They perfectly complement the prose, which lovingly and vividly celebrates the talent and achievements of this remarkable woman. There is an equally sharp contrast in the quality of writing. Introducing her subject, Pratt offers this description of Graham:
"Dancer and choreographer Martha Graham invented modern dance, in which the dancer's hard work is exposed to the audience. This represented a major break from the tradition of ballet, in which the dancers try to defy gravity, hiding the work of the movement. Graham's life and work continue to inspire. Dancers today still attribute certain movements and certain dances to her influence. In her own time, it took courage to create a new artistic vision. Today, Graham's methods have become part of the traditional legacy of dance and are taught in schools around the world."
Contrast that dry, textbook-like prose with Freedman's:
"Graham invented a revolutionary new language of dance, an original way of moving that she used to reveal the joys, passions, and sorrows common to all human experience. She had a genius for connecting movement with emotion…. For more than seventy years Graham danced, choreographed, and taught. She developed a distinctive system of training that could be taught to others, founded a school that has trained generations of dancers and choreographers, and changed the world of dance and dance theater for all time. The Martha Graham Dance Company is the world's oldest continuously performing modern dance troupe. And the Graham technique is used today by dance companies throughout the world."
Both authors give the facts, but Freedman makes you want to read about Graham. He succeeds where Pratt fails because he does not have to plug into a formula and can help readers get to know his subject, not just to know about her.
Ironically, in both of the examples cited, the series titles are priced higher than the individual works. It just goes to show that excellence does not necessarily cost more.
Once we fill our shelves with quality biographies, we have to do a better job of selling them, and that requires us to think differently about them. Instead of describing Young, Black, and Determined as a useful book on the life of Lorraine Hansberry, why not whet readers' appetites by calling it an inspiring story of a courageous, creative young black woman determined to succeed? Milton Meltzer's Tom Paine: Voice of Revolution (Watts, 1996) is the story of a quintessential rebel who questions everyone and everything. Albert Marrin's Terror of the Spanish Main: Sir Henry Morgan and His Buccaneers (Dutton, 1998) is a riveting tale of thievery and murder on the high seas. Audrey Osofsky's Free to Dream–The Making of a Poet: Langston Hughes (Lothrop, 1996) is an affectionate portrait of an artist, offering wonderful insights into the influences Hughes's formative years would have on his writings.
We have to start thinking of biographies as more than just information before can begin convincing our readers of the same. If we make more of an effort to buy quality biographies and promote them to our readers as something more than the answer to a homework assignment, then maybe they won't only be read by the weirdo geeks like me.
Ed Sullivan works for the Children's Defense Fund at the former Alex Haley Farm in Clinton, TN. He is the director of the Langston Hughes Library.
