In the dedication to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis wrote to his goddaughter, Lucy: “I had not realised that girls grow quicker than books … but some day, you will be old enough to start reading fairytales again.” It’s a sentiment I think about each time I return to my favourite children’s books; their simpler prose and tidy denouements all feel a bit like fairytales to me now, and thank goodness. When the frustrations of adulthood become too much, what can be better than transporting oneself – for a few hours, at least – to a world where even the scariest of scenarios tends to turn out all right in the end? And as an American facing one of the most contentious presidential elections I can remember, no children’s book feels more prescient – or offers me more hope in the face of my country’s turmoil – than EL Konigsburg’s The View from Saturday.
Despite having been published two decades ago, this book aimed at nine- to 12-year-olds tackles issues we continue to debate today: acceptance of different ethnicities and religions; rights and respect for disabled people; thinking big over speaking to the lowest common denominator. Konigsburg tells the stories of four children and then brings their viewpoints together on – you guessed it – a Saturday. We watch Noah, Ethan, Nadia and Julian slowly grow from awkwardly isolated sixth-graders to champions of each other – and of their entire school.
The Souls, as the four kids call themselves, are selected by their teacher Mrs Olinski to compete in the school’s Academic Bowl quiz. Konigsburg bounces readers back and forth between the journeys that led to each character’s selection and the Souls’ surprising success as they move from competition against their fellow sixth-graders, to a school-wide match-up, to a history-making run for intellectual glory. The question of whether you’re smarter than these sixth-graders arises time and again as the students move through the levels, answering questions such as: “What is the meaning of the word calligraphy and from what language does it derive?” (Answer: Calligraphy derives from Greek and means beautiful writing).
This is a children’s book, so the question of whether or not the Souls succeed in their academic quest is never in much doubt. The personal journeys that get them to that success, though, are decidedly nuanced and less certain. We struggle with Nadia as she comes to terms with her parents’ divorce and her grandfather’s late remarriage (to Margaret, “a short blonde … who dresses atrociously”). We sit next to Ethan as he rides the bus to school and is torn between sitting back and letting a fellow classmate be bullied or standing up for what is right. And we enjoy tea with Julian, whose father can only watch as his son is attacked for the crime of having an accent and different colour skin to his mostly white classmates. As teachers across the US report an increase in bullying against students who look or sound different, Julian’s story feels especially relevant.
But Julian’s journey is not without hope. Nor are those of his peers, as they dare to befriend classmates different from themselves. The Academic Bowl competition brings the Souls together, but their decision to embrace the unknown transcends age and offers a lesson for us all. As Julian’s father tells Mrs Olinski, the children “found kindness in others and learned how to look for it in themselves”. We are not born feeling hate for those different to ourselves; it is learned. The View from Saturday gives me hope that it is never too late – or too early – to find that kindness for each other beyond the pages.
