Yesterday I went to London
for a symposium in the British Library on writing for children about
First World War. I went because I am involved with the group that
organised it, and I am not sure what my expectations were. War Horse is one of the best books ever written about any war,
and it is also a very interesting phenomenon because the novel, the
theatre performance and the film are all brilliant, each in its own
way. I was particularly sceptical about the film, but it was
excellent. Anyway, Michael Morpurgo was obviously there, but I must
admit that I wasn't familiar with the other three writers. They had
fifteen minutes each to tell the audience why and how they write
about First World War for children, and they had very different
approaches, which was very interesting. I have already bought three
books.
If I had moderated the discussion I would have probably asked quite different questions from those
posed because I am an academic and interested in boring things, like fictionality. How do you make today's children understand that
all this really happened? That it isn't fantasy, adventure, dystopia,
computer game? Many books use authentic letters, photos and other
documents, but why is great-great-Uncle Will more real than any
adventure hero? It's all once upon a time, not my time, not your
time, but somebody else's time. How can we make children feel the
pain and the horror? Do we want them to feel the horror?
But mostly the questions
were good, and the answers better still. I was pleased to hear that
the writers believed that French and even German fates deserved to
be portrayed.
And yet I could not help
thinking: what about the Eastern front? The writers discussed at
length how the war between the UK and Germany started, but the war
actually started between Austria-Hungary and Serbia, very far away
from the UK. I am sure the writers knew it, but for them it was a
small fact of little consequence. Their war was elsewhere. (I know I
am unfair).
And for Russia, the war
brought about the worst human tragedy of all times, the aftermath of
which we see today in Ukraine, and who knows how close we are to
Third World War. I hope I am wrong.
I am deeply moved by
British memory of the Great War. I am a bit envious. I wish I had a
generational memory I could cherish, but for my country, these was no victory.
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