Why Children’s Books Are Important?

IBNA International Book News Agency – Elahe Shams: Children’s literature is not just entertainment; it’s a window to worlds that can change the nature of being, expand the mind, and even offer new hope for ethics and society. Now, more than ever, we need stories that warm our imaginations and propose new ways of living for us and our children.

W.H. Auden—the great poet and critic—wrote this sentence in a detailed note on Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland”: “There are good books that only adults can understand, but there is no good book that is only for children.” He is right. If written correctly, children’s books have the power to change, not just for an unbiased child, but for all ages.

A children’s author, unlike an adult novelist who is constantly preoccupied with the times and daily concerns, has the opportunity to break free from constraints. They must set aside all their mental preconceptions about narrative, not sacrifice simple language, and at the same time write their concerns for a fresh and inexperienced reader—because they are neither bound by traditions nor by common storytelling formulas.

Book awards always pave the way for more attention. The announcement of the new Booker Prize for Children’s Books is important news; it might be an opportunity for the discussion of children’s literature to become more serious. Children who read books or have books read to them often perform better in school. But great writers pursue the highest goal: shaping the “climate of the mind” for a leap into new ethical proposals and global thinking. The important thing is to take children’s minds to the expanse of possibilities and social and imaginary alternatives.

A close example is the author’s six-year-old granddaughter: from “Vlad the Vampire” to “Jumbly” poems, her tastes explore time and style like an adventurer. For her, children’s literature is neither confined by language and time; neither limited to today, nor bound by a distant past.

In children’s literature, authors can go further, take risks, build new worlds; they can both convince the fresh young audience and be the reason for adults to re-read. Great works, like “Alice,” or Kenneth Grahame’s “The Wind in the Willows” and Edith Nesbit’s fantastic realism, or Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are,” have become not just stories but an essential part of the mental and imaginative framework of a large group of people.

For many, these were their first real escapes; an opportunity to step beyond the boundaries of their limited experience. An experience of difference and diversity that always lasts. But now, most children don’t even have a single book; reports from the National Literacy Trust say only one-third of teenagers truly enjoy reading in their free time. The good news is that “Book Banks” offer free books alongside food, and of course, public libraries have always been the solution; a child who grew up with a library has a richer life and a wider horizon.

But not everyone has this chance. The author, who grew up years ago in Egypt, without a library but with the kindness of an English bookstore, secretly browsed books for weeks, immersed in the adventures of “Swallows and Amazons,” and that discovery of a different world was the spark of imagination.

Once, fairy tales and myths were mostly food for adults; storytelling was a way to suggest alternatives to the “usual flow.” A world where the washerwoman married the prince and the unfortunate stepmother got her just deserts. Stories belonged to everyone because they promised an escape from the cage of daily routine.

The main philosophy is this: all of us, child or old, need stories. From films and television to even the language of news, our daily content, all of it is imbued with stories. The distinction between fantasy and reality has blurred; like the author’s memory, who once mixed the legends of Troy with adults’ nightly talks about the battle of Libya—reality and fantasy intertwine again.

Despite all this, adult concerns such as memory, the presence of the past, and the clash of interests were what fed the author’s children’s books and adult novels—these two types of narrative, contrary to popular belief, are not enemies but share common roots.

Even when the publisher suggested choosing another name for the author’s adult novel to be taken seriously, they refused; the book reached the Booker shortlist. This hesitant view still exists in society. Just as Martin Amis says: “If I had a serious brain injury, I might write children’s books,” people like Katherine Rundell shine in both fields—a clear example of combining children’s storytelling and serious research in adult literature.

This year, with the unveiling of the Booker Prize for Children’s Books, perhaps a new perspective will be given to this field. It is hoped that a new generation of writers, and most importantly, enthusiastic child readers, will emerge from this movement.

Penelope Lively (the only writer to win both the Booker and the Carnegie Medal) had previously presented this short note in a special speech for the Booker Prize 2025.

Source: observer. Tuesday, 11 November 2025