CURIOUS GEORGE
by H.A. Rey
Educational Tool or Irresponsible Menace? Children's Classic Demands Socially Responsible Reading
The celebrated children's classic Curious George is a seemingly simple story about an innocent - yet inquisitive - African monkey snatched from his jungle home. Children have loved this boldly illustrated story, in primarily primary colors, and marveled to the adventures of the curious little monkey for decades. The text is easy to read and immediately engaging, but a closer reading reveals a much darker side to the popular tale that spawned sequels, toys, and cartoons. Not only does the story reveal the sinister side of a corrupt wildlife trade with perilous roots in Western imperialism, but recent ethical, legal and scientific considerations on the personhood of primates makes a traditional reading of Curious George both impossible and irresponsible.
The book begins with a picture of a happy monkey swinging in a tree and eating a banana. The image is so pleasant, in fact, that even the flowers in the illustration have happy faces. The little monkey is happy as well, until he is captured, when his wide grin turns to a grimace. When H.A. Rey first wrote the book in the early 1940s, public attention and conservation efforts failed to focus on a dangerous and controversial wildlife trade where millions of apes and monkeys are slaughtered, captured, and sold into animal slavery, and babies are frequently snatched from the lifeless bodies of their mothers. In Rey's book there is no violent capture-only a benign looking white man - presumably a wildlife trader -- in a big yellow hat.
"What a nice little monkey," he [the man] thought. "I would like to take him home with me" (6).
A couple of pages later, the monkey's curiosity gets the best of him. Like an African tribal member centuries earlier, the monkey is deceived by the trader, bagged, and sold. George's happy face turns to fear.
"George was sad" (12).
The author quickly detracts from the sadness of the monkey, however, an animal that shares almost 100 percent of human DNA and is - in fact - humankind's closest living relative, lest twentieth century children react too sentimentally toward a species not their own. Perhaps for this reason, George, as he is now known, is never shown with his primate family. Although the white man in the yellow hat is never depicted mistreating the monkey (although some might argue dressing a wild animal in human clothes is the cruelest form of exploitation), the monkey is, nevertheless, a "naughty little monkey" (36). George is constantly unsupervised, gets in trouble with the police, and is even sent to jail. The picture of the forlorn little primate alone in his cell conjures haunting images of countless monkeys lingering in laboratories, suffering silently and alone, or the millions of primates hunted into extinction or forced to live unnatural lives dedicated to human pleasure.
To continue to read Curious George as a harmless children's adventure about a wayward monkey is irresponsible. The implicit connection between animal suffering and a wildlife trade where primates and other nonhuman animals are caught and sold for laboratories, zoos, and other forms of human exploitation is never mentioned in Rey's book. While some might claim such political or philosophical musings have no place in a children's story, and certainly such topics were not addressed in 1941, when the book was first published, the frightening implication for young readers is that wildlife exists for human use and pleasure. Such a view makes it easy to view the little monkey as much better away from the strong bonds of primate family units of which Dr. Jane Goodall writes, before he is transported to a city where he wears human clothes, sleeps in a bed, smokes a pipe, and is sold to a zoo. A modern, socially responsible reading of the book must focus on a socially just solution to the problems presented by the monkey's capture. Such a reading makes Curious George an excellent educational tool in teaching children an environmental ethic where the rights of all creatures are valued and considered.
Read Joe Garofoli's article in the San Francisco Chronicle about Curious George, Ark Online, and More . . .
HERB, THE VEGETARIAN DRAGON
by Jules Bass
Meat is Murder & More Food for Thought
Once upon a time carnivorous dragons made mayhem and murder in a quest for human meat. But peace-loving Herb, an herbivore, is different: Herb is a vegetarian. While other dragons dined on princesses and supped on crunchy knights in armor, Herb gleefully gleaned his garden. In Herb, the Vegetarian Dragon by Jules Bass, with illustrations by Debbie Harter, wit and whimsy combine in a seemingly silly story about food choices. No matter what one’s personal food preferences, Bass’ book, first published in 1999, resonates with the freedom of choice and the acceptance of alternative lifestyles.
Long ago, in the medieval forest of Nogard, no distinction existed between human and nonhuman flesh—something dragons—along with cannibals and vegetarians—have always known. (French filmmakers Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet focused on this fact in 1991 with their disturbing, “Delicatessen,” a mildly horrific, futuristic flick about meat eating gone amuck. When traditional meat supply goes extinct, meat lovers make no distinction between species when it comes to breast meat, ribs, or rump roast). “Every dragon in the forest of Nogard was a meat eater,” begins the book, and “Meathook was their leader.” In contrast to the other dragons, all red with anger like the fire they breathe, Herb is wide eyed, happy, and surrounded by a scope of vibrant veggies, birds, butterflies and flowers. But because Herb is not a dragon like all the rest, he is unaware of the king’s decree: that all dragons are to be beheaded. So while peacefully preparing a veggie stew, with the help of a bunny, bird, and a couple of mice or two, hapless Herb is caught and imprisoned. When Meathook offers Herb his freedom in exchange for becoming one of them—eating meat—Herb stays true to his peaceful principles. “You can’t be different in the dragon world and survive,” Meathook murmurs, before Herb is dragged to the executioner.
Award- winning film maker, writer, songwriter, and director, and one part of the acclaimed Rankin/Bass Entertainment, Bass is well known for animated children’s film classics such as “Frosty the Snowman,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “The Little Drummer Boy.” Herb the Vegetarian Dragon is his first foray into the realm of children’s picture books, and it is obvious Bass is well aware of a vegetarian argument that’s now become cliché: meat is murder.
So why read such a story to children? Why introduce them to potential problems and ethical dilemmas that invariably arise with the topic of meat eating? The book teaches vocabulary new to most children—herbivore and carnivore—along with the opportunity for parents and caregivers to teach the meanings and politics behind these terms. For educated adults the topic of a meat-free diet is increasingly relevant, no matter what side of the political spectrum one sits. With multimillion-dollar agribusiness and environmental devastation side by side with world hunger and an American obesity epidemic, Herb the Vegetarian Dragon is a powerful lesson on making intelligent food choices. More than ever, children and adults must be educated in healthy habits. In the wake of culinary catastrophes Mad Cow, E. Coli, and other unsavory subjects such as hormones, obesity, and cloning, Bass’ book belongs on every reading list.
While parents and caregivers might discount Bass’ book for its focus on the fringe, and adopting an oft criticized vegetarian voice that can make meat eaters mad with its lofty condescension, not reading about Herb is doing kids a disservice: Children need to see themselves in their literature, and Bass’ book is appropriate for four to eight year olds and older readers, too, especially for the growing number of young readers with alternative lifestyles that separate them, sometimes painfully, from the mainstream milieu. Vegetarian lifestyles—where animal flesh is forsworn for political, spiritual, environmental, or health reasons—are on the rise in the United States and Europe, especially among teenagers and young girls. Although vegetarianism is growing, people who shun animal flesh are still as much an anomaly as an herbivorous dragon. Perhaps this is Bass’ point in creating a friendly, peaceful dragon who only eats vegetables and doesn’t mind being different. Bass’ message is powerful here—that difference is detested—referencing historical hatred of vegetarians, a skepticism still surviving today. Bass brings alternative lifestyles credence in a fast growing movement still viewed as subversive and strange.
Robin Roth is a journalist, educator, and activist. She is an English teacher and yearbook adviser at Palos Verdes Peninsula High School in Rolling Hills Estates, California. She holds a Master's degree in Literacy and Language Arts from Loyola Marymount University.
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