[Feature: New Theory of Reading] <Reading Landscapes> Sharing the "Joy of Books" with Children / Kyoko Matsuoka

2020/05/11

It was 1960 when I graduated from the Department of Library Science at the Juku. That was already 60 years ago. I remember the day I walked up the slope with the post office on the right, entered through the Maboroshi no Mon, and suddenly burst into the Department of Library Science office at the back of the old wooden building (Building No. 5) that used to be the Keio Gaigo school building, asking, "Can I study children's literature here?" Looking back, it is strange that in my early 20s, when I was rather indecisive, I took such action based only on a small newspaper advertisement for student recruitment. But one could say that everything started from there.

Having spent my childhood without knowing what a library was, it was during my two years in the Department of Library Science that I was introduced to the existence of public libraries and taught that there was a profession called a children's librarian, which involved children and the books I loved so much. From the moment my heart raced at the thought that this was exactly what I wanted to do until today, I have moved through various fields of activity—starting with public libraries, then a home library in my own house, and finally a private library as a corporate organization. How fortunate I have been to remain in the work of sharing the joy of books with children throughout it all.

Regrettably, because I embarked on the reckless adventure of starting a private library, the opportunities to interact directly with children have decreased year by year. In their place, the work of appealing to adults about the importance of children's reading has increased. For many years now, I have continued to go out and give talks whenever requested at school PTAs, nursery school parents' associations, and gatherings of people involved in children's libraries and librarians.

Children learn how to operate a TV remote or fiddle with a smartphone without being taught, but the joy of books does not become a child's own unless an adult nearby acts as an intermediary. Therefore, wherever I go, I have made the request: please read picture books to young children at home, and please continue to read books to children even after they have learned to read characters. I do this because it is enjoyable for the child and the surest path toward reading.

However, when dealing with adults, especially those in education, that alone is not enough; one must explain the benefits of children reading books. For instance: it nurtures the imagination. It builds language skills. It increases knowledge and broadens horizons. It deepens the understanding of people and society. It fosters an attitude of thinking deeply without being swept away by superficial information. It provides emotional stability by finding someone who understands them within a book. If a reading habit is established, they gain the means to continue learning throughout their lives. They can find friends and mentors who transcend time and space within books. It is an easy, inexpensive, and yet indispensable joy for a rich life, and so on.

These are all true, and I can cite countless examples to prove them. While I have continued to persuade people earnestly by drawing examples from my surroundings and from books, deep in my heart, I have always felt a bit uneasy about the phrasing "because there are such-and-such good benefits." This is because if I were asked, "Then, if there are no benefits, is it okay not to read books?" or "Did you read books because there were benefits?" I feel the answer is no.

Having worked for a long time in the job of recommending books to children, what I think now is that, in my case, the primary motivation for recommending a book is not because it has good effects, but rather the simple and natural feeling of wanting the other person to experience the joy I have experienced, if possible.

That mysterious atmosphere I felt as a young child when I was immersed in a book and traveling through worlds not of this earth; the tension of my hands sweating during adventures that could never happen to me; the pleasure of mental fog clearing through words; the emotion of encountering something beautiful and noble, though I didn't quite understand it... those many experiences, which can only be summed up in one word as "joy," are the real reason I read books, and ultimately, they generated the energy that pushed my work forward.

Today, children's lives have become surprisingly busy compared to the past, and there are many competitors vying for that small amount of leisure time against books. There are also an increasing number of parents who lack the leeway to gently watch over their children's growth. In such an environment, it is not easy to get children to know the joy of reading.

As a children's librarian, I must work very hard, but perhaps it is because I have grown older that I no longer feel like frantically appealing for the benefits of reading. I only hope to quietly but firmly convey to the children who happen to come around me, even if it is just one child, that "I (・) had fun reading books"—while praying that the child will find the same joy.

However, my belief remains unchanged that a society cannot maintain a healthy balance unless it contains a certain percentage of people who read books, even if the number is small.