When I say "disturbing material" I don't just mean the really extreme stuff, like science fiction, which tends to have a lot of people being tortured, or Stephen King novels. Even children's books create painful sensations, we just don't think much of them because we have adjusted to the everyday disappointments and frustrations these explore. Adults are much less sensitive than children, but how did we get that way?
Let's go back to childhood for a moment and consider the kind of storylines fed to us by publishers and parents. How often has the little birthday girl's new dress been ruined? Or did the little boy steal his classmate's new pen? Or how many times has a mother put on a sad face when her child won't give her a taste of his ice cream (in spite of the fact she's trying to lose 5 pounds) to teach him to be considerate and giving? All these elicit a response from the young reader motivated by pain: the dissapointment of the ruined dress, envy and loss, shame at having been selfish. The purpose behind creating these negative feelings is both to teach how to avoid them in future, and to desensitize the child to minor dissapointments to make everyday life a bit easier.
Yet, there is something about that childish sensitivity that we value. We long to remember the innocence before the awakening and often do this is by creating a sympathetic character and drawing him or her through the painful process of disenchantment into maturity, reopening our own old wounds as we do so.
Rudyard Kipling creates just such a character in The Jungle Book. Mowgli is introduced as a baby into the wild jungle and raised by wolves. He is completely unspoiled, possessed of all the unaffected self confidence and sincerity of a child who has never learned the art of deception or felt the weight of uncertainty. His days are spent actively, learning the jungle law and exploring the wonders of his own abilities, physical and mental. Unfortunately his innocence causes him to make enemies without realizing it.
Mowgli has discovered that when he looks his adopted family memebers in the eye, they are forced to look away. Intrigued by his influence but not understanding its implications, he makes a game of it, as most children will exercise any newly discovered power far beyond the bounds of prudence. He does not know how to hide his qualities and so makes enemies for himself, as his friend Bagheera the panther points out:
"But why--but why should any wish to kill me?" said Mowgli.
"Look at me," said Bagheera. And Mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes. The big panther turned his head away in half a minute.
"That is why," he said, shifting his paw on the leaves. "Not even I can look thee between the eyes, and I was born among men, and I love thee, Little Brother. The others they hate thee because their eyes cannot meet thine; because thou art wise; because thou hast pulled out thorns from their feet--because thou art a man."
"I did not know these things," said Mowgli sullenly, and he frowned under his heavy black eyebrows.
"What is the Law of the Jungle? Strike first and then give tongue. By thy very carelessness they know that thou art a man.
However sincerely Mowgli may love his family, his relationship with them is tainted by their mistrust and he is forced to take a position of dominance when he would have willingly remained subject to the rule of the wolf pack. At a counsil meeting he asserts his role as an authoritative man among animals.
"Listen you!" he cried. "... Ye have told me so often tonight that I am a man (and indeed I would have been a wolf with you to my life's end) that I feel your words are true. So I do not call ye my brothers any more, but sag [dogs], as a man should. What ye will do, and what ye will not do, is not yours to say. That matter is with me;"
Mowgli is merciful to his unfaithful brothers but takes revenge on the tiger Shere Khan for turning them against him. He bears himself strongly through his speech, but having never known betrayal, he is deeply disturbed.
"Then something began to hurt Mowgli inside him, as he had never been hurt in his life before, and he caught his breath and sobbed, and the tears ran down his face.
"What is it? What is it?" he said. "I do not wish to leave the jungle, and I do not know what this is. Am I dying, Bagheera?"
"No, Little Brother. That is only tears such as men use," said Bagheera. "Now I know thou art a man, and a man's cub no longer... Let them fall, Mowgli. They are only tears." So Mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before."
There is a profound sweetness in this whole ordeal. Though Mowgli is forced to leave his family, the seperation emphasises the beauty of his affection for them. Perhaps it also helps the reader feel the innocence of their own childhood with a potency mere memory cannot provide.
arielpadilla
http://arielpadilla.deviantart.com/art/Mowgli-and-Bagheera-132252423
Let's go back to childhood for a moment and consider the kind of storylines fed to us by publishers and parents. How often has the little birthday girl's new dress been ruined? Or did the little boy steal his classmate's new pen? Or how many times has a mother put on a sad face when her child won't give her a taste of his ice cream (in spite of the fact she's trying to lose 5 pounds) to teach him to be considerate and giving? All these elicit a response from the young reader motivated by pain: the dissapointment of the ruined dress, envy and loss, shame at having been selfish. The purpose behind creating these negative feelings is both to teach how to avoid them in future, and to desensitize the child to minor dissapointments to make everyday life a bit easier.
Yet, there is something about that childish sensitivity that we value. We long to remember the innocence before the awakening and often do this is by creating a sympathetic character and drawing him or her through the painful process of disenchantment into maturity, reopening our own old wounds as we do so.
Rudyard Kipling creates just such a character in The Jungle Book. Mowgli is introduced as a baby into the wild jungle and raised by wolves. He is completely unspoiled, possessed of all the unaffected self confidence and sincerity of a child who has never learned the art of deception or felt the weight of uncertainty. His days are spent actively, learning the jungle law and exploring the wonders of his own abilities, physical and mental. Unfortunately his innocence causes him to make enemies without realizing it.
Mowgli has discovered that when he looks his adopted family memebers in the eye, they are forced to look away. Intrigued by his influence but not understanding its implications, he makes a game of it, as most children will exercise any newly discovered power far beyond the bounds of prudence. He does not know how to hide his qualities and so makes enemies for himself, as his friend Bagheera the panther points out:
"But why--but why should any wish to kill me?" said Mowgli.
"Look at me," said Bagheera. And Mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes. The big panther turned his head away in half a minute.
"That is why," he said, shifting his paw on the leaves. "Not even I can look thee between the eyes, and I was born among men, and I love thee, Little Brother. The others they hate thee because their eyes cannot meet thine; because thou art wise; because thou hast pulled out thorns from their feet--because thou art a man."
"I did not know these things," said Mowgli sullenly, and he frowned under his heavy black eyebrows.
"What is the Law of the Jungle? Strike first and then give tongue. By thy very carelessness they know that thou art a man.
However sincerely Mowgli may love his family, his relationship with them is tainted by their mistrust and he is forced to take a position of dominance when he would have willingly remained subject to the rule of the wolf pack. At a counsil meeting he asserts his role as an authoritative man among animals.
"Listen you!" he cried. "... Ye have told me so often tonight that I am a man (and indeed I would have been a wolf with you to my life's end) that I feel your words are true. So I do not call ye my brothers any more, but sag [dogs], as a man should. What ye will do, and what ye will not do, is not yours to say. That matter is with me;"
Mowgli is merciful to his unfaithful brothers but takes revenge on the tiger Shere Khan for turning them against him. He bears himself strongly through his speech, but having never known betrayal, he is deeply disturbed.
"Then something began to hurt Mowgli inside him, as he had never been hurt in his life before, and he caught his breath and sobbed, and the tears ran down his face.
"What is it? What is it?" he said. "I do not wish to leave the jungle, and I do not know what this is. Am I dying, Bagheera?"
"No, Little Brother. That is only tears such as men use," said Bagheera. "Now I know thou art a man, and a man's cub no longer... Let them fall, Mowgli. They are only tears." So Mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before."
There is a profound sweetness in this whole ordeal. Though Mowgli is forced to leave his family, the seperation emphasises the beauty of his affection for them. Perhaps it also helps the reader feel the innocence of their own childhood with a potency mere memory cannot provide.
arielpadilla
http://arielpadilla.deviantart.com/art/Mowgli-and-Bagheera-132252423
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