Why Children's Books Matter in a Digital World

By Elaine Griffin

“You can’t get a child hooked on reading when there is an alternative pastime that will eat their attention like a wolf,” writes Katherine Rundell in her brilliant essay “Why Children’s Books?” which appeared in a recent issue of the “London Review of Books.” 

In her essay, Rundell suggests that because children’s books are written for people who cannot work or vote, they offer an alternative vision of the good life: A life that isn’t tied to a phone or based on acquiring material possessions but rather on acquiring a set of sustaining values like courage, kindness, and generosity. Rundell’s belief in the power of children’s literature is not just theoretical. It’s grounded in her own prolific success as a best-selling author for young readers. 

More on that in a minute.

First, did I mention that Rundell—who is all of 38—is also a fellow at Oxford University, where she teaches Renaissance poetry? Or that she has written a highly acclaimed, award-winning book on the poet John Donne? And a book showcasing the wonder of various animals teetering toward extinction? Or that she’s done all of this while writing several children’s books in her “spare” time?

At this year’s British Book Awards, Rundell won Book of the Year for the fantasy novel “Impossible Creatures,” her most recent children’s book. She was also named Britain’s Author of the Year; the only other children’s authors to win this prize are Philip Pullman and J.K. Rowling. These awards underscore others’ appreciation for the transformative stories baked into Rundell’s children’s books—written for vulnerable young readers at that heartbreaking time in their lives when they’re being pulled away from books and into the more narrow and boring world of their phones. 

As Rundell makes clear in her essays and in her own amazing writing for young people, children’s books can serve as a strong counterbalance to social media, which promotes performance and competition over deeper, more genuine values. But it’s difficult to persuade children to reject screens in favor of books when corporate tech giants are deliberately designing their devices and platforms to be as addictive as any other toxic drug. 

Adolescents are a particularly captive audience because they are at an age when FOMO (fear of missing out) tempts them to spend hours a day wasting time on their phones: watching TikTok influencers, creating IG reels on Instagram, or simply texting friends. Maintaining digital boundaries can be even harder for kids in the summer because their phones are not collected as they are during the school day, and they aren’t seeing their friends in person at school.

Adults’ concern over where children place their attention and what they value is not new. In her essay, Rundell cites Plato’s concern in “The Republic:” “Shall we carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up?” Plato’s question has taken on new urgency in our current digital age.

So how do we help children form enduring values in the current environment, which often discourages reflection? 

One way is by giving them better stories—ones that enrich rather than simply distract the mind. Behavioral psychologists have long known that it is much easier to eliminate a behavior by replacing it with another behavior. Putting a book in your child’s hands is a meaningful alternative to a smartphone. I repeat: Putting a book in your child’s hands is a meaningful alternative to a smartphone.

Reading develops empathy, the imagination, and, most important, a sense of wonder at the astonishing world around us. Rundell writes, “active, informed, iron-willed wonder is a skill, not a gift: you have to work at it. And you cannot remain in awe of that which is familiar, so the only way to maintain wonder is to learn: learn, and keep learning.” Children’s books don’t just replace screen time; they also actively develop qualities that screens suppress, including the sense of wonder and the habit of deep learning.

How do books do this? 

By immersing young readers in worlds where the imagination is limitless. By creating worlds where the impossible is possible. A hobbit can triumph in the face of the darkest forces; a spider can save the life of a friend; and a young wizard can harness magic to stand up for what’s right. As we grow older, striving in often utilitarian ways for knowledge to fuel our careers, we forget that wonder and awe feed our souls. 

In a recent “New Yorker” profile on Rundell, Kathryn Schulz writes, “Rundell’s child heroes are also their own kind of endangered species: young people who slip the bonds of adult supervision, heading out all alone to do things that would make even the most committed of today’s free-range parents call 911.” 

Rundell’s novels feature children who are wild and strong willed. In “Cartwheeling in Thunderstorms,” Wilhelmina is sent from her home in Zimbabwe (where Rundell lived as a child) to an English boarding school, where she runs aways and seeks sanctuary in a zoo. In “Rooftoppers,” an orphan goes in search of her mother and takes up with a group of children who live on the rooftops of Paris. In “The Good Thieves,” a girl seeks revenge on behalf of her grandfather by enlisting the help of circus performers and a pickpocket. 

Schulz reflects that “all these characters find themselves in—or, just as often, place themselves in—mortal danger, generally to save something important: their freedom, their lives, someone they love.” Yes, orphans, runaways, and misfits are cliche tropes in children’s fiction at this point. But Rundell revels in these tropes; she knows her audience is children who may be encountering these tropes for the very first time. Rundell simultaneously rejects the popular notion that kids need to see themselves in obvious ways within books in order to find their voice and realize their agency. She trusts that children can make the imaginative leap necessary to see what they have in common with animals, rooftoppers, and even pickpockets. You don’t need to be a wizard to fall in love with Harry and Hermione. 

In a short but compelling book entitled “Why You Should Read Children's Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise” (2019), Rundell builds upon W.H. Auden’s insight about children’s books: “There are good books which are only for adults, because their comprehension presupposes adult experiences, but there are no good books which are only for children.” Auden was talking about children’s books that stand the test of time: those books that become classics because they contain profound and sustaining truths. 

I encourage you to revisit the worlds of C.S. Lewis’s Narnia, Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea, or J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth as an adult; better yet, visit them together with your children. These imagined places still have much to teach us about wonder, wisdom, and what it means to be human. 

Rundell herself ventures into this fantastical world with “Impossible Creatures,” a book that contains magical animals like griffins, mermaids, and centaurs—as well as magical humans. Including a girl who can fly. Writing this prize-winning fantasy novel puts Rundell in the company of writers like C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carroll, and J.R.R Tolkein, all of whom were both children’s writers as well as leading intellectuals at Oxford. 

In the final paragraph of “Why You Should Read Children's Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise,” Rundell urges her adult readers—that would be you, reading this essay—to “Go to children’s fiction to see the world with double eyes: your own, and those of your childhood self.” 

My challenge to you this summer: Follow Rundell’s call to action.

This summer, consider putting your phone down and picking up a children’s book. Read a classic by Le Guin or check out a recent novel by Rundell. And challenge your children to do the same. 

Children’s books are not just a quiet escape from the caterwauling noise of our deafening digital culture, although leaving this toxicity behind is reason enough to enter such magical kingdoms. There’s much more to them. Children’s books—and reading them—are also bold acts of resistance against that world. In these stories, young readers will not only find fantasy, magic, and mischief. They will also find the building blocks of character, curiosity, and courage. And by joining them in that reading, you just might rediscover or strengthen these latent qualities within yourself.

To get you started before heading off to your favorite bookstore or library, here’s a chronologically arranged list of Rundell’s children’s books, with a short synopsis of each. All of these novels are middle-grade (ages 8-12) with the exception of “Impossible Creatures,” which is pitched for older kids (ages 10-14). However, in the spirit of this article, I encourage you to ignore the age recommendations and dive into the books that capture your imagination.

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“Cartwheeling in Thunderstorms” (2011)

Age Range: 8–12
Wilhelmina (Will) Silver grew up in Zimbabwe living like a wildcat, playing and often sleeping outdoors. But when Will's father dies, she is shipped off to boarding school in England. The conformity required by the school and the cruelty of the other girls crushes Will’s free spirit. Will runs away and on that journey discovers how to draw upon her bravery to cope with her new urban life. 

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“Rooftoppers” (2013)

Age Range: 9–12
Sophie survives a shipwreck by floating in a cello case. She is rescued by a scholarly bachelor who raises her to think for herself and to believe in the impossible. When the Welfare Agency threatens to send Sophie to an orphanage, she sets off for Paris in search of her mother, who she’s always believed had survived the shipwreck. Sophie enlists a group of rooftoppers—orphaned children who live on the rooftops of Paris—to help her find her mother. This novel was inspired by Rundell’s undergraduate pastime of walking on the roofs of Oxford University with her friends. No, really. She did.

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“The Wolf Wilder” (2015)

Age Range: 9–12
In snowy, pre-revolutionary Russia, Feodora (Feo) and her mother work as wolf wilders—a profession in which they turn tame wolves back into wild ones. When the government decides that all wolves must be killed, Feo’s mom stands up against it and is locked up in St. Petersburg. Feo journeys across the frozen land with a shy ballet dancer, some plucky kids, and a pack of wolves to fight back. 

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“The Explorer” (2017)

Age Range: 9–12
When Fred, Con, Lila and Max’s plane falls out of the sky, they find themselves stranded in the Amazon rainforest. They find a map and decide to follow it to the X. This journey leads to a lost city and to another human inhabitant who changes everything. The jungle is so present in the story that it functions as an additional character. When this book won the 2017 Costa Book Award in the Children’s Book category, Rundell spoke about the book's environmental themes and her research—which involved eating canned tarantulas! (Here’s the place for me to highlight a 2022 Rundell book for adults, which I briefly referred to above: “Vanishing Treasures: A Bestiary of Extraordinary Endangered Creatures.” The title says it all. It’s wonderful.)  

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“The Good Thieves” (2019)

Age Range: 9–11
When Vita’s grandfather’s ancestral home is stolen by a con-man, Vita sets out to make things right. From the first line, we know Vita is a fighter: “Vita set her jaw and nodded at the city in greeting, as a boxer greets an opponent before a fight.” A pickpocket, an acrobat, and a horse whisperer contribute their skills to help Vita take on the villains that cheated her family. Set against the backdrop of 1920s Manhattan, this fast-paced novel captures the contrast between the Big Apple’s bright nightlife and its shadowy undercurrent of corruption. Some things never change.

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“Impossible Creatures” (2023)

Age Range: 10–14
When Christopher saves a baby griffin from drowning, he discovers the Archipelago, a hidden chain of islands where mythical creatures like dragons and mermaids still exist. That same day he meets Mal, a girl who can fly. When creatures start dying, they realize that the magic keeping these creatures alive, known as the glimourie, is fading away. Perhaps it is being taken for evil purposes? If the Archipelago can be saved, Christopher and Mal will have to do it themselves.

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About Elaine Griffin:

Elaine Griffin has worked at University School of Milwaukee since 1998, serving as the head of Middle School since 2019. Previously, she served as the assistant head of Upper School and taught Upper School English. She has both a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree in English, and served as the president of the Whitefish Bay Library.