Children and their books — Background and Themes

Imagination as the Creative Power

Penniman places imagination at the center of early education, calling it “the creative power of the mind which gives life to all work.” He argues that without it, Newton would not have found gravitation nor Columbus discovered America. This is not a vague endorsement of fantasy; he ties imagination directly to intellectual achievement. To cultivate it, he advises adults to help children “image what he has read”—for example, by pretending to sail with Columbus, describing “angry faces and angry waves.” The excerpt includes a short poem about a child playing Indian scout with a toy gun, illustrating how make-believe can be grounded in action. Penniman warns, however, that ghost stories and supernatural tales can harm imaginative children, a caution that reveals his belief that imagination must be directed, not indulged.

The Danger of Inane Trash

Penniman is blunt about the quality of children’s reading material. He claims that “the market is flooded with books ranging from the trivial to the harmful” and that many children “stultify their minds” with quantity over quality. He cites librarian Caroline M. Hewins, who estimated that ninety out of one hundred public-school children read only simple stories, and only one in a hundred has a natural love of great literature. Penniman’s own voice is equally sharp: he condemns books in which children die, are cruelly treated, or offer advice to elders. His concern is not just aesthetic but moral—he believes that forming an impression on “the white page of the child’s mind” is a grave responsibility, and that making sin attractive in a book has far-reaching consequences.

Boys, Girls, and the Books They Need

Penniman draws a sharp distinction between what boys and girls should read. Boys, he says, read for deeds, not descriptions; they identify with a central hero and want stories they can act out. He recommends Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Tom Brown, and Captains Courageous as models of “moral worth expressed through physical activity.” Girls, by contrast, should read books that “exalt the sweet home virtues.” He warns against cheap society stories that give “false ideas of life” and encourage selfishness. This gendered advice reflects early twentieth-century norms, but it also shows Penniman’s practical bent: he wants books that match a child’s developmental stage and interests, not a one-size-fits-all curriculum.

Action Over Precept

Penniman ends his argument with a strong emphasis on action. He quotes Herbert Spencer: “Not by precept… but only through action… can a moral habit be formed.” He also cites Edward Thring, who said that boys become brave not by being told to be so, but by being “nurtured in a brave and hardy way.” Penniman applies this to reading: after a child is interested in a book’s deeds, the adult should have him “do something of a similar character” to impress the lesson. This is not a passive reading guide; it is a call for active, embodied learning. The book itself is a manual for parents and teachers, urging them to guide children toward literature that can be lived, not just consumed.

Penniman’s voice is that of a concerned educator, not a literary critic. He writes for adults who select children’s books, and his advice is concrete: avoid fear-inducing stories, choose classics over thrillers, and match books to a child’s developmental stage. Readers should expect a prescriptive tone and a focus on moral formation rather than aesthetic appreciation. The book is a period piece, but its core argument—that reading shapes character and that adults must choose wisely—remains relevant.