At the moment I’m on a Victorian literature learning bender and as tends to be the case when you’ve already learned a fair amount on a subject I’ve been looking into the smaller details, going further afield to writers of other countries, looking at lesser-known writers who wrote for different ages.

And there they were – a list of Victorian children’s (chapter books) writers. And hold up a moment, go back. I recognised all of them.

To sum it up, all the children’s writers listed were ones I’d read in my childhood. It was a sudden realisation and please feel free to laugh because I’ve been reading and studying literature for, what is it, six years now, but have only just worked it out – my parents tricked me into reading classic books.

I use the word ‘tricked’ loosely because in fact I really love the idea. I can see in it my classics-loving father and my you-can-never-have-too-many-books-oh-dear-what-have-I-done mother, introducing me to the canon without any fanfare.

What’s interesting is the next thought I had. These books constituted gifts from my parents and extended family, books I’d not specifically asked for. And these I read at home; my choices at school were modern. It’s been a revelation – during a certain period of my childhood I finished very few books. I’ve often felt embarrassed by this. Now I can correlate the period with those books; it was the classical literature I didn’t finish.

Not all – I do remember finishing Little Women and I think I finished Pollyanna… or at least I finished the film. But Black Beauty, Heidi, What Katy Did? No. I remember finding them all very charming, though I wouldn’t have used that word then, but looking back with the hindsight and knowledge I have now I can see that the differences in culture and so on made these books less appealing. They were lovely and somewhat utopian but they didn’t represent my experience of life.

This is starting to sound as though it’s in line with my feelings as to the appropriateness of classics at exam level so I’ll say now that it’s not. Whilst I think classics at school are classics before their time, children’s books are obviously read at the right age, it’s just that time has moved on since their release date. Whereas a GCSE student will go on to have the experiences and knowledge to appreciate the Victorian adult canon, a children’s book naturally comes without the requirement to live first. It’s simply a sad fact that due to the progression of time a person may enjoy Victorian children’s literature more as an adult.

To spin off this subject I distinctly remember my editions of Black Beauty and Heidi included the word ‘unabridged’. Even then I was very happy to hear from my mother that this meant it was the complete text – I’ve always been someone who prefers a slow trudge if it means reading a book as it was written. What intrigues me about this is that abridged books are often children’s books. Adult books are abridged for children and recently there’s even been the publication of classics as board books for toddlers, told in twelve words (it’s quite fascinating, see here if you’re interested). But these are adult books made accessible for children – what exactly is the point of abridging a book that was written for children in the first place?

Of course there’s a reason; I suppose it’s to counteract that problem I had – the inability to relate. Children’s books don’t tend to be violent and whilst culture has changed as the years have gone by, Victorian children’s books were hardly gruesome. It’s an interesting one.

As for myself I think I’m going to try and incorporate those old books into my present reading.

Did you read Victorian chapter books during your childhood, Lewis Carroll aside? What do you think of the abridgement of children’s books?