The Carnegie Medal - A Golden Moment - by Dawn Finch

On June 22^nd in a ceremony at the British Library, the 2015 winner of the Carnegie Medal will be announced, along with the winner of the prestigious Kate Greenaway Award for distinguished illustration in a children's book. Whilst the Kate Greenaway Award carries some financial remuneration, the Carnegie Medal brings with it only a small donation for your chosen library - and yet the Medal remains incredibly desirable due to the status that it confers on the winning book.

The Carnegie Medal was established in 1936 in memory of the Scottish-born philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie. Carnegie was born into poverty in Dunfermline in 1835 and lived in a one-room weaver’s cottage where, through his uncle, he discovered the world of poetry and books. After his family emigrated to the United States, Carnegie and his family gradually improved the quality of their lives. The young Andrew Carnegie, through hard work, smart investments and significant risk-taking, eventually made his fortune and was once listed as one of the richest men in America.

With his wealth established, Carnegie then turned his thoughts to his love of literature. He became friends with many of the great authors of the day, including Mark Twain and the poet Matthew Arnold. He set his thoughts to philanthropy, and established educational trusts, public services and libraries across America, Canada and the United Kingdom. By the time of his death in 1919 he had given away millions of dollars and, after his death, his charitable trusts continued to carry out his wishes. Before he died he had established almost 3,000 libraries across the English speaking world inspired by his use of libraries as an impoverished young man. His experience of using a library as a child led him to resolve that "if ever wealth came to me that it should be used to establish free libraries."

The Carnegie Medal was established in 1936 in his memory and, before its creation, little thought was given to awarding respectability or status to books for children. The Carnegie Award was originally designed to encourage raised standards in children’s literature, and to improving the perception of the genre as a whole. Respected children’s librarians would be selected to judge the award, and it would represent a gold-standard of children’s literature.

The first Medal was awarded to Arthur Ransome for Pigeon Post, but at this stage it was considered more of a recognition of Ransome’s entire body of work than just for this one book. During the early years of the Medal, this was the perception of the judging panel; that they were awarding based on body of work rather than for individual books.

W.C Berwick-Sayers (Chief Librarian and campaigner for children’s literature) described the purpose of the Medal in 1937 as one that should be “… in keeping with the generally accepted standards of good behaviour and right thinking”

Aidan Chambers, in his book The Reluctant Reader (Oxford 1969) said of the Carnegie that it was “… unremarkable for anything in the slightest ‘questionable’ … [reflecting] an adult’s rather sentimental view of childhood … passionless, cautious … conservative” and this was considered to be largely the remit of the Medal for many decades.

Time passed, and the literary world became inundated with other awards for children and the Carnegie Medal was at risk of sliding into obscurity. It was respected in the literary and library communities, but was not receiving recognition in the wider world of publishing and it was felt that the Medal needed to be stronger, and broader. In the early 1990s the Medal was given a facelift to take into account the new broader spectrum of children’s books, and the changes in publishing for young people. The Medal looked to support and recognise all writing for young people, and no longer stuck to the antiquated (and vague) rules limiting the Medal to what was “right thinking” and “proper.”

The Medal has never been without controversy and criticism, but such is the nature of anything as subjective as a panel-judged award. The new guidelines opened the Medal up to a vast array of new fiction and, in 1993, the panel jumped feet-first into scandal by awarding the prize to Robert Swindells for his controversial book Stone Cold. With its chilling imagery of murder and homelessness, the book was received with anger and shock in many quarters. Many regarded this as the turning point for the Medal as the titles awarded the prize in subsequent years often represented the darker and more gritty edge of writing for young people. There was pressure on the Library Association (now CILIP) to split or change the prize, and even to remove all books for older or teenage readers, or to create a separate prize. The Association gave this serious consideration but, after much consultation, it was decided that this would create a prize that would in practice be “restrictive” and this was not desirable and would not fit the conditions of the Medal. The fear was that this would be seen to be akin to censoring books simply because they were darker or more challenging.

Controversy continued with outspoken Christian groups objecting to Phillip Pullman winning with Northern Lights in 1995 (a book that he described as his act of "killing God"). However, it was not until 1996 when the Medal was given to Melvin Burgess and his extraordinarily powerful book Junk, that the controversy really hit mainstream media. From the moment Junk made the shortlist, this story of a fourteen year old heroin user caused scandal and outrage. Reviews showed passion and hatred for the book in largely equal portions but, as is so often the way, the outraged had louder voices.

Other books on the shortlist for the 1996 Medal were also considered to be “too strong for children” and the Campaign for Real Education regarded the list as representing a decline in social values. They blamed the Library Association for putting dangerous and potentially damaging books into the hands of children. Other books on the list, such as Anne Fine’s Tulip Touch (about a child arsonist) and Elizabeth Laird’s Secret Friends (in which bullies die as a result of cosmetic surgery) were regarded by the Campaign as “inappropriate for children.”

Thankfully, librarians are a tough breed and are not easily bullied into complicity, they are also not easily swayed by what others perceive to be “inappropriate.” Despite noisy outrage and protest, the Medal was given to Burgess (deservedly so) and over the ensuing years the judging panel continued to take on the most powerful and demanding books written for children and young people. This continues today, and the panel never shy away from what they believe to be the very best in children’s literature.

Agnès Guyon, Chair of the 2015 CILIP Carnegie Medal judging panel, believes such dark themes make moments of hope and optimism shine even brighter: “There’s no doubt our writers and illustrators do not shy away from difficult, often painful imagery and themes. There is darkness here, illuminated by the bright lights of optimism and hope. These incredibly strong shortlists are not just a showcase of talent, but of the skilful ways our greatest writers and illustrators introduce young readers to big ideas, always instilling hope as they set their characters against the harshest challenges.”

Today the Carnegie Medal is seen as a prize that honours work for its quality and, whilst not everyone will agree with every decision made by the panel, with past winners we have an extraordinary list of books by some of the very finest writers for children. In fact many of the books that once caused a scandal (including Stone Cold) are now regarded as respected modern classics and are studied in schools. There is no doubt that the Medal will evolve and change as children’s literature moves forward, and that is how it will remain cutting-edge and influential. There is currently consultation ongoing about the distribution of the overall prize fund, and a well-received campaign launched by illustrator Sarah McIntyre has helped to trigger a welcome change to the way books are listed for both the Carnegie Medal, and its partner prize the KateGreenaway Award.

At its inception the Carnegie Medal sought to raise the standards and perception of children’s literature, and there is no doubt that it has gone a very long way towards achieving that. The Carnegie Medal remains the most respected award for writers of children’s and young people’s literature and, year by year, the judging panel shortlist books that are powerful, challenging and important. Often this still causes controversy, but for decades the judging panel have boldly carried this weight on their shoulders and, because of this, we have a prize that is unique in that it carries the respect of not only literary community, but of the wider publishing world and readers too.

Article written by Dawn Finch (www.dawnfinch.com)

Vice President CILIP

Children’s writer and librarian

CWIG Committee Member

The CILIP Carnegie Medal 2015 shortlist in full below.... click on the image to visit the CKG pages

The winners for both the CILIP Carnegie Medal and the CILIP Kate Greenaway Medal will be announced on Monday 22^nd June at a lunchtime ceremony at the British Library in London. The winners will receive £500 worth of books to donate to their local library and the coveted golden Medal.

Carnegie Medal shortlisted books (in alphabetical order of authors)

When Mr Dog Bites by Brian Conaghan (Bloomsbury)

Apple and Rain by Sarah Crossan (Bloomsbury)

Tinder by Sally Gardner (author) and David Roberts (Illustrator) (Orion Children’s Books)

Cuckoo Song by Frances Hardinge (Macmillan Children’s Books)

The Fastest Boy in the World by Elizabeth Laird (Macmillan Children’s Books)

Buffalo Soldier by Tanya Landman (Walker Books)

The Middle of Nowhere by Geraldine McCaughrean (Usborne Books)

More Than This by Patrick Ness (Walker Books)

For full book and author details (and for more details about the partner award for picture books – the Kate Greenaway Award) visit the CKG website here

New Adult or Young Adult?

Open Book, Radio Four’s programme about all matters literary turned its attention to New Adult fiction last week. Was it, asked presenter Mariella Frostrup, just a marketing ploy? Or is there a need for a bridge between Young Adult fiction and Adult fiction?

Cue an intelligent and interesting  discussion between journalist Caroline Sanderson, writer Liz Bankes and editor Emily Thomas, which nonetheless had me grinding my teeth and throwing things at the radio.

It seems to me that the title New Adult could mean books about older teens  moving from the world of school, homework and exams into the adult world of further education, employment, unemployment, sex and parenthood.  These books already exist and are labelled Young Adult.  A New Adult label isn’t therefore strictly necessary but could serve as a useful label to identify books for and about older teens.  It might help them crossover into an adult market. It might encourage publishers and booksellers to see older teen books as a genre worth investment, and keep older teens interested in looking at the teen shelves in book shops. It could, above all, be a useful way of marketing e-books to older teen readers.

New Adult could be this...

..but is actually this

Recent books that might fit into that sort of New Adult category might include Lydia Syson’s A World Between Us – three young people caught up in the Spanish Civil War,  working as a nurse, a journalist, and a printer turned soldier.  Or Malorie Blackman’s Boys Don’t Cry, about a boy whose plans to go to university are hijacked by becoming a father. Helen Grant, Melvin Burgess, Meg Rosoff ,  Sarra Manning, Mal Peet, Kevin Brooks  and many other UKYA authors often write about older teens.  These books are labelled YA or teen fiction, they are shelved as such, they are received with enthusiasm by the supposed gatekeeper. Publishers publish them, and teachers and librarians are not scared of  coming of age books.  On the contrary, they often favour them over  books aimed at younger children -  just take a look at most Carnegie shortlists.

He's 18, having sex, bringing up a child. New or Young Adult?

My next book, Salvage, has two narrators. One is Aidan, 18, who is living with an older girlfriend, Holly and her two-year-old son, Finn.  Is Aidan a Young Adult or a New Adult?  His sister Cass, the other narrator, is 16 and embarking on her first sexual relationship. Is she Young Adult or New Adult?

Unfortunately New Adult has stopped being a useful label for my books and the books of the authors mentioned above, because New Adult has come to mean ‘books about teenagers having sex, generally originally self-published, and picked up by publishers who want a slice of the action.’ Unlike most YA authors writing about sex, they include an element of soft porn (generally the softest of soft porn, almost always from a female point of view, with far more about 'panties' than throbbing or thrusting Men's Bits).  The ‘Adult’ has taken over from the ‘New’.  The quality of writing isn’t great in any of these books that I’ve read, and the sex is often boring (one New Adult book that I attempted to read seemed to have been written by someone who’d never had sex in her life, so was hopelessly vague and boring, others are just a bit tacky and embarrassing). In a matter of months New Adult has come to mean ‘rubbishy’  and ‘put that label on my books and I will kill you’ for most authors writing books about new adults.

Having said that, I think that these New Adult books are not a bad thing. Porn is generally produced by men, for men, and it’s surely good for girls to have access to their own brand, written by women. These books do address emotional issues around sex, and they generally feature interesting  and engaging characters.  They may not engage me, but I’m not their target market. If I were 16 and in possession of an e-reader, I think I’d love them.  As Malorie Blackman said recently, books are a great place for children to learn about sex.  The 'New Adult' romances, or -  to use a word invented and only used by marketing managers - 'steamies', are part of that process.

For the last few weeks I’ve been taking my daughter to university open days. I’ve sat in lecture theatres full of 17 and 18 year olds and their parents, learning about the next stage of their lives. What will they study, how will they find jobs, where will they live, how will they make friends?  I’ve had fascinating conversations with my daughter about her hopes and plans for the future, watched as she was inspired, reassured and challenged by visions of her future. I'd love to have more books to suggest to her which focus on the transition from school to adult life, which tell you what it's like to unpack your suitcase on the first day of university (and I don't mean Charles Ryder at Oxford).

New adulthood is one of the most interesting and important times of anyone’s life. It  offers writers many exciting possibilities.  Right now, though, I’d rather steer clear of the New Adult label.

Y.A. at Hay - Celia Rees

I was recently at the Hay Festival, in conversation with Melvin Burgess and Daniel Hahn, talking about Young Adult fiction and our novels, This is Not Forgiveness and Kill All Enemies.

Daniel Hahn, Melvin Burgess, Celia Rees 

The discussion was interesting (I hope for the audience, too) and wide ranging. At one point, Daniel asked us if there was anything that we thought we could not write about, any taboo subjects, any darkness too impenetrable? I found myself giving the stock Y.A. writer's answer about leaving the reader with hope, etc., etc.. Melvin disagreed. This livened the discussion considerably, and his response gave me cause to pause and food for thought. He outlined a thesis which took me right back to where I began as a YA writer and also made me think about how far we have travelled since then but how little ground we had gained. 

It is an accepted shibboleth ( like the one about 'hope') that ‘at one time’ there ‘wasn’t much written for teenagers’, ‘nothing available for them’.Of course, this is not true. Teenagers have always found things to read, books and authors they felt comfortable with, even if those books were not written specifically with them in mind. Books like George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm, William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies, Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mocking Bird, J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and The Lottery. And then there are the sic-fi/dystopian fiction writers: Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, John Wyndam’s The Day of the Triffids and The Chrysalids, J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World and Empire of the Sun, John Christopher’s The Trouble with Grass.

Quite a considerable canon. I read a lot of these books when I was a teenager, back in a time when novels for teens were not supposed to exist. I don’t remember feeling deprived, or thinking I’d have to stop reading because there was ‘nothing for me’. I thoroughly enjoyed the books I discovered on the adult shelves of the library, finding them myself, or being directed to them by friends who liked the same books I did. Reading these books was a rite of passage. I found my mind stretched, my understanding deepened, my assumptions questioned and challenged, my imagination

 fired. They weren’t writing for me particularly, but that didn’t matter, they were connecting with me on all sorts of different levels.

Melvin’s argument was that because these writers recognised no limits, there are no limits. I found myself agreeing with him and thinking that these books and these writers should be our benchmark. Perhaps we have compromised too far. In creating a specific Teen/Y.A. Lit. (although I still think that is important) we’ve wandered away from these writers who had the power to appeal to adults and teenagers alike. We have compromised, we’ve bowdlerised. We’ve listened to outside voices: gatekeepers telling us what is acceptable and unacceptable; Focus Groups and Target Readers; Publishers who tell us what the market wants, what it will tolerate.

Compare some of the books and authors I’ve cited, especially in Gothic, Dystopian and Science Fiction, with what is on offer at the moment in these genre, and you will see exactly what I mean. Where is the depth and breadth of the vision, the resonance and relevance, the imaginative reach, the complexity of the realised worlds, the quality and power of the writing? It is a salutary lesson. Of course, teen readers can go and read these books, and they should, but that is not the point. It is not good enough to mine them, to take from them, we should be producing books that bear comparison.

Creativity is a strange thing. Those books that I read when I was a teenager challenged me to think, fired my imagination, introduced me to ideas, and opened me up to possibilities. Maybe that experience is what led me to want to write for teenagers. True, or not, I’m thinking about going back. At least I’ll be guaranteed a damn good read!

I’m taking a break from blogging for ABBA but I’ve been proud to be part of the blog and to have seen it go from strength to strength. I’ll certainly be visiting regularly in the future to read and to comment.

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