The first conversation I remember having with my son about ghosts or death in general was a few years ago, when he was about 5 years old. We were heading south on I-5 from Los Angeles at night. I was driving, and he was behind me, strapped into his safety seat. We weren’t talking at all. I thought he was sleeping. But he wasn’t – he was looking out the window. Suddenly, into the darkness, he said, “Father, will I die?”
I didn’t portray this conversation this way; I was unable to see him, in a car, driving on one of the ugliest stretches of road, between the accident-lawyer billboard and the outlet mall. It was coming a little sooner than I expected. I didn’t have any talking points yet. So I took a second and finally said, “Yeah, buddy, everyone dies.”
He waited for some time and moved ahead. “Will I be a ghost?” At this I did what I believe a lot of parents do when they don’t have their ducks in a row: I answered his question with another question. “Do you want to be a ghost?” He didn’t have to think for long. “No.”
What children know about ghosts, and at what age they know it, is unclear. They often become aware of death much in advance. And if you show a picture of a ghost to even a very young child, in my experience they can often tell you that it is actually a ghost. His idea of the relationship between the two subjects is less clear – if the ghost is meant to specifically represent a dead person or if it is, so far, just one of a plethora of creatures that seem to prompt horror stories.
But ghosts are different from other horror story characters. Vampires, werewolves, mummies, and to a lesser extent witches, have more or less set rules that we have set about what they look like, how they came to be, and what they can do. But when you present a ghost story to an audience, I believe their interest is not just in the possibility of getting a little scare. They are also curious about what you are going to do with this concept this time.
Cultural norms about ghosts are in constant flux. What the ghost is depends on the story and the reader.
In this respect, ghosts are no different from animals. An animal story is often in the business of moving the story forward as well as setting up the rules of the world. Do your animals talk? Do they live in houses and wear clothes? shirt And pants? Do they still eat each other? With Ghosts, you’re playing with a different set of sliders. Are they the kind of ghosts that can see and talk to living people, or are they more disembodied, or similar to recordings from the past?
Can they pick up things? Do they remember who they were before they died? Do they know they are dead? Do they resemble humans or is their appearance more vague?
That last question is particularly interesting for illustrated books. If you think about the above creepy artists that ghosts are often grouped with, they are not a gentle group to look at. Most of them have sharp or dangerous features stuck in places – like teeth, warts, long nails. Ghosts, at least of the common variety, are almost by definition visually bland. Their corners are rounded; Faded, translucent edges; Expressionless eyes.
And while most other creatures are actively stalking you, ghosts are often passive in a story. They are wandering in the fields, wandering in attics, staring out of windows. If they want something, it’s usually some kind of meaningful connection, or they have something they want to communicate – both quite related goals. They’re a way to tell a scary story, and always were for me, but they don’t necessarily have to be in your face. They can tell all about the beauty of death and darkness, but they can do it softly.
What I find particularly exciting about ghosts in children’s stories is what a blank canvas they were and remain to this day. You can show your young audience a ghost and, if you play it right, you can almost leave it there. The mere acceptance of the concept in the world of your story may be enough to capture attention. Any additional details from the author may distort what the audience is being told.
What picture books are particularly good at is opening the door to an idea or concept and letting the reader do the heavy lifting from there. to do Do the animals eat each other in this story? Perhaps. How bloody does it get? We’ll leave it up to you. Maybe it’s in a neat sip, or maybe it’s even messier than that. We’re just going to show you that on page 14 they are and on page 15 they are not. The rest is whatever your 4-year-old’s brain is ready to think about (and I can tell you, this varies widely from child to child).
Ghosts can be vehicles for the same type of projection, but instead of possessing how much animal blood you’re willing to shed, ghosts can possess what children know – and don’t know – about death. The freer the ghost, the more it can hold. The less expressive the ghost, the more freedom they have to see themselves in it.
Does anything happen after death? Well, what to do You Thinking? What are the rules of ghost? What would you like them to be? How lonely does a ghost get? How lonely have you become?
Picture books and stories for children are generally well-crafted for economy and clarity. This approach needs to accommodate the level of understanding and literacy of your intended audience. But this should not be confused with simplifying answers to questions, especially questions that adults have not yet answered themselves. More usefully, this process may be aimed at clarifying questions, prompting conversations with young readers after turning the last page.
Talking about death with a child quickly leads us to the conclusion we know, or at least the conclusion we can all agree on. But answer or not, many kids still like to think about the topic, just like anyone else does, and ghosts let even the most apprehensive kids do so without associating it with horror or aggression.
The ghosts will continue to quietly talk to you about death for as long as you want, even if all they’re doing on the page is staring out the window.
