I had a bit of a shock while researching this blog post. The post is about children’s books that address a condition often called selective mutism. In reading about it, I realized that I had the condition as a child.
Selective mutism is a condition in which a person feels unable to speak at work, in school, or in certain social situations, while being able to speak normally with family members or friends. Traumatic mutism, in which a person stops speaking completely following a traumatic event, is a separate condition that is often lumped together with selective mutism.
Selective mutism and traumatic mutism aren’t new conditions. The condition was first labeled “aphasia voluntaria” by a German physician in 1877. It was later called “elective mutism” because physicians believed children who had it were simply being stubborn or seeking attention. It is now recognized a type of anxiety disorder.
When I was a child, I was a chatterbox at home, and I was able to speak in class, but with my peers, I talked only with those I trusted. With adult authority figures, I clammed up completely. I was labeled as “shy,” and this was even considered “cute” or “sweet” by some adults. It wasn’t cute. It often left me frustrated and bewildered.
Selective mutism is much more well known now than it was when I was a child. It can be treated in childhood and in adulthood, although it must first be recognized for what it is. Professional treatment is not universally available, and self-help is sometimes the only option. That’s where books can come to the rescue.
The books described below all involve characters who experience selective mutism.
A Dog Called Homeless
By Sarah Lean
When A Dog Called Homeless begins, Cally Louise Fisher hasn’t spoken for thirty-one days. She chose to stop speaking as part of a school fundraising competition, but once she stopped speaking, she decided not to start again.
Cally’s selective mutism begins a year after her mother was killed in an auto accident. While visiting her mother’s grave with relatives, she sees her mother watching, but none of the adults believe her. They do believe in the large wolfhound that begins appearing at school and a local park, but the adults consider the dog a nuisance. Cally believes the dog has something to do with her mother, as they often appear together. The dog is often with a homeless man named Jed, and Cally names the dog Homeless.
A Dog Called Homeless is told in Cally’s first-person voice, and her grief over her mother’s death is almost palpable. To me, and I suspect to many young readers, her decision to stop speaking seems like a reasonable response under the circumstances. Her father refuses to talk about her mother, and she’s surrounded by people too obtuse to see the pain she’s suffering. Why should she bother talking to them when they refuse to hear her?
Cally’s life is in upheaval in other ways as well. For financial reasons, the family must move from their beloved house, which is filled with memories of her mother. When she stops speaking, her classmates begin to shun her. The school wants her to see a specialist to fix whatever her problem is.
Cally finds solace in a new friend, a boy named Sam who is blind and nearly deaf. She learns to fingerspell in his hand to communicate, which she doesn’t consider the same as speaking. With Sam, Cally is able to talk about whether she is really seeing her mother, what happens to people when they die, and other topics that no one else is willing to discuss. Cally also receives help from the specialist, who turns out not to be the evil witch Cally was expecting.
Many reviewers have pointed out that the book’s ending ties up all the plot threads a little too neatly, but the story is so heartwarming that I’m more than willing to forgive it for that. My father died when I was ten, and I can say that the book’s exploration of a child’s experience of grief is accurate and true. Another plus is that the book features one of the most lovable dogs in children’s literature!
You can learn more about Sarah Lean here.
A Certain Small Shepherd
By Rebecca Caudill
Illustrated by William Pène du Bois
A Certain Small Shepherd begins as a boy named Jamie is born during a freak storm in November, “when Line Fork Creek froze solid in its winding bed” and the wind “wailed like a banshee in the chimney.” Jamie’s mother died that night. Although Jamie ate and slept and grew and cut teeth, he did not talk.
Jamie is able to get what he needs by pointing, but he is often frustrated by his inability to communicate. His father involves him in planting corn and other chores and even sends him to school when the time comes. Jamie never talks at school, but he listens and learns.
When it’s time for the annual Christmas play at the little church near Jamie’s home, the teacher gives Jamie the role of a shepherd. He takes the role so seriously that his father has a robe of many colors made for him and carves a tree branch into a shepherd’s crook.
Jamie is heartbroken when the Christmas play is cancelled because of a record-breaking snowstorm. On Christmas Eve, the family is startled by the appearance of a man and woman struggling through the snow to their house. They had been turned away at every other house along their way. The couple ask if they can sleep in the barn, but Jamie’s father takes them to the church, which has a coal stove.
The next morning, Jamie’s father takes Jamie and his sisters through the snow to the church, where they learn that the woman has given birth to a child. Jamie races home to get his robe and crook. He also takes the orange and the dime from his Christmas stocking, which he presents to the woman and her baby. Then comes the true Christmas miracle.
Although A Certain Small Shepherd was published in 1965, it is still as touching and altogether relevant. It also provides a glimpse into life in the Appalachian mountains during author Rebecca Caudill’s childhood. William Pène du Bois’s illustrations seem simple compared to children’s books of today, but they are charming and effective.
An interesting point that isn’t stated outright in the text: The couple are shown in the illustrations as having dark skin. It is implied that they were refused shelter because of this, which makes the story’s denouement even more powerful.
You can learn more about Rebecca Caudill here. More information about William Pène du Bois here.
The Magical Imperfect
By Chris Baron
In The Magical Imperfect, Chris Baron somehow managed to take selective mutism, immigration, eczema, an earthquake, Golems, and the World Series and combine them into something far greater than the sum of the parts. The fact that he did it in novel-in-verse form makes his accomplishment even more amazing.
Etan stopped speaking almost completely when his mother was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. His grandfather is a Polish refugee for whom Judaism is important, but Etan’s father has been drawing away from Judaism and his own father. Etan’s father is also a bit obsessed with the idea that the Giants might win the World Series that year. Because his father spends a lot of time on construction jobs, Etan spends his afternoons helping his grandfather in his jewelry repair shop or running errands for neighbors in their close-knit community.
On an errand one day, Etan meets Malia, a girl known as The Creature to Etan’s classmates because of the severe eczema that has covered her skin with an itchy, scaly rash. Etan is a talented artist, Malia is a talented singer, and the two quickly form a bond that isn’t dependent on words. They share a connection in that Malia’s grandmother, who was a refugee from the Philippines, welcomed Etan’s grandparents into the community after they escaped from Prague during World War II.
Malia doesn’t pressure Etan to start speaking, but Etan becomes intrigued by the idea of using his grandfather’s special clay to heal Malia’s eczema. The clay was said to have been used long ago to create a Golem that protected Jewish people. Etan hopes that Malia can be cured in time to perform in the town’s talent show.
All of the above gets shaken, quite literally, by the Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989.
The Magical Imperfect works in part because the story is told in verse form. Every word has obviously been carefully chosen and woven into lyrical lines that go straight to the heart of the matter. For example, this is how Etan describes his selective mutism as it is beginning to subside:
Sometimes I imagine
that the words in my mind
fall into my belly,
swim in my dark, empty insides.
But lately, even the dark places
seem to be filling with enough light.
My words can’t hide anymore.
This isn’t a story about a boy with selective mutism. It’s a story about healing, community, faith, compassion, hope, and friendship. Oh, and baseball.
An author’s note provides more information about the Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989, Angel Island (the “Ellis Island of the West”), and eczema.
You can learn more about Chris Baron here.
The Flight of Swans
By Sarah McGuire
Selective mutism isn’t a modern phenomenon. Its occurrence in medieval times made its way into the fairy tales of the time, including The Six Swans, which was later collected by the Brothers Grimm and retold by Hans Christian Andersen. The Flight of Swans is a retelling of that story.
Princess Andaryn’s father, the king of Lacharra, returned from the forest with a new wife. The woman has cast an enchantment over Ryn’s father and brothers, but Ryn sees her stepmother for the otherworldly, evil creature that she truly is. After a violent confrontation with the queen, Ryn is forced to strike a terrible bargain with the queen. The queen tells Ryn that she must remain completely silent for six years. If she speaks a single word during that time, her brothers will die. Then the queen transforms the brothers into swans.
Ryn escapes the queen, but she later realizes that the bargain did not provide for her brothers to return to human form at the end of the six years. She learns that to undo the enchantment, she must weave garments for them out of stinging nettles, a time-consuming and painful process. The only consolation is that her brothers return to human form briefly during each full moon, and they arrange to meet her during those times.
Ryn doesn’t simply sit and weave for six years. She must first learn to survive in the wild, and she is constant danger from the queen’s henchmen.
McGuire’s version of the story has some interesting twists that give the old tale new life. In her hands, it’s an enthralling story with a courageous, resourceful, and determined heroine. Fairy tale retellings often focus on romantic love, but this story highlights the fierce love that siblings can have for each other.
The Six Swans was one of my favorite fairy tales when I was a child. I thought it was because I identified with the sister who heroically suffered to save her siblings, but now I suspect it’s because I identified with a heroine who was compelled to be silent.
You can learn more about Sarah McGuire here.
Children with selective mutism may recognize themselves in the books described above. Children who don’t have the condition may learn to be more compassionate toward those who do by reading these books. Children who love reading good books will enjoy them because they’re good books that just happen to involve characters with selective mutism.
Thanks to Ivan Pretorius of pixabay.come for the featured image above.