The Bookshelf—Where are the Mothers?

There's Always Room for Another Book

Picture books that focus on the mother-and-child relationship tend to be sweet, cuddly, and full of the power of unconditional love, but they are not exactly stories. They’re often board books geared towards pre-verbal children. They seem to be their own trope and are, for the most part, expansions of the many ways to say, “I love you.” Of course, children should hear those sentiments early and always. Reading aloud the gentle, often rhythmic intonations of motherly love is soothing to little souls. But without detracting from that genre of picture book, it’s interesting to consider the role of the mother in children’s books as a whole.

Mothers in children’s literature have mostly been relegated to the binary of monster/ evil or good. In fairy tales, the mother figure is most often portrayed as either persecutory and forbidding (the Queen in Snow White) or dead/absent (Cinderella and Peter Pan), and the element of unattainable beauty (or at least an illustrated version of Donna Reed) is often tied to the mother-daughter relationship.

The “good mothers” are traditionally background players, fulfilling their roles unobtrusively and behind the scenes, performing their motherly duties of cooking, sewing, bathing, and putting children to bed. There isn’t a lot of dimension. Regarding representations of fathers, before 2005, fewer picture books overtly addressed the father-child relationship, but now that trend has shifted; fathers are more often depicted engaging in “masculine activities” such as showing their child the ropes, camping, or hiking.

Most children’s picture books are not about mothers (or fathers) but about the children themselves and rightly so; children’s books allow children to relate to the difficult parts of themselves and discover that they are still lovable in the deepest sense. That’s the beauty of children’s literature—it introduces children to their inner imperfect selves and then offers them the relief of knowing that all parts of them are acceptable.

But this is not a thesis, nor is it an extensive review (don’t get me started). However, as Mother’s Day is swiftly approaching, I wanted to share a few picture books that don’t reflect the mother-child relationship as either dualistic depictions of good and evil or flattened renderings of one-dimensional love. But each, in its way, touches on the complex dynamics between mothers and children because, after all, children need their mothers to be as imperfect as they are.

Watercress. A mother’s deep-seated sense of scarcity triggers her daughter’s shame. This story, about a child of immigrant parents who feels like she doesn’t belong, is ultimately about the search for connection while navigating generational trauma. It’s a beautiful love letter of acceptance.

I Can Explain. A mother corrects her child’s bad manners (nail-biting! nose-picking!), but the child outwits her with clever and silly explanations of why he must indulge his habits. Of course, the child calls out the mother, and the mother is not immune to the same type of reasoning.

What is Given from the Heart. Despite devastating family loss, a mother guides her son towards kindness and generosity. The child knows they are poor, that his mother is struggling to be brave, and that she’s mourning as much as he is. In a difficult world, this is an affirmation of kindness and empathy.

I Like to Be Little. An exploration of childhood and adulthood. The daughter can hold both her experience and her mother’s in this sweet duet. It’s unusual to see the acknowledgment of the differences between mothers and daughters laid out so explicitly.

The original. Where the Wild Things Are. The mother is absent only in form and her response to Max’s outburst fuels the dichotomy of their relationship. The brilliance is that, while the story is Max’s, both mother and child must navigate the complex dynamics between them, with the realization that no matter what, it is in the comforts of home where he’s “loved best of all.”

Friends. Yes, this book focuses on the sweet, chaotic, imaginative, and mercurial friendships of childhood, but there’s a line in there that always takes my breath away. The child says, “I feel lonely when Mother goes out,” and then carries on with her play. Because she is secure in her mother’s love and because she knows her mother always returns, she is free to be herself. Without mother, how can one grow up?

Happy Mother’s Day.