If you are a children's book author in the US, chances are that you've dreamed of winning the Newbery Medal. It's been the country's most prestigious honour for children's literature since its inception in 1922, with winners including Louis Sachar, Beverly Cleary, EL Konigsburg and Madeleine L'Engle. At a time when books for children have never had a more visible presence (thank you Ms Rowling and Ms Meyer), winning a Newbery can go a long way to cementing one's place within the genre's canon.
But then Anita Silvey encountered a librarian just before the announcement of this year's Newbery winner (Laura Amy Schlitz's Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices from a Medieval Village) who grumbled about "what unreadable Newbery the committee was going to foist on us this year". She began to wonder if the Newbery had lost its way, choosing books that were overtly literary in tone and fixated on subjects like death and the loss of a parent, while neglecting the idea that it should be about reaching out to as many readers as possible.
The more Silvey polled experts, the more disheartening the results. The Newbery of old could guarantee sales of books like Sachar's Holes (1996) or Lois Lowry's The Giver (1994), but now children are more discerning – less intrigued by Newbery winners and more interested in classics like the Narnia books or contemporary books like Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl novels. Even Silvey had to conclude that "most of these [recent] selections have moved away from the spirit and philosophy of those who established the award."
Naturally, when established wisdom is challenged, debate follows, and this week Pat Scales, president of the Association for Library Service to Children (which gives out the Newbery Medal), defended its record and methods in the Washington Post.
"The criterion has never been popularity," he said. "It is about literary quality. We don't expect every child to like every book. How many adults have read all the Pulitzer Prize-winning books and the National Book Award winners and liked every one?"
That statement can be interpreted in two ways, neither of them flattering to the Newbery judges. If "literary quality" means exclusivity or a limited appeal, then by definition it chooses to reward books that will never have a mass appeal, or happen to have one by accident. The more troubling interpretation stems from equating children's book habits with adults', because at a time when young people are increasingly bombarded with alternatives to reading – be it video games, instant messaging, social networking and, of course, old-fashioned television – is it really in the Newbery's best interest to cut off their nose to spite their face?
Still, the fact that recent Newbery choices are fostering wide-ranging discussion in the children's book world can only be a good sign – just in time for the next winner to be named in January. And even if many still scratch their heads over how instant classic Charlotte's Web lost out the 1953 honour to The Secret of the Andes, the storms surrounding the Newbery pale in comparison to the uproar in the world of children's literature over one Katie Price.
