#41: Stories of intrinsic motivation for all ages

📚A curated list of children's books

Mar 16, 2022

I’m excited to introduce this guest post by Sarah Miller for Why Would Anyone.

Sarah’s newsletter Can We Read? and her encyclopaedic passion for children’s literature has inspired me to bring different stories, characters, art, and colours into our family’s life.

Today, she shares her selection of children’s books that tell stories of intrinsic motivation. I’ve already ordered the last two books on this list from our local library. I hope you will enjoy and share this post with the other book worms in your life!

Tania

When you take a minute to think about it, intrinsic motivation shows up frequently and in a variety of ways in children’s literature. After all, it’s an eternal part of being human—doing something for the satisfaction of it, rather than the promise of external rewards—and if there is one thing that children’s books do beautifully, it’s help children with the (sometimes messy) reality and process of that.

Below you’ll find reviews of books that fall into the category of “about or adjacent to intrinsic motivation.” Each originally appeared, at one time or another, in my newsletter, Can we read?—a weekly guide to children’s books and how to build a culture of reading in your home.

Each story is a different peek into, as Tania says, “why we do what we do”—and though there’s something to learn from them all, most importantly, there’s something to enjoy. Reading is (not always, but usually) the ultimate act of intrinsic motivation—I hope these leave you feeling satisfied.

1. Raising Dragons by Jerdine Nolen, illustrated by Elise Primavera (1998)

The parents of the unnamed little girl in this story don’t know anything about raising dragons, but they’d taught their daughter about caring for living creatures from the day she was born, so when she finds a giant egg in a nearby cave and out hatches a dragon, it’s love at first sight.

She names the dragon Hank. And though her parents don’t see the point of keeping a dragon around a farm, the little girl goes about her business anyway, feeding Hank fish, frogs, eels, and insects, and taking night rides on his back. When Hank takes to doing the work around the farm — planting, weeding, even popping a field of corn with his fiery breath — the little girl’s parents come around, eventually allowing their daughter to vacation on Hank’s home island, where he offers the family a gift that will change the future of the farm (and the future of the dragon-raiser) forever.

I love this title for its tender depiction of friendship and its sense of gentle adventure — the little girl and her dragon are two unlikely peas in a pod but their relationship just works, and little ones will love to see how it all unfolds in Primavera’s vivid illustrations, done in acrylic paint and pastel on gessoed illustration board.

Sometimes you just need a good old story, you know? This is one.

2. Mole Music by David McPhail (1999)

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times: I love, love, love David McPhail. I never tire of his books, it thrills me to find titles in his back catalog that are new to me, and I love sharing his lesser-known oldie-but-goodies, and that’s exactly what Mole Music is.

One day Mole happens to hear a violinist playing a concert on TV and he falls in love with the instrument, ordering one for himself and beginning what turns into years of practice, until eventually his talent surpasses the musician who originally inspired him. He imagines “that his music could reach into people’s hearts and melt away their anger and sadness. Why, maybe his music could even change the world!” but he also laughs at these thoughts of his, believing that no one has ever heard his music. Little does he know that his music has affected the world around him since the very beginning.

In McPhail’s watercolor and ink illustrations, Mole’s practice always takes place underground, at the bottom of the page, while the years pass above him, on the top half of the page. At first the only beings listening to Mole’s music are a tiny tree and a few birds, whose facial expressions make it clear Mole is a true beginner on the violin — but over time, the tree grows, and various people pass by and under the tree, which now has a line of musical notes running through it while Mole is playing. The reader sees how the people aboveground respond — George Washington and Abraham Lincoln make an understated appearance at one point — until eventually, a war begins and just as abruptly ends in peace when the opposing sides hear Mole’s music, and lay down their arms. No one aboveground ever knows where the music is coming from, and the text never once explains that Mole’s music actually is changing the world, making this a brilliant opportunity for conversation about (shoutout to Brené Brown) the story Mole is telling himself, the assumptions he’s making, the things we don’t see if we don’t look.

I love this book for many reasons — this double-story chief among them, but also for its quietude and the subtle but powerful message that practice for mastery takes a long time and a heart full of dedication, but dreams are real and they can change the world.

3. I Will Dance by Nancy Bo Flood, illustrated by Julianna Swaney (2020)

“On my birthday, I can’t blow out the candles — not enough strength. But I have one wish: a pink tutu. I want to dance.” So begins this lovely story of an unnamed wheelchair-bound girl who can only move her head, arms, and fingers, and who wonders how it feels to move like other kids. She is clear that she doesn’t want to pretend — she says, “I want to move. I want to feel the music, sway, swing, fly over and under. Together. Not alone.” Her mother promises her they will find a way, and it is as if the Universe hears, because a way appears: an audition in the newspaper invites people of all ages and abilities to try out to dance.

The girl’s feelings are so relatable, whether you live with a disability or not: she’s not sure she’s ready, she’s worried about what others will think. But she wants to try, and — I love this — she does. In the studio she finds all kinds of people — “all dancers, with canes and crutches, walkers and wheels, bare feet, slippers, or calluses — dancers. Not imagine, not pretend.” They dance together, learning how to be, how to move as themselves and as one, all the way through performance night, where the girl — not alone — dances.

Based on the Young Dance Company (and a real performer in that group), this story is as strong as it is beautiful — Flood has crafted a narrative that handles a tender topic with zero sorrow, just straight grace, supported completely by Swaney’s evocative watercolors and graphite, which give the sense at all times of dancers in motion. There is much to talk about here — about bodies, about abilities, about hopes and dreams — and my children and I have had those conversations, and I’m glad. I Will Dance is worth talking about.

4. Bravo Anjali! by Sheetal Sheth, illustrated by Lucia Soto (2021)

Anjali is a girl who loves playing tabla — small hand drums used in Indian music — and though it’s traditionally considered a boy’s instrument, Anjali excels at it. Still, as the only girl in her tabla class and one who outshines everyone else, at that, she draws the ire of her supposed friend, Deepak, who is critical of her “star student” status and whispers to their mutual friends about her even at school.

Finally, Anjali can’t take it anymore and she disappears into the bathroom to take deep breaths, only to find an empathetic fifth grader, Tina, whose inquiry into Anjali’s current state causes Anjali to erupt — her hurt, frustration, and subsequent negative self-talk explodes on the page. After she stops, Tina tells her quietly, “Never dim your light, girl.”

These are just the words Anjali needs to hear. When it comes time to perform in the tabla class recital Anjali decides to do her best regardless of what Deepak or anyone else thinks — she finds strength in remembering her love for the music and makes up her mind not to “let anyone make her feel bad for being good at something.” Anjali’s performance is brilliant and, when Deepak apologizes for his behavior toward her, she accepts, inspiring a younger girl through her demonstration of both courage and heart.

There are a few spots where Sheth’s text doesn’t flow perfectly — it’s as if the scene in a movie has changed abruptly — but the story, especially complemented by Soto’s fresh, expressive digital illustrations, is strong nonetheless. I was a little worried that my kids would find this too didactic a tale but on first read they were absolutely riveted (and have asked to revisit it again and again).

The message here is very clear — that playing small never serves anyone; that we can and should go all out for our art, for the things that light us up and make us happy — and it’s surprising how good it feels for everyone to hear.

5. Guji Guji by Chih Yuan-Chen (2003)

If I had to make a short list of my 4yo’s favorite books of 2021, Guji Guji would be on it. The weird, goofy story of an egg that rolls down a hill and accidentally lands in a duck’s nest (the mother duck doesn’t notice because she is busy reading — obviously I loved this book immediately), Guji Guji grows up “a rather odd-looking duckling” (whose bizarre name was the first thing he said when he hatched, and it stuck).

One terrible day, three crocodiles come out of the lake and confront Guji Guji about who — or rather what — he really is. “I am not walking like a duck, I am a duck!” Guji Guji tells them, but they laugh, of course, and not only cause him to doubt himself, but ask him to trick his family so they can eat the ducks up. After some sweet soul-searching, Guji Guji decides he is not a bad crocodile (though he acknowledges that he’s not exactly a duck either) and comes up with a plan to outwit the crocodiles.

I won’t reveal the way in which Guji Guji delivers the crocodiles their just rewards — suffice it to say that I love this quirky title for its plucky hero, its clever narrative, and its comforting messages about love, belonging, and trusting ourselves.

There are bad crocodiles out there — when we know ourselves, it’s easier to beat them.

6. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin (2009)

Grace Lin is that rare creature in the world of children’s books: it’s hard to say which is better, her writing or her illustrations, but it doesn’t truly matter because they’re both fantastic. What I love most about Lin is her imagination, which is on full display in her picture books like A Big Mooncake for Little Star, A Big Bed for Little Snow, and especially her Where the Mountain Meets the Moon trilogy.*

This rollicking adventure story begins in the valley of Fruitless Mountain, where a girl named Minli lives with her family. Their life is difficult, and though they find some relief in old folktales — namely one about Jade Dragon and the Old Man on the Moon — it’s not enough, and one day Minli decides to set out to find this Old Man and change her family’s fortune.

What happens on her quest is a wild tale of magic, friendship, bravery, and smarts — told as stories within the story for a unique twist on narrative — that I truly believe will leave any child above the age of four on the edge of their seats (teens and adults included; I tore through this book when I first read it myself). Lin’s full-color illustrations are infrequent (which I like, because it allows one to build this world and this story in one’s mind) but as impeccably done as ever.

This is a read-alone for older elementary kids or a read-aloud for younger ones, but I’m confident in saying that whoever picks it up should set aside several days of plans because nothing else will get done until this excellent book is finished.

*The next two books are When the Sea Turned to Silver and Starry River of the Sky

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