Whether kind and caring like Pooh, quirky and cuddly like Paddington, or loyal and, well, a little lairy like Iorek, bears’ paw prints can be found across the gamut of children’s literature.
So, just what is it about bear characters that captures readers’ imaginations?
And how does Bartley Bear and his family transcend the literary trope?
Bearing With It
Bartley wasn’t always a bear! Sarah and Rachel experimented with various incarnations of the young male who would be at the centre of Parenting Through Stories.
It was important is that he wasn’t human - as it’s the alternate, fictive world that Bartley inhabits that allows the child reading the story to experience his feelings, and reflect on their own, from a comfortable emotional distance.
So, why did they settle on a bear?
As far as anthropomorphised animals go, bears have got it pretty good.
Mice = meek.
Lions = a little aloof.
Wolves = big, bad.
Bears = Honey-loving, strong and large-hearted…whilst they’re not always book-smart, they almost always have a high EQ.
Their narrative function is often as teacher - see Kipling’s Baloo - or mentor…note the low-key manner in which self-effacing Pooh imparts important life-lessons.
I personally appreciate the anti-establishment antics of Yogi-bear. Whilst teddy bears’ penchant for picnics has been well documented, Yogi’s obsession is next level. Wait for it…Yogi puts the ‘nick’ in picnic. (Sorry, couldn’t resist).
Depicted in varying degrees of humanness, the matted fur of bears' uncouth antecedents is typically sloughed off in stories in favour of sassy sartorial swagger: Yogi sports a dapper trilby, Rupert some pretty snazzy slacks. But it has to be Paddington who takes the sandwich (marmalade, of course). His yellow-boots and red-mac combo is as iconic as any Chanel ensemble.
Given these literary ‘paw-fathers’, it’s no surprise that the inquisitive, cheeky and playful characteristics of Bartley are well-suited to bear DNA.
Grin and Bear It
One of my earliest memories is of my fourth birthday. We had a surprise guest. The Birthday Bear.
Now, on an estate in the north of England in the summer of ’85, this was a pretty big deal. I mean, the grizzliest thing we’d experienced to date was either when Little Jack smashed Mr Dontbreathenearmycar’s front window during a particularly brutal game of rounders, or that Saturday the ice-cream man ran out of flakes. Gruesome scenes, both.
I was four and, given that I believed dragons lived in the nearby woods (Ig, Og and Ug, as you’re asking), a huge brown bear attending my party was accepted without question.
Full disclosure: our family was an anachronism on the estate. Both of my parents worked (!), I didn’t wear make-up (!!) and did wear dungarees (!!!). We were definitely odder, if not odd-balls. And, now, I thank goodness for it.
Then though, I worried about not being, well, a little more beige. I watched only limited TV, so my references were not like the other kids…social events were often nerve-wracking emotional ricochets between confusion, misunderstanding and shyness.
When the Birthday Bear showed up, amidst the sheer awesomeness - a bear! - a small part of me worried that the other kids might not like him and therefore me by extension.
(Although, really, exactly what did I imagine their beef with him to be: “Oh my goodness, does that bear even own a crimping iron?” “And where is his shell-suit?” Such is the ridiculousness of overly concerning yourself with others’ opinions.) M
My fears of course were unfounded: a four year-old’s social calendar is relatively tame. You can bet no other kid had a bloody great grizzly bear helping her blow out her candles.
The Birthday Bear caused some general mayhem, chased us around the back garden, bundled us into some bear hugs then loped off back to the woods at the end of the cul-de-sac.
(The only thing that was a little perturbing was that the bear had taken a fancy to my dad’s trainers…he wore them the whole afternoon. Curious.)
I still remember that bear hug. It felt reassuring; it felt like home.
Hug from the Heart
Whilst I wouldn’t recommend seeking one out in the woods of Wisconsin (real bears don’t ‘hug’ unless they’re making you their picnic), the bear hug - as co-opted by humans - is something all parents have in their toolkit…and the concept is key to Bartley’s Books.
Fathomless, warm and accepting, Bartley’s parent’s arms are always there as a safe space: as a touch-stone when he’s feeling happy, or sad, or stressed.
A vital part of the parenting approach we’ve been discussing is the connection you forge and strengthen with your littles. Even if it’s not as a result of a ‘rupture’, a cuddle re-affirms your bond - as does the physical closeness you have when you’re reading together.
However, the bear hug as a metaphor is even more powerful.
One of our key roles, we’d all agree, is trying to inculcate a deep feeling of security in our children. Our arms will not always be there to shield them from the world, to sooth their anger, or soak up their tears. But, the emotional resilience we can foster for them, now, through our parenting actions, can be.
Through PACE, active reparation when things go awry and a reflective approach to parenting - and living in general - we can call into being an embrace that defies physical limitations.
Their belief that they are accepted, that they are safe and that they are loved is a portable cuddle they will always carry with them.
As I said, I can still feel that hug: it thwarts time, and cheats death.
Bear it all
For all of the above, do you know the best thing about bears?
They are wild.
What I love about how Sarah has written - and Rachel has depicted - Bartley is to emphasise this sense of his inner freedom…
His imagination runs wild.
He is unfettered by pesky reality: he jets off into space; he IS an astronaut.
His mum capitalises on this, using creative means to get Bartley out of the door and down the street to school with a huge grin on his furry face.
Of course, Bartley represents our own cubs whose vivacity and wildness we celebrate and delight in; whose imagination we know we have lost and are poorer for it.
Exit, pursued by a bear
Last week I suggested we should be more Elsa…this week I’m ending with a similar call to arms (or paws).
The things that will impinge on our kids’ future freedoms might be physical, but are much more likely to be internally constructed barriers.
The world has room to make a bear feel free;
The universe seems cramped to you and me.
Man acts more like the poor bear in a cage,
That all day fights a nervous inward rage. (Frost, from The Bear Poem)
As Frost describes it - the ‘nervous inward rage’ cages our adult selves, limiting our potential.
We are frequently our own jailers. However, even from within our own prisons, we can set our kids free.
Right now, in their childhood, we can bestow upon them the keys (or cudgels) to unlock (or break down) the psychological walls that could encage them.
And we can do this through PACE parenting, reparation and reflection and lots of talk-time with our tots.
So, think of Bartley and his ‘bearishness’ as totem or spirit animal…and be more bear:
• Hug your cubs long and hard.
• Through conscious PACE parenting, set them free: physically and emotionally.
• And, of course, grab a marmalade sandwich, some honey for tea and go on a picnic with your little teddy bears.
These really are the bear necessities of life.
x Becks
We’re within four weeks of the Crowdfunder campaign beginning. Follow our journey on the channels below and keep sharing your stories about PACE parenting and the importance of story-telling.