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Why do we bother with Father's Day? The male parent offers precious little to celebrate.
Most fathers are absent, in mind if not in body, and those that are present are greedy, stupid, lazy, drunk, selfish and bald. That, anyway, is what a great deal of modern children's literature would have us believe.
Homer Simpson is the model for today's fictional father. He lets his children down. He ridicules his hard-working daughter. His son looks like turning out as bad as he has. But Homer, at least, is redeemed by his absurdity. Not so others.
The father in Gorilla, the masterpiece of the new children's laureate, Anthony Browne, neglects his sad daughter. His place is taken by a toy gorilla which comes to life, puts on his coat and sweeps the girl off for a longed-for birthday trip.
Fathers in Jacqueline Wilson's books tend to be either absent (Tracy Beaker) or vile (Love Lessons). Women in children's literature get mixed, but generally favourable, reviews; men get a near-universal thumbs-down.
Some people (some of whom might be female) would suggest that this reflects reality. Certainly more fathers than mothers are absent. But are the present fathers worse parents than the mothers?
From the people I know, I would say not. Fathers are vastly more involved and therefore in love with their children than was the case when I was a child; and I reckon they are also, by and large, as good as the mothers at parenting - and sometimes better.
So why the bad press for fathers? I suspect that children's books reflect the changing balance of power between the sexes. In the past, adult female characters in children's stories were either dead (mothers), or bad (witches, stepmothers). Princes and woodcutters were inevitably virtuous.
About the only rogue males around were wolves: it's hard to write them as girly, and anyway their wolfishness trumped their maleness. The wicked woman is not, of course, confined to fairy stories: she's right in there at the beginning of Christianity, too.
As women gained political and economic power, it stopped being OK to represent them as the origin of sin. Worries about sexism sent the pendulum swinging far in the opposite direction.
Modern fictional women are therefore gentle yet strong, their cooking no longer flavoured with bat's blood, their ovens no longer heating in readiness to roast children.
The fact that children's publishing is dominated by women may have helped push the pendulum a little further.
Stories for children usually require an adult who is in some way unsatisfactory to provide an obstacle for the hero to overcome or an idiot for the heroine to educate.
Female publishers may not consciously choose books that denigrate men, but they may be more comfortable with a male failed parent.
Yet women should not draw too much comfort from the sensible and caring mothers who populate children's books today.
The fact that society feels it has to be especially polite about women suggests that it still regards them as the underdog, for these days we are rude only about the powerful; the weak are respectfully treated.
All of this suggests that women have not gained as much ground as they think, but at least they'll know when they have. When the men in children's books turn nice, then the male sex will know it's in real trouble.
Laura has a lucky escape
Losing in the first round of the women's singles must have been a dreadful blow for Laura Robson, but she has two consolations.
One is that she is 15, so has a decade or so on most of the competition. The other is that Gordon Brown has not made any phone calls to enquire about her welfare.
It may be that she does not seem broken enough: perhaps fallen stars need to check into hospital for psychiatric care to warrant Mr Brown's strong arm around their shoulders.
Or it may be that his new PR, Simon Lewis, has warned him off making toe-curling gestures to women he doesn't know.
• Iran's clerics seem to have been caught out by a trick of delicious simplicity. The opposition says it has evidence of electoral fraud: in 170 electoral districts, the number of votes exceeded the number of registered voters.
Not at all, responded Abbasali Kadkhodai, spokesman for the Guardian Council of top clerics, crossly: that was the case in only 50 districts. Well that's all right, then.
Destined for the dustbin of history
A moment comes in every society when each individual has to decide where they stand on the great issue of the day. For Iran, it's theocratic rule. For us, it's wheelie bins.
After a persistent campaign by the Daily Mail against this "blight", our Supreme Leader has put out a strong statement: "We have very tough recycling targets to meet. It is very clear that there is a wide range of opinions on how we should tackle that waste. Inevitably, of course, there will be compromises."
Tension is running high in my square and riots are expected - but at least we've got wheelie bins to hide behind.
Emma Duncan is deputy editor of The Economist.
Reader views (1)
Homer may not be much to look at, and he may make a lot of mistakes, but he is a great father. I am sure Bart and Lisa would agree with me.
- Marjorie Simpson, London, 23/06/2009 15:03
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