Agafay Books | Blog | Children’s Literature
There is a very common belief in the world of children’s publishing: to write for children, you must simplify. Short words. Short sentences. Simple ideas. This conviction is so deeply rooted that it becomes almost a reflex, an unwritten rule that every author, publisher, or parent absorbs without ever truly questioning it.
And yet — is this really what our young readers need?
A well-intentioned belief, but too reductive
The intention behind this belief is a good one: to make reading accessible, to not discourage, to create a space where the child feels at ease. Nobody wants a book to become a source of frustration or anxiety for a young reader. But there is a subtle — and very important — line between accessibility and simplification. And within that line hides a deep question: by simplifying, are we not ultimately underestimating those we are trying to reach?
Children are not miniature adults, of course. But they are not empty vessels, waiting to be filled with pre-digested content either. They observe. They feel. They question. Often with a depth that surprises us.
What we lose when we write “down”
The British critic and educator E. B. White, author of the beloved Charlotte’s Web, wrote something remarkable: you have to write up, not down. Children are demanding. They accept, almost without question, anything you present them with, as long as it is presented honestly, fearlessly, and clearly. They love words that give them a hard time.
This statement stops us in our tracks, doesn’t it? Because it contradicts everything we think we know about children’s writing. And yet, it touches on a truth that many authors and readers feel intuitively: children are not easily fooled. When a book treats them as fragile beings, when the language is too polished, too predictable, when the emotions are too neatly resolved — they sense it. And often, they turn away from it.
The richness of language is not an obstacle
One of the greatest fears in children’s literature is that of “difficult” vocabulary. So we cut, we simplify, we replace. But let us look at what truly happens when a child encounters a word they do not yet know.
They do not necessarily stop. They search. They deduce. They use context, images, and the atmosphere of the text to understand. And when they succeed — when the word that was once unknown suddenly becomes clear — something happens: a small light turns on. A quiet pride. A joy that is not forgotten.
Poetic language, metaphors, vivid images — these are not obstacles for young readers. They are invitations. Open doors toward a richer understanding of the world and of themselves.
Difficult subjects deserve an honest treatment
This reflection takes on an even deeper dimension when we speak of subjects such as growth, the body, emotions, or even the realities of life. There is a temptation — very human and very understandable — to “protect” children by watering down these subjects. To gloss over them. To barely touch on them, with vague words and half-hearted explanations.
But children, especially teenage girls aged 12 to 14, are already living through these changes. They feel them in their bodies, in their emotions, in their daily lives. What they need is not to be ignored or to receive half-answers. They need to be accompanied — with respect, with warmth, and with an honesty that acknowledges the complexity of what they are going through.
Writing honestly for young people is not about frightening them. It is about trusting them.
Accessibility ≠ Impoverishment
All of this does not mean we should write as if for an adult audience. Accessibility remains essential. But it comes through other choices: the rhythm of the narrative, the gentle progression of ideas, the presence of characters one can bond with, a warm and reassuring tone. It comes through how we tell the story, not through the impoverishment of what we tell.
A book can be both easy to follow and deep to feel. It can use poetic images without being inaccessible. It can tackle complex subjects without being heavy. This ability — to create a space where depth and lightness coexist — is perhaps one of the most beautiful missions of children’s literature.
Our role at Agafay Books
This is precisely the conviction that guides our work. When we create a book for teenage girls in the Arab world and in Morocco, we do not pretend that the subjects are simple. We seek to tell them with gentleness, with poetry, with a depth that respects the intelligence of our readers.
Because a 13-year-old girl going through the first changes of her life does not deserve a book that speaks to her as if she were a 6-year-old child. She deserves a book that says to her: I see you. I know what you feel. And you are not alone.
This is our commitment. And it is at the heart of every book we create.
At Agafay Books, we believe that children’s literature at its best does not simplify the world — it illuminates it.
