'And while we're on the subject', Guido went on, 'let me tell you something else. Once upon a time, people used to like coming to see Momo because she listened to them and helped them to know their own minds, if you follow my meaning. Nowadays they seldom stop to wonder what they think. They used to enjoy listening to me, too, because my stories helped them forget their troubles, but they seldom bother with that either. They don't have time for such things, they say, but haven't you noticed something odd? It's strange the things they don't have time for anymore.' (From: Momo , page 74)
People have no time to stop and listen; the colour leaves their lives. It's happening, assisted by the sinister grey men in bowler hats. Often children's literature has a clarity hard to find elsewhere. Ende is more famous for The Neverending Story and I could just as easily have chosen Le Guin's Earthsea or Pullman's Dark Materials . Does writing for children help writers express what is important about being human?
No time to read books like Momo? I rest my case. Taking time out to stop, listen, see what is around us, sounds so simple but Momo addresses directly our reluctance to face up to what is around us.
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