Mac Barnett, the national ambassador for young people\u2019s literature, was running late. He\u2019d been at Little, Brown to celebrate the launch of \u201cMake Believe,\u201d his first book for adults, then hopped on a subway to Books of Wonder, one of New York City\u2019s few bookstores dedicated to young readers.<\/p>\n
At 2 o\u2019clock on a Tuesday afternoon, the place was empty except for a handful of employees. As Barnett breezed in on a wave of apologies, everyone snapped to attention. Remember when Andy walks into his bedroom in \u201cToy Story\u201d and the playthings fall into position? Like that.<\/p>\n
Barnett, 43, is the award-winning author of more than 70 books for children, including chapter books, board books and graphic novels. But picture books are his favorite form, and the focus of his yearlong tenure as a leader at a tense time in children\u2019s publishing.<\/p>\n
Wearing loafers with no socks and a cap from Mount Analog Bookshop in Oakland, Calif., where he lives, Barnett was kinetic and authoritative \u2014 not pleased with himself, exactly, but comfortable with his own expertise.<\/p>\n
\u201cPicture books are why I started writing for kids,\u201d he said during an interview. \u201cI\u2019m interested in launching a cultural re-evaluation of the picture book as an art form. It\u2019s this dance between text and image, empowering the kid to notice things that adults don\u2019t see.\u201d<\/p>\n
In \u201cMake Believe: On Telling Stories to Children,\u201d he expounds on this point. A New York Times reviewer described<\/a> the book as \u201ccompulsively readable,\u201d a \u201csuccinct defense\u201d of Barnett\u2019s career, which he \u201capproaches as a ministry.\u201d<\/p>\n Books of Wonder was the first stop in an eventful 48 hours that would allow Barnett to evangelize to his new audience. To urge adults to let kids revel in picture books instead of leapfrogging over them; to encourage imagination over the joyless tallying of minutes for a reading log; to argue that libraries should not be swapped for maker\u2019s spaces. (\u201cI\u2019m all for a 3-D printer. Can we find another place for it?\u201d)<\/p>\n Barnett would visit the Library of Congress, where he shares an office with the U.S. poet laureate. He would sign books at East City Bookshop in Washington, D.C. And he would speak at a celebration for the opening of the Source, the library\u2019s new 4,000-square-foot interactive center for kids and teens.<\/p>\n But before Barnett got in the groove of his tour, he got caught up in a backlash that blazed across Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and Substack.<\/p>\n Already embattled by book bans, library budget cuts and the specter of artificial intelligence, a subset of the children\u2019s publishing community united on one point: It did not like how, in \u201cMake Believe,\u201d Barnett writes that \u201c94.7 percent of kids\u2019 books are crud.\u201d<\/p>\n Think the children\u2019s book world is all rainbows and butterflies? Think again.<\/p>\n Time for reading aloud<\/p>\n Barnett was raised by a single mother who was often exhausted after being on her feet all day.<\/p>\n In a phone interview, Julie Barnett recalled that her son was always the first student at preschool drop-off; she had to be at her nursing job by 7:30. Timing was tight.<\/p>\n \u201cI had an ulcer every day on that commute,\u201d she said. \u201cI was uber-sensitive about doing this right, not having me or Mac be painted with the brush of the quote unquote broken home.\u201d<\/p>\n Relying on recommendations from \u201cThe Read-Aloud Handbook<\/a>,\u201d Barnett prowled garage sales for books. She used Wite-Out to obscure previous owners\u2019 names, then inscribed her purchases to Mac. His favorite was \u201cBut No Elephants,\u201d by Jerry Smath, which she still knows by heart.<\/p>\n Barnett kept those picture books on a shelf in the dining room long after she stopped reading to her son. \u201cI never got the sense that they were lesser, or sub-literary, or something to be outgrown,\u201d Mac Barnett writes in \u201cMake Believe.\u201d<\/p>\n He studied writing with David Foster Wallace<\/a> at Pomona College and, while working at a summer camp, discovered that he really enjoyed reading to kids. It\u2019s still one of his favorite activities, he said, a guaranteed source of peace.<\/p>\n Barnett and his wife, Taylor Norman, a children\u2019s book editor, now have a 5-year-old son with whom they take turns reading every night. If their son picks one of his books, Barnett said, he\u2019ll head to the kitchen to grind coffee so as not to hear how the jokes land.<\/p>\n When I asked about children and technology \u2014 who hasn\u2019t noticed the replacement of books with iPads? \u2014 Barnett said: \u201cWe have this terrible habit of blaming kids for our failures. You see a kid on a screen and you\u2019re like, \u2018Kids are on screens all the time.\u2019 They\u2019re reflecting the world back, the world that we made.\u201d<\/p>\n He went on: \u201cWe\u2019re not reading to them, and then when kids are reading less we blame kids. The good news is, we can fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n While bullish on the importance of daily reading, Barnett is sympathetic to the overstretched caregiver.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not possible in every family. It\u2019s not possible every day,\u201d he said. \u201cI fall asleep mid-book sometimes and my son is still awake. I get it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018The longest job title in the world\u2019<\/p>\n Barnett was thrilled when he got word in the summer of 2024 that Carla Hayden, then the librarian of Congress, had named him national ambassador for young people\u2019s literature.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s the longest job title in the world,\u201d Barnett said, repeating a joke from his book. \u201cThat\u2019s how you know it\u2019s important.\u201d<\/p>\n He is the ninth author in the role. The program is a partnership between the Library of Congress and the literary nonprofit Every Child a Reader; previous honorees include Jon Scieszka<\/a>, Jacqueline Woodson<\/a>, Jason Reynolds<\/a> and Meg Medina<\/a>.<\/p>\n Barnett doesn\u2019t have an embassy or diplomatic immunity, but he is in possession of a bronze medal that he\u2019s required to wear to five official tour stops throughout the year. He declined to share the details of his contract and compensation, as did Brett Zongker, chief of media relations at the library, who noted in an email that the ambassador is paid as an independent contractor \u201cnot utilizing appropriated funding from Congress.\u201d<\/p>\n When I asked Barnett how changing political winds have affected his work, he said: \u201cYou feel it in the way you feel it. It\u2019s not the main thing parents are wanting to talk about. They want to talk more about iPads. But you do feel it.\u201d<\/p>\n When I asked Zongker whether Barnett is allowed to weigh in on book bans and D.E.I. efforts, he wrote that the library has asked ambassadors \u201cto keep their signature projects focused on some vital aspect of children\u2019s literature and to avoid politicizing the position.\u201d<\/p>\n The percentage of \u2018crud\u2019<\/p>\n But it wasn\u2019t a political issue that got readers riled up. \u201cMake Believe\u201d sparked a firestorm with a single line.<\/p>\n