The Art of Story-Telling

In Short

This guide acts as a bridge between the performer’s inner creative life and the audience’s reception. It is a technical manual for teachers, parents, and librarians, detailing how to select, prepare, and deliver stories to children. Beyond mere performance tips, the book argues that storytelling is a vital instrument for moral and emotional development. By blending rigorous practical advice with a deep appreciation for folklore and literature, the work has remained a foundational text for those who view the shared narrative as a transformative, living art form.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book begins with the premise that storytelling is a craft that can be learned, practiced, and perfected. It opens by acknowledging the professional and personal barriers faced by those tasked with entertaining children in libraries and clubs. From this starting point, the focus shifts to the "essentials"—the internal work required of the speaker. The author asserts that the teller must first undergo a period of quiet, disciplined preparation, treating the story like a growing organism that requires time to develop before it can be effectively shared.

As the argument progresses, the focus moves from the speaker’s internal preparation to the selection of material. The text warns against the pitfalls of "sentimental" stories and moralizing tales that prioritize dry instruction over the imaginative needs of the child. The author provides a detailed roadmap for finding stories that resonate with a child’s natural development, emphasizing that the "wonder stage" of childhood should never be stifled by bowdlerized endings or sanitized versions of classic folklore.

The middle section delves into the mechanics of the performance itself. Here, the author examines how to maintain the audience's attention and how to handle the inevitable awkwardness of failure—such as the cautionary tale of a visitor to a kindergarten who attempts an ill-fated, improvised story that leaves children confused and disinterested. By examining these missteps, the book demonstrates why concentration and a lack of condescension are paramount.

The progression then moves toward the deeper, more subtle benefits of the art form: the cultivation of humor and the ability to distinguish truth from falsehood. The author uses literary examples, such as the surreal logic of Alice in Wonderland, to show how stories can help children navigate complex social concepts and develop a healthy sense of perspective.

The work concludes not with a finality, but with a toolkit for the future. The final chapters serve as an extensive, curated bibliography and resource list, offering the reader specific paths to explore in folklore, mythology, and literature. The arc ends with a call to action, encouraging the reader to view the act of telling not merely as a way to occupy time, but as a commitment to a "higher perfection," where the story serves as a mirror for the listener’s own growing character. The journey finishes where it began: with the conviction that the teller is a steward of tradition, responsible for passing on the "seed" of the story to the next generation in its most potent and honest form.

How It Unfolds

The foundation of the craft The text establishes that storytelling is a serious endeavor requiring both natural aptitude and rigorous training. It asserts that the master of the craft must move beyond being merely a "born" performer to become an "expositor" of the stories they tell.

The period of gestation The author explains that a story must be allowed to grow slowly, much like a design on a loom. She illustrates this through her own struggle with Hans Christian Andersen’s tales, where characters only became alive after weeks of intense, discouraging focus.

Navigating the pitfalls The book warns against common mistakes, specifically the habit of "showing the machinery" to gain easy applause. It argues that cheap results discourage the development of a high standard, which requires the teller to embrace the "drudgery" of practice.

The ethics of selection The argument shifts to what should be excluded, specifically emotional analysis and overly sentimental content that ticks the adult palate but ignores the child's perspective. It highlights that stories should not replace direct teaching, but rather bypass a child’s resistance by engaging their imagination directly.

The importance of integrity The author takes a firm stance against changing the endings of traditional folklore to avoid distressing children. She argues that such tampering is "indefensible" and confuses the child's natural stage of development.

Expanding the horizon The final beats involve practical application, moving into the use of humor, the interpretation of Indian myths, and the value of classical stories. It concludes by providing a comprehensive, annotated list of resources, ensuring the reader has the tools to continue the work independently.

The People

The book is populated by a blend of historical and fictional figures who embody different approaches to learning. The author, Marie L. Shedlock, serves as the primary guide, a seasoned professional who demands excellence from her readers. She is the central figure, possessing the "gift of Scheherazade" but insisting that this gift is nothing without the labor of study.

Opposing her vision are the "unimaginative people" and the "young teachers" who rely on cheap tricks, sentimentality, or overly analytical methods that deaden the child's interest. These unnamed figures serve as foils, representing the path of least resistance.

We also meet the Kindergarten children and the unnamed "visitor" who fails to engage them. This scene highlights the importance of empathy; the visitor’s failure is rooted in her inability to bridge the gap between her own agenda and the children’s reality.

Hans Christian Andersen and Confucius are treated as touchstones—the former as a master of the "live company" of characters, and the latter as an example of empathy and action. Finally, Alice, the protagonist of Lewis Carroll, plays a critical role as the benchmark for teaching children about perspective, humor, and the dangers of being "sillier" than the situation requires. Each figure helps define what the author values: grace, intellectual honesty, and a profound respect for the child’s interior life.

In Its Own Voice

“It is well when the master of a craft begins to take thought and to discover what underlies his method.”

This line, from the Preface, sets the tone for the author's commitment to analyzing the mechanics of storytelling rather than relying on intuition alone.

“The special joy in the slowly-prepared story comes in the exciting moment when the persons, or even the inanimate objects, become alive and move as of themselves.”

This sentence captures the author’s primary motivation: the magical threshold where the narrative shifts from being a performance to an independent reality.

“I live in dread of finding one day a bowdlerized form of ‘Bluebeard’ (prepared for a junior standard), in which, to produce a satisfactory finale, all the wives come to life again.”

This quote summarizes the author's uncompromising stance on maintaining the integrity of folklore, even when the subject matter is dark or difficult.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is about the "metamorphosis of reality." It explores the idea that stories are not just diversions, but essential tools for developmental growth. The core argument is that the teller acts as a mediator between the "clay lodgings" of the human condition and the higher potential of the soul. It addresses the tension between the analytical, "grown-up" mind—which wants to moralize and sanitize—and the child’s innate, healthy intuition. By advocating for the use of ancient myths and folklore, the author argues that these primitive tales provide a necessary language for children to understand complex truths, such as the necessity of courage and the distinction between truth and falsehood, without the need for heavy-handed lecturing.

Why Read It Today

Readers who value the preservation of oral traditions will find this a deeply rewarding guide. It offers a refreshing alternative to modern, fast-paced media, asking the reader to slow down and invest time in the "drudgery" of preparation to achieve a truly resonant performance. The writing is warm, authoritative, and occasionally sharp, particularly when the author criticizes the trend toward "bowdlerizing" classic tales.

However, the reader should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes embedded in the text. The references to nineteenth-century education, the terminology concerning the "normal child," and the occasional inclusion of archaic social norms reflect the time in which it was written. Some of the listed book references are quite old, and the pedagogical language may feel dated. Yet, those who can look past these artifacts will find a wealth of wisdom that remains startlingly relevant. The book is not a quick fix; it is a meditation on the importance of the human voice, and it stays with you as a reminder that the best way to touch a listener is to first find the "live company" of characters within yourself.