Frightened George: how the pediatric-educational complex ruined the Curious George series

Journal of Social History, Fall, 2005 by Daniel Greenstone

As for the man, he goes to extraordinary lengths to ward off danger. He pilots a helicopter and rescues George. When his monkey is safe again, the man says, "I am so happy to have you back, George ... I was scared, and you must have been scared too. I know you will not want to fly a kite again for a long, long time." (30) The George stories have evolved from wild, vicarious thrills to a neutered, cautionary tale. Even something as innocuous as flying a kite turns out to be fraught with danger. The story ends with George returning the kite, which he exchanges for a baby bunny. The last page shows George playing tamely with the bunny indoors.

True to his promise in the fifth book to be less curious, for the rest of the series George never again attempts anything remotely adventurous. We never even see him pictured out of doors again.

In the sixth book, Curious George Learns the Alphabet (1963), the Reys decided, as the title suggests, to continue their efforts on behalf of literacy by writing an alphabet book. The plot, such as it is, consists of George learning to read and write, and his adventures are limited to making a minor mess in the living room and tricking the baker into giving him extra donuts. For each letter the man teaches George, he gives an example. Revealingly, the examples often emphasize the dangers that suddenly seem to be everywhere. Alligators eat you, bees sting, crabs pinch, riding a dromedary makes you dizzy. This book, too, is overly earnest, and, at 71 pages, like its predecessor, seemingly endless.

The final story in the series, Curious George Goes to the Hospital (1966), was a collaboration by the Reys with officials at Boston's Children's Hospital. In the story, George has to have a stomach operation, and he is terrified. He brings a rubber ball (his transitional object) with him to the hospital, and the man accompanies him up the stairs as George "held his big rubber ball tight." (31) Inside the hospital, every procedure is explained to George, step by step, to allay his fear. The man's sensitivity toward George is in striking in contrast to his attitude in the first two books. He assures George he will be back first thing in the morning, and he tells him, "Nurse Carol will tuck you in when it's time to sleep." Still, when the man leaves, "George just sat there and cried." (32) The most illuminating passage is when the man says, "Don't worry, George, you have been there before when you broke your leg." (33) It is little wonder that George needs reminding of his earlier trip to the hospital, because the contrast between the two scenes could hardly be more stark. The man is referring to the second volume, in which George breaks his leg after jumping from a fire escape. That scene, discussed above, is jovial, punctuated by George's hallucinatory episode with ether. The difference in tone in the two hospital visits encapsulates the transformation of George, from adventurous and bold to frightened and meek. This shift, of course, mirrors the transformation in American middle-class child-rearing practices during the twentieth century, as chronicled by Stearns. It is therefore unsurprising that the impetus for the meek portrait of George in the final book came from the pediatric establishment. The idea for the story came not from the Reys, but from officials at Boston Children's Hospital, who wanted a book to prepare children for a hospital stay. (34) Unfortunately, the demands of the pediatric-educational complex for a reassuring story, where anxiety and fear were validated and processed, happened to be inconsistent with George's signature character traits.