Communicating Adverse Childhood Experiences:

The relationship between text and image in emotionally challenging contemporary picture books.

Introduction

As children we are small sponges of the environments that we are born into, and raised in. Children’s brains develop faster than any other part of their body, and every thing they take in creates new connections in their brain, forming new patterns of thinking and subsequently affecting their behaviour and understanding of the world around them. (‘The Power of Words’ 2022) This not only applies to our immediate surroundings such as family members as primary sources of information, but also secondary sources such as the lessons we learn at school, and the books that we read or have read to us by caregivers.

In this dissertation, I will be investigating the importance of the relationship between illustrations and text in contemporary picture books that convey emotionally challenging and often taboo subjects. I will be analysing various case studies that show a variety of ways of utilising the text and image relationship, in particular looking at how Angry Man has succeeded at conveying the experience of domestic abuse through the use of text and visual metaphor, encouraging the opening of conversations about taboo subjects between children and their caregivers.

‘Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) are highly stressful, and potentially traumatic, events or situations that occur during childhood and/or adolescence. It can be a single event, or prolonged threats to, and breaches of, a young person’s safety, security, trust or bodily integrity.’ (‘Ym-Addressing-Adversity-Book-Web-2.Pdf’ 2018.)

In order to diversify the subject matter of the case studies I will be looking at, I have chosen to analyse books that aim to help children who have experienced at least one ACE-related trauma. ACEs can cause toxic stress for a child, which can lead to long-lasting effects on their body and brain as an adult. (‘What Are ACEs? And How Do They Relate to Toxic Stress?’ 2023) In order to help reduce the impact that experiencing multiple ACEs has on a developing child, it’s important to grow strong and responsive relationships between children and trusted adults. Children often find it difficult to talk about their experiences due to a lack of emotional understanding and sense of self, so having tools like picture books to help open conversations can be vital to helping the child to understand what they are experiencing and feeling, and how to process it safely.
As adults, we are responsible for deciding which books are appropriate for specific age ranges, dependent on the social and emotional development of the child. As a child I grew up in a household of secrets where difficult topics weren’t spoken about; resulting in normalising abuse and unhealthy relationships. I’m now passionate about encouraging open communication between children and care-givers, and using illustration to help provide resources and stories for therapeutic parenting. Throughout my personal research and working with a trauma therapy charity (CLEAR), I have discovered that there is a huge range of books that adults consider appropriate for young children; and a large variety of writing and illustration styles. I am interested to explore the different styles, to discover how books that seem to have very little in common in their portrayal of emotionally challenging subjects, fundamentally adhere to the same understanding of the importance of opening up difficult conversations between children and their caregivers.

Chapter One: Angry Man

Angry Man (Dahle 2019) is a picture book about domestic abuse from a young child’s perspective, and the healing process. Written by Gro Dahle and illustrated by Svein Nyhus, it communicates the emotional experience of witnessing domestic abuse, paying close attention to the child’s inner thoughts, feelings and confusion, and how that is processed differently to an adult. Dahle and Nyhus are well-known within the publishing world for their picture books about challenging and controversial narratives, and the awareness that they bring to the text and image relationship within their picture books. Norwegian picture books are viewed very differently to the more structured system of appropriately age- ranged books that most publishers have here in the UK, in Norway they are not always written or illustrated for one fixed audience. Picture books in Norway are for all age ranges, often aimed at older children and adults with their darker themes, and more detailed and explorative text.
Originally published in Norway in 2003, Angry Man was created from an idea to help families and people of all ages to talk openly about the effects of Domestic Abuse, an idea that came from a therapist/social worker named Öivind Aschjem (‘Let’s Talk Illustrators #109: Gro Dahle and Svein Nyhus’ 2019.). Aschjem was able to provide direct quotes from children who had been through therapy and could give them physical descriptions of the emotional turmoil that came with living in a family of violence. This approach to writing and illustrating books about sensitive subjects is undeniably helpful, not only for the author and illustrator, but also for the audience to reach a level of catharsis, and to empathetically connect to the characters within the story, and their experience. Emotional dysregulation can be difficult to portray in children’s books, because children have a very different understanding of complex emotions than adults. Their vocabulary is more limited, and their emotional understanding is still developing. Accumulating research or direct quotes from children who have lived experiences is vital for the empathetic connection between reader and character, and the success of Angry Man being translated into many languages is testament to the sensitivity and honesty throughout the pages, both within the choice of imagery and through the undeviating, descriptive text.

Figure 1: Dahle 2019a. From Angry Man.

From the very beginning, the use of mark making to communicate emotion is clear. The cover of the book suggests very little through its imagery, giving more attention to the title, with its bold, all-caps, and un-fussy font (See Figure 1). The size of the font, the use of the mark making and the vacant expression of the character within the illustration, gives the cover an unsettled feeling due to the contrasts between all three elements; creating a sense that something is unsettling and a feeling of not knowing what to expect. Due to the cover not giving away much about the situation, the reader immediately experiences the same unsettled and confusing feelings that the main character is experiencing throughout the book, leading us into the world of the protagonist and creating a space for empathy and catharsis.

Throughout the book, the text and illustrations come together to depict how the boy is feeling. The text is very descriptive and is mostly the internal monologue of the little boy, whilst the imagery is much more literal in its depiction of what is happening, simultaneously avoiding evidence of direct physical contact so as not to upset the reader. By focusing more on the emotions portrayed by the characters, it allows the reader to understand what is happening, without the need for it to be explicitly illustrated or written. Such complexity might be seen to be too challenging for young readers to engage with and understand, however during a research study with a group of children analysing challenging and controversial picture books of a similar nature, Dr Janet Evans observed “(...) they showed: a willingness to be open-minded,: an awareness of deep, profound issues; and a level of maturity beyond their years (...)” (Evans 2015). Children are often excited and interested by complex books with darker subjects and will take time to understand the story and meaning behind the illustrations, which is important for their cognitive-affective development, because it offers something for their brain to work on (Nikolajeva 2017).

In comparison to most picture books, Angry Man contains a very large body of text running through the book. Each double page spread contains a paragraph of text, often filling up a third of the page with text alone. This is unusual, as it leaves a smaller space for the illustrations to communicate and could seem intimidating to young readers, who rely more on visually represented emotions, as their brain processes verbal statements about emotions at a slower pace (Nikolajeva 2017). However, it’s important to note that Angry Man isn’t written with a very young audience in mind, despite the protagonist’s age. In this case, the use of illustration is to help the text to communicate the emotional turmoil of the situation, in a way that often words can’t do alone. From my own experience and research, words are often very difficult to use to describe traumatic experiences, especially for children. “In face of danger, our human psychobiology takes over. The right hemisphere of our brain associated with survival behaviours and emotional expression is activated and the left verbal-linguistic part of our brain is suppressed.” (‘Narrating Trauma—From No Words to Your Words | Psychology Today’ 2023). This is evidently expressed within the text of Angry Man, appearing to have moments of deliberate disconnection, and often jumping between what is happening in the boy’s external world and the world inside his head. It’s the attention to details like this, that make Angry Man such a useful tool for children learning to cope with traumatic situations, to realise that they are not the only person experiencing something in that way.

Angry Man is a book full of semiotics, and the use of metaphor and symbolism within the text and image is apparent on every page. It allows the reader to piece together the information given to them like a puzzle, to allow them time to look around the page and decode the meanings. For example, “The hallway is on fire.” (Dahle 2019) Is not a literal description of the hallway, but instead is a metaphor for the level of anger, threat and danger that has been reached on this page. The illustration also uses mark making and colour to signify flames and fire, although we know as the reader that this is a connotative sign of danger and the intensity of the anger, not a denotative sign of fire.

Figure 2: Dahle 2019b. From Angry Man.

Figure 3: Dahle 2019c. From Angry Man.

This level of intentional disconnect can also be seen through the way in which the book is narrated in the third person. The story is about the experiences from the boy’s point of view, and yet the jarring nature of It being narrated by a third person creates a similar feeling to dissociation experienced by many trauma survivors, who describe a sensation of being removed from their own body, often viewing the event from above in extreme circumstances. (Sinason 2011) This is hinted at in Figures 2 and 3, as not only does the illustration change from the previous page of red, anger-fuelled mark making to depict the rage and danger of the abuse, the text also changes from being descriptive “There’s banging in the flames. Everything is flickering and breaking. The house is twisting.” (Dahle 2019) to incoherent noises, as the boy attempts to escape his surroundings mentally. “Ba ba ba ba. Ba ba. Ba. Ba. Beyond a ridge of blue mountains. Beyond thought.” (Dahle 2019). Whilst this page appears initially to not make much sense to the reader, it becomes clear that this is how the boy learns to dissociate to cope with the trauma. Without the image and the text working together in this example, it would be confusing to understand what is happening. Combining the happy, softly illustrated image of the boy running with the dog (Who is a representation of a character the boy trusts) it is evident that this scene is within his head, leaving the chaos and danger behind in the real world, as shown by the abstract red mark- making and pattern spilling over from the page turn, a connotative signifier of the danger still present.

“It’s just Daddy. But in that cellar behind Daddy’s voice, someone is coming up. (...) It’s Angryman who wants out. Oh dear Daddy, don’t let Angryman out. Don’t let Angryman come. I’ll be so good. I won’t say a word. I won’t breathe.” (Dahle 2019)
The use of metaphor within the text demonstrates how a child of his age is attempting to process complex emotions towards his father whom he loves but has learnt to associate with danger and unpredictability. The decision to split the character of the father into two separate personalities (Daddy and Angryman), refers to the unconscious psychological defence of ‘splitting’(Kilborne 1999), also known as ‘black-and-white thinking’. In psychoanalytical theory, this functions as a defence mechanism for children who experience danger and threat from a care giver. Young children have not yet developed the emotional understanding to process that their parent can be the main cause of danger and harm, and yet also someone that they rely upon to meet all their needs. Acknowledging this as a child would mean that suddenly the entire world and everyone in it is dangerous, which is far too overwhelming to cope with. It is important to recognise the presence of splitting throughout the text in the book, as there is very little semiotic representation within the illustration to suggest this until the final pages (See Figure 4). This final cohesive connection between the image and text comes together to form a single connotation of understanding and acceptance of Daddy’s emotional states, as shown by the multiple illustrations of the character expressing different emotions, being embraced by the larger Daddy character. It can be hard to find a realistic ‘happy’ ending to books that cover such emotionally difficult subjects, but Angry Man manages to find a neutral ending that also helps readers to understand some of the reasons why Daddy has problems controlling his anger, and the ongoing process of changing behaviour patterns.

'“And Daddy has to walk all the way down the long, long staircase to Angryman and get to know him. Listen to Angryman and become his friend. And see that, behind Angryman, there is an old Angryman (...)” (Dahle 2019). This metaphor opens the potential for conversations between caregivers and younger readers about the different emotional states, and for older readers it hints at the impact of generational trauma, perhaps Daddy has learnt his emotional reactions from an older Angryman?

Figure 4: Dahle 2019d. From Angry Man.

The book doesn’t try to end by answering all questions that boj and the reader might have, but instead provides a space for them to work through them. This is not only important for the characters within the story, but also contextually for the reader, who may be using this book as a form of Bibliotherapy to make sense of their own experiences and emotions (De Vries et al. 2017).

When analysing the illustrations within Angry Man, it’s important to pay attention to the vast array of small connotative visual signs within the imagery as well as the more obvious denotative. In order to decode the visual signifiers within the book, I will be using the sign- system created by French semiologist, Roland Barthes (Genosko 2007). Connotative signs might be missed if read without proper attention to the image as well as the text. What at first glance might just seem like random, meaningless objects positioned on the page, are subtle signifiers that work alongside the text to add another layer to the story. Just like when trying to verbalise difficult experiences, the illustrations are often fragmentally spread across the page, seeming to have a limited connection to each other. But this is not the case, and often the small signifiers must be looked at together to understand the overall signification.

Figure 5: Dahle 2019e. From Angry Man.

Take for instance the first page of the book (See Figure 5). There are many smaller connotative signifiers within the imagery, that are referenced further throughout the book. The first is Boj holding a piece of paper and a pencil, which appears later in the story as he writes a letter to the king explaining what is happening at home (See Figure 8). However, throughout the pages there are more denotative signifiers of writing, the pencil, and the pieces of paper. When viewed together, these signify the possible attempts from Boj to communicate (See Figures 6 and 7), concluding in the image of Boj holding a letter with his arms open, signifying the moment he is finally able to communicate it to someone. The signification of these images together, creates the message to the reader that it is okay to tell someone, even if it is messy and takes time. This is important for the reader to understand, that the process of communicating especially for children is not a linear process, and often involves several attempts.

Figure 6: Dahle 2019f. From Angry Man

Figure 7: Dahle 2019g. From Angry Man

Figure 8: Dahle 2019h. From Angry Man

Another example of smaller connotative signifiers is the juxtaposition of the hammer next to the fishbowl in Figure 5. When viewed as individual objects within the story, they appear to have little significance. However, combining the objects creates a sign of instability, danger and fragility, a visual metaphor for the tension building from the beginning of the book. We associate the object of a hammer with high levels of energy and the act of hitting. We also associate the glass fishbowl with fragility, containment and safety. The combination of the two signifiers next to each other creates a feeling of unease, and a visual metaphor for destruction of safety and containment. It took me many times of reading the book to notice the significance of the small fishpond at the end of the book in Figure 4. Relating to previous pages, the fishpond is now a contrasting metaphor from the image of the fishbowl in Figure 5. This creates the signification of letting emotions out in a healthy and controlled way, just like the fish being free from the confinement of the fragile glass bowl.

Although the signifiers can often be understood by looking at the other illustrations without the need to include the text, one page relies heavily on the text in order to correctly decode the signs within the illustrations. An example of the text being used to anchor the individual elements of the illustration is seen in Figure 9. The illustrations alone are difficult to make sense of, without context from the text.

Figure 9: Dahle 2019i. From Angry Man.

The illustrations in Figure 9 are symbolic rather than literal, each piece of the visual puzzle is connected to a description within the text. At first glance the open arms of Daddy with a present might appear inviting and friendly, but the reader will know from the text ‘Angryman may come out of Daddy’s back at any time’ (Dahle 2019) that Boj has learnt not to trust Daddy anymore. It is not unusual for an abusive parent/partner to give gifts as a form of emotional manipulation (Katz et al. 2020), and it’s important for the book to acknowledge this in order for readers to know that just because someone is occasionally nice to them, it doesn’t mean it isn’t abuse. Boj’s trauma response of needing to run away is visualised by the shoes next to the doors, the doors signifying the inability to escape. The reader is able to understand that the doors are not a literal description of a door, but more the need to escape the situation. This due to the text accompanying the illustration ‘A thousand doors have shut Boj in. And Mama can’t find the keys. Because Mama has no keys to find. (...) Because Boj has to get out. Out out out. Boj has to get out.’ (Dahle 2019) The sense of urgency in the text is mirrored in the number of doors that are illustrated.

Studying the basic principles like scale, colour, shape and placement of the characters throughout the book, allows us to see how the content of the book is built, controlling the emotional pace and flow (Bang 2016). Molly Bang explains the fundamentals in her book Picture This: How Pictures Work, analysing how the simple structure of shapes and colours can influence our emotional reactions to imagery.

Throughout most of the book, Boj remains small in scale, and his body language is often closed-off, trying to make himself as small as possible. This demonstrates his feelings of helplessness and vulnerability. Daddy is always the biggest character, although crucially he becomes smaller in scale than every other character on the page when the king has received the letter from Boj, including Boj. He is seen kneeling on the floor next to a chair with a broken leg, another metaphor for his broken emotional state.

Looking at the positioning of the characters, on some pages, Mama is placed between Daddy and Boj (See Figure 10).

Figure 10: Dahle 2019j. From Angry Man.

We recognise this as a symbol of protection from Mama, and yet on other pages where the order is changed around (See Figure 2), we recognise this as a sign of danger, as Mama and Boj have been separated by Daddy. This sudden change of order causes the pace of the book to stop, as if frozen in time. Contextually, we know from research that in moments of trauma, time can often appear to stop when the flight, fight, freeze or fawn response of the victim is activated (Duros and Crowley 2014). This is also signified through the image of the clock striking midnight above Boj’s head, another connotative signifier of change and time stopping. As Daddy begins to get more angry and increasingly dangerous, the illustrations begin to incorporate the colour red, which connotes anger and danger. He also increases in scale whilst holding the character of Mama to the left, forcing the two characters to separate and cause the reader to wonder if Mama will be left on that page forever, demonstrating the reality of families who experience extreme cases of domestic abuse. The threat to life is not explicitly communicated within the text, nor the illustration. However, combining the visual signifiers and metaphors within the text “Mama is flickering in the flames. (...) ‘The house of paper is so thin.’ (Dahle 2019), the reader is aware of the potential outcome.

Chapter Two: Text and Image in Emotionally Challenging Picture books

Angry Man is an incredibly symbolic, honest, and raw picture book, unafraid to cause shock and start conversations around the taboo subject of domestic abuse, especially its impact on children. Nyhus and Dahle are known for producing books that succeed in challenging taboo and sensitive subjects. But what about examples from other authors and illustrators, how do they approach these subjects, and what are their similarities or differences?

Chapter Two Case Study: Missing Mummy

Rebecca Cobb is a British children’s book illustrator. I first discovered her books when studying The Day War Came (Davies 2019) as part of my Foundation Degree, whilst researching different forms of displacement within picture books. Two of her illustrated books focus on specific Adverse Childhood Experiences: The Day War Came is a young child’s experience of displacement due to fleeing war in her home country, and Missing Mummy (Cobb 2012) is written about a very young child’s perspective of parental grief. In comparison to Angry Man, the style of writing and illustrations could not be more opposite, and yet both communicate their subject matter so clearly and effectively.

The style of illustration and text of both of these books are what picture book scholars refer to as ‘simple and symmetrical’(Nikolajeva 2017). The words and images duplicate each other, and there is less decoding of the illustrations for the reader to do. It is important to note that these books are aimed at children between 3-7 years and are both published by British publishers. British publishers often publish more commercial, symmetrical picture books than continental publishers who are less afraid to publish books that stimulate the child’s imagination, and where ‘the text and pictures work together to tell the whole story rather than one merely replicating the other.’ (Flugge 1994). British Illustrator David McKee was of the opinion that the ‘poetical approach found on the other side of the Channel is not accepted here because people are afraid of their feelings.’ (Flugge 1994). From my analysis of children’s books from other cultures I have discovered this to be true, although there is evidence over the past few years that the British public are becoming more interested in emotive picture books for all ages, particularly due to the success of The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and The Horse (Mackesy 2019), published a couple of months before the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic forced Britain into lockdown in March 2020. The book became a symbol of hope to so many people and encouraged people to confront their emotions during such a challenging time, through the relationship of illustration and text.

Looking at Missing Mummy, the front cover is not too dissimilar to that of Angry Man, with its focus on the title and main character.

Figure 11: Cobb 2012a. From Missing Mummy.

However, the cover already tells the reader that it is a book about bereavement in a matter- of-fact way through the description in the corner. Unlike Angry Man, there is no guessing what the book might be about. There is some evidence of signs throughout the book, but the majority of the pages include illustrations that are a literal representation of the text, which averages one sentence per page, a stark contrast to the poetic paragraphs of text in Angry Man. This makes it more appealing to a younger audience as it is straight-forward and adheres to the evidence that when dealing with grief, it is important to be honest and truthful with young children, not to confuse them by avoiding words like ‘died’.

One page that utilises the text and image relationship to create a sign, is the first page (See Figure 12). The text doesn’t ever mention the word ‘funeral’, but the description of ‘Some time ago we said goodbye to Mummy’ (Cobb 2012) combined with the visual signifiers of black clothing (a signifier of mourning and grief) and rain (metaphors of sadness), creates the sign of a funeral, which the reader understands to be his mother’s.

Figure 12: Cobb 2012b. From Missing Mummy.

Most of the book is illustrated and written symmetrically, with the text being factual and didactic, and the illustrations being literal representations of the text. There are small hints to metaphors within the images like a winter tree to represent sadness (See Figure 13), but the visual exploration of emotion is relatively contained in comparison to Angry Man. This is not necessarily a negative. Both books are aimed at different audiences, and Missing Mummy is intended specifically to therapeutically help bereaved children, which is why the child-like illustration style works perfectly for communicating to children that they aren’t alone in their experiences.

Figure 13: Cobb 2012c. From Missing Mummy.

Chapter Two Case Studies: Please Tell! and I Need To Tell You Something
As part of my research, I wanted to find books that were written and illustrated by people with lived experience of their subject matter. This is of particular interest to me personally, as I am interested in how that influences the way that the topic is communicated. In 2021 I illustrated my own experiences of disclosing childhood sexual abuse, as a means of communicating how difficult it can be to use words to describe traumatic events. I found this interesting for my research, and as a result found myself interested in how another young girl communicated her own experience of disclosing childhood sexual abuse.

Please Tell! (Jessie 1991) is a book published by Hazelden Publishing, a publishing branch of an American ‘non-profit provider of comprehensive inpatient and outpatient addiction and mental health care for adults and children.’ (‘Hazelden Store: Addiction Treatment, Publishing, Education, Research, and Recovery Support’ 2023). Written and illustrated by a nine-year-old girl, this book aims to help other sexually abused children to know that it’s okay to talk about their feelings, to know they’re not alone, and that it wasn’t their fault. This book is useful as a tool for professionals and parents dealing with children affected. The treatment and support for CSA is delivered individually due to safeguarding reasons, and whilst it is vital for their recovery, it leaves children often feeling like nobody else has ever experienced the same thing, which just adds to the secrecy and shame. Learning through the use of this book that they are not alone can help ease the sense of loneliness and isolation. As the foreword to the book states:

Not all sexual abuse cases result in the kind of effective resolution that Jessie experienced. But even with cases in which a child’s statements are slow to be believed and supported, Jessie’s story can add a sense of hope for what should be, and the knowledge that the child protection system can work for children. Children can talk to children in a way that adults can’t. (Jessie 1991)

Similarly to Missing Mummy, Please Tell! is written and illustrated by the same person and follows a similar pattern of the illustrations depicting exactly what the text describes. This is mostly likely due to the age of the author, and the way that a child’s brain thinks creatively. Given the child’s age, the maturity of the text may come as a surprise to the reader, because unlike Missing Mummy, the text is much more descriptive and confronting. Through my research I’ve often seen how adults are nervous to be direct with such sensitive subjects, as if they expect reading about trauma to be traumatic itself, instead of helping children to comprehend difficult life experiences. Yet this nine-year-old has expressed their experiences in such an honest and emotional way. Please Tell! is an honest account of this young girl’s experiences, in her own words. As adults we know how children can be manipulated into not talking, so to be able to read a direct account is both refreshing and harrowing. Many therapeutic books are softened for children through the use of metaphor, to prevent re- traumatising them or overwhelming them, and provide enough ‘distance’ for the children to explore the issues raised in the story (Marsh 2021).

Whilst they serve a great purpose therapeutically, it is useful to have books like Please Tell! that can offer children a direct approach, especially for a topic that is often avoided, stigmatised, and can lead to a lot of confusion for children. As Kenneth Kidd observes, there seems to be ‘A consensus now that children’s literature is the most rather than the least appropriate forum for trauma work.’(Kidd 2005) It is vital that children are able to find books that are willing to ‘explore dark emotions and damaged lives (...) and characters whose distress is not relieved by the arrival of a fairy godmother or fortunate twist of fate’ (Reynolds 2007).

Please Tell! Is formatted in an educational way, with a page of text on the left, and an illustration on the right. The following illustration is often a symmetrical depiction of what is happening in the text, or the emotion of the character (See Figure 14). The illustrations are quite simple due to the age of the child illustrating the story, so the text is responsible for communicating the narrative.

Figure 14: Jessie 1991a. From Please Tell!

Not only does the book focus on the experience of reporting and getting psychological help, but it also focuses on the emotional experiences of the child in the past and present. Whilst the illustrations on most pages are an exact visual description of the text (A drawing of a therapy room with toys or a drawing of the police at the door), on some pages there is a noticeable change in how the text is interpreted within the image. For instance, in Figure 15, the text is describing a combination of moments that are based around the intense feelings of fear and anger. The illustration is relatively emotionless when analysing the facial expression and the scene, however the inclusion of a bed and the character kicking, signifies the level of distress that is still experienced around triggers. For many children who have experienced sexual abuse, bedrooms and beds can be emotionally triggering places, which is signified through this illustration.

Figure 15: Jessie 1991b. From Please Tell!

There is no use of metaphor within this book, which is in stark contrast to my work around the same subject of disclosing, although aimed at an older audience. The outcome of disclosing abuse can be different for everyone, and not all of us have positive experiences. I want my work to reflect the experiences of so many who go unheard, or struggle to tell their story verbally. In contrast to Please Tell!, I Need To Tell You Something (Cree 2022) relies entirely on the illustrations, using limited text and colour to enhance the importance of the various signifiers within the image, such as the red colour tying the family members together, the torn drawing, and the blue colour representing the person of trust (See Figure 16, 17 and 18). The image in Figure 16 is broken into three by the boundaries, creating three separate images that focus on the three themes within the overall image. The adult, the child, and the bottle. The face of the character has been erased leaving a faint reminder of their facial features, symbolising the brain’s way of protecting survivors from remembering specific details and creating a sense of detachment from the perpetrator.

Figure 16: Cree 2022a. From I Need To Tell You Something

Figure 17: Cree 2022b. From I Need To Tell You Something

Figure 18: Cree 2022c. From I Need To Tell You Something

Chapter 3: Metaphor as Language

Metaphor is not just something we use within literature, it is evident within the way we communicate, our language, and the way that we make sense of the world. Perhaps it so effective within the text-image relationship because it is universally used by people of all ages, genders, and nationalities. Being able to operate the two semiotic systems simultaneously through both visual and textual metaphor, allows the reader to apply their own contextual analysis to the book, and its significance to them personally. Although specific metaphors may vary between cultures, we subconsciously us metaphor daily in our communication, especially when relating to emotions.

For example, orientational metaphors organise a system of concepts with respect to one another, and give a concept a spatial orientation (Lakoff and Johnson 2003). We often use spatial metaphors to describe our emotional states, such as “I’m feeling down”, and the opposite “high” is often used to describe being happy, elated, or full of energy. This is also evident across visual metaphors and body language. When we see someone with their head hung low and slumped over, we assume that they are feeling sad, lonely, down or low. Those last two words don’t explicitly describe an emotion, but they denote various aspects of emotional concepts.

When working with people who have experienced severe trauma, psychologist David Grove noticed that clients describe their most troubling emotions and most traumatic memories as metaphors (Geary 2011). Labelling specific emotions doesn’t always do justice to the qualitative experience of that emotion, whereas ‘Metaphorical language can describe the indescribable’ (Geary 2011). In an effort to explain our experiences, we try to relate them to something that others can understand and relate to. Grove noticed that that there was a whole new way to structure experience, and that metaphor could form its own language. He devised ‘Clean Language’ (A form of analysing client’s metaphorical ‘landscapes’) as a technique to help clients with PTSD, to use their own metaphors to achieve emotional insight and psychological change. (Geary 2011)

Through my research I have discovered psychologists and therapists who use many different theories when working with childhood trauma, including the Lacanian theory of the symbolic register and unconscious language, and how it is made up of a ‘chain of repressed signifiers’ (Perman 2018). One particular book called The Unsayable (Rogers 2007), provides a deeper insight into the way Lacanian theory can be used to analyse the way young children communicate in therapy through metaphorical language and signs, looking at how after trauma, our body speaks it through words and signs that often don’t make much sense until we put them together, much like decoding the text and image relationship within picture books. ‘(...) trauma follows a different logic, a condensed psychological logic that is associative, layered, nonlinear, and highly metaphoric.’ (Rogers 2007). The metaphors and language of play within the therapeutic setting allow children to connect the disjointed pieces of their trauma and learn how to process them verbally with help from the therapist.

As authors and illustrators, we are continually learning to apply our knowledge of metaphor as language to influence the way we tell stories, and to deliver sensitive subject matters to young audiences in an age-appropriate way.

Conclusion

In conclusion, there are a wide variety of picture books that communicate adverse childhood experiences to a young audience, and many ways of utilising the text and image relationship, often through visual and textual metaphor. Therapeutic books are often more linear in their relationship, leaving less room for misinterpretation.
Whilst picture books such as Angry Man are not created with the sole intention of being used within a therapeutic setting, the use of metaphor consistently throughout allows the audience to become creators and interpreters, to encourage the reader to analyse their own interpretations, often delving into their own inner experiences. This is proven to therapeutically benefit those who have experienced ACEs, by allowing them to express their experiences and emotions through the language of metaphor. It is important to note that every person’s experience of a trauma is unique, and the way in which they process it is too. Being able to have a variety of books that deal with it in different ways, allows readers to choose which books are the most cathartic to them. As long as the book doesn’t leave the reader in despair and gives them a sense of hope, it is clear that there isn’t one perfect method of communicating these difficult experiences. Just like the road to recovering from the trauma itself, it’s not a one-size-fits-all scenario. The books that appeal to different audiences will depend on their age, but also the culture that surrounds them. The text and image relationship varies across different nationalities, and is dependent on whether the book is educational, therapeutic, or working to inspire a change of approach to sensitive subjects within mainstream publishing. European picture books are more confronting and challenging in their approach, whilst British picture books are much more didactic. Both approaches work for different reasons, and both adhere to the universal understanding that the transformative power of picture books can help us have conversations about these difficult, taboo subjects, ultimately creating a shift in how we as a society help the younger generation to change the way we deal with the impact of trauma.

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