When I first began working on this special issue of Journal of Narrative Theory, I was struck by both the opportunities and challenges of bringing these two disciplines into dialogue. Children’s literature, often seen as deceptively simple, contains a wealth of narrative complexity that deserves closer scrutiny. At the same time, narrative theory, with its robust analytical tools, offers a way to uncover how stories for young audiences achieve their emotional and cognitive effects. Yet, despite the potential for productive exchange, this intersection has remained surprisingly underexplored.
For me, the most exciting part of this project was curating a collection of articles that not only showcase the diversity of children’s literature but also push the boundaries of narrative theory itself. The contributions in this issue span a range of topics—from paratextual elements and metalepsis to cognitive narratology and nonhuman narratives. Each article offers a unique perspective, but together they form a cohesive exploration of how narrative operates in children’s texts.
My own contribution to this issue, titled “Narrative Voice, Mind-reading and Empathy in Children’s Diaries: The Dominant Autodiegetic Voice in Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” represents an attempt to address a specific question: How does the autodiegetic narrative voice in children’s diaries create empathy and emotional resonance? This article was, in many ways, inspired by my personal experience as a parent. Over the years, I have watched my daughter and son become deeply engrossed in the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. Their unwavering enthusiasm for these books made me wonder: What is it about this series that captivates young readers so thoroughly? As a literary scholar, I felt compelled to explore this question. I began by revisiting the series with a more analytical eye, searching for the narrative elements that make Greg’s voice so compelling. After several attempts to pin down what fascinated me most, I decided to focus on the protagonist’s voice—a feature that felt both central to the series’ appeal and ripe for theoretical exploration. Combining this focus with my familiarity with cognitive narratology, I delved into how Greg’s narrative voice shapes the reader’s emotional engagement.
What fascinated me most during this study was the dynamic interplay between text and image, and how this dual narrative mode generates both humor and pathos. Greg’s immature yet perceptive voice, paired with the illustrations, creates a narrative tension that draws readers into his world. This interplay not only allows readers to empathize with Greg but also encourages them to navigate the nuances of his unreliable narration.
Working on this article—and indeed, this entire special issue—has reaffirmed my belief in the value of interdisciplinary approaches. Children’s literature is not merely a simplified version of adult fiction; it is a sophisticated narrative form that deserves the same level of theoretical rigor and critical attention. I hope that this special issue serves as both a reflection on past scholarship and an invitation for future inquiry. There is still so much to explore at the intersection of narrative theory and children’s literature, and I am excited to see where this conversation will lead next.
