There is nothing new about stars trying their hand at children’s fiction (Julie Andrews published Mandy back in 1971). But the announcement in October that Keira Knightley has written and illustrated her first children’s novel, billed as “a modern classic”, was met with anger among children’s writers who took to social media to joke that they wanted to become film stars. The written word can be a tricky thing to navigate for the untutored. Jamie Oliver was forced to pull his new title Billy and the Epic Escape after it was criticised for perpetuating harmful stereotypes and “trivialising painful histories” of First Nations people.
There is understandable frustration from other authors, who feel they are being crowded out of press coverage and bookshops. Sometimes it is unclear who is actually writing the titles. It is no surprise that many memoirs are ghostwritten – no one really thought Prince Harry toiled for months to write Spare. A celebrity’s life story belongs to them, after all, so it doesn’t seem so problematic that a professional writer is hired to tell it. But who owns an idea or fictional narrative?
The old adage that everyone thinks they have a book in them is doubly true when it comes to children’s books. How hard can it be? The answer, obviously, is very hard – or there would be no need for ghostwriters. Removing any uncertainty around the authorship of children’s books will help not only the ghosts but those celebrities who really do write themselves. Successful writers such as Tom Fletcher (of McFly) and David Baddiel are now best‑known, certainly by children, as authors.
The Society of Authors (SoA) is also calling for celebrities, publishers and agents to acknowledge all writers behind books written by well-known figures, in particular children’s books. You couldn’t put your name on the bottom of a painting, or claim to have composed a piece of music created by someone else, no matter how famous you might be. But this happens all the time in publishing, where there seems no end to the appetite for books by Hollywood actors, pop stars, comedians or members of the royal family.
Sporting stars Chris Hoy and Marcus Rashford have always graciously acknowledged their ghosts. Demi Moore was refreshingly candid in saying she could not have written her memoir Inside Out without her ghostwriter, the journalist Ariel Levy. Such words should not be the exception. Putting the names of translators on book covers has become standard practice following a SoA campaign in 2021. It would like the same option for all ghostwriters (some prefer to remain anonymous). Currently, a mere “thank you” in the book’s acknowledgments suffices. Other suggestions are fairer payment and contract terms (ghostwriters are often given a flat fee that excludes television or film rights), and to be included in sales data and meta-data such as Amazon recommendations. Even the term “ghostwriter” suggests something unreal and invisible. This smoke-and-mirrors trick is out of step in an era that claims to value authenticity so highly.
The rise of celebrity books goes hand in hand with the rise in celebrity culture (last week it was announced that Sarah Jessica Parker will be a judge for next year’s Booker prize). A novel is not a bottle of perfume: slapping on a twinkly name is not enough. The brand is not more important than the content. Writing is an art form like any other and takes years of dedicated work, which should be recognised.