Two of the UK's leading experts on writing for children explore some of the highs and the lows in the world of children’s literature. Critic Nicholas Tucker tracks the development of political correctness in children’s literature.

Children’s literature only really expanded in the UK with the arrival of cheaper printing processes in the late 19th century. But the books that resulted were still relatively expensive, and were therefore bought mostly by middle and upper-class parents. Not surprisingly, such books reflected the views and aspirations of these adult purchasers, given that children themselves were seldom in a position to buy books for themselves. Poorer readers had to make do with 'Penny Dreadfuls' and 'Bloods', the names given to cheap sensationalist magazines. Nearly all children liked these, if they could get their hands on them, just as most of them still enjoy comics now. But more affluent Victorian and Edwardian young readers also had the option of picture books and novels written especially for them, and it is these books that are seen as the foundation of the still expanding world of children’s literature that exists today.

The child heroes and heroines of such books were almost all 'well born'. For education, they either went to boarding schools or had lessons at home from governesses. If they occasionally had to live in poverty following some financial disaster, they always retained the impeccable manners and morals that are also characteristic of Oliver Twist, despite the fact that from babyhood he was brought up in a workhouse. Class will out, and it is no surprise when Oliver is revealed at the end of his adventures to have noble origins. This novel, the first in English ever to have a child’s name as its title, was read by many children at the time, with Dickens at one stage chosen as their favourite writer.

Should working-class children feature in these novels, they would generally have a subsidiary role. If from the countryside, they might well be loyal retainers in the making; if from the towns, they could sometimes come over as more sinister. Disabled child characters would generally be there simply to make a point about disability, with the implied exhortation to readers to be kind to such people should he or she meet them in real life. But disability especially in adult characters would still on occasions be linked to moral deformation. In Nicholas Nickelby Mr Squeers’ greenish grey single eye, given ‘that the popular prejudice runs in favour of two,’ is just one indication of his general villainy. The same is true of Blind Pew and Long John Silver in Treasure Island, where disability once again is used as a metaphor for general delinquency. 50 years later, the best-selling Enid Blyton could still introduce a thoroughly bad character who had a humped-back and was therefore known as ‘Humpy’ by her often insensitive young adventurers. Although her stories are still on sale today, their texts have since been cleaned up to make them more acceptable to a modern audience.

As for ethnic characters, their traditional role in literature was to be picturesque when babies, amusing as children and loyal to their white masters as adults. But if they were of mixed blood, the outlook was nearly always bad. Captain W. E. Johns had a particular loathing of those he labelled as mulattos in his 'Biggles' books, with Blyton’s stories the other best-selling children’s fiction during the 1940s. These characters, with their shifty looks and lack of subservience, were often shown leading innocent native characters into ill-advised acts of colonial rebellion. Once order was restored they returned to outsider status, rejected by both sides and belonging to neither.

Such attitudes to class, disability and race only really changed after 1945, when school and public libraries expanded along with an explosion of paperback novels. Now that working-class families could easily buy or borrow books for themselves, it quickly became obvious how few stories talked directly to them. Very soon working-class heroes abounded from authors like Robert Leeson, Bernard Ashley and John Rowe Townsend. Boarding school stories finally went into full retreat, and today are virtually only represented by the Harry Potter fantasies.

Ethnic characters also began to appear, now living in British towns rather than out in the bush. Starting off very often as victims of colour prejudice, such characters increasingly existed in their own right, with their colour no longer seen of any particular importance. Those stories that still write about ethnicity as a potential problem, like Beverly Naidoo’s fine novel The Other Side of Truth, focus on refugee children rather than first or second generation immigrant families.

Disabled children in fiction have made a similar journey. From being seen as problems to themselves as well as others, they are now more often accepted as characters whose disability is the least interesting thing about them. In Hilary McKay’s brilliant novel Saffy’s Angel, Sarah is easily the most determined and effective teenager on the set despite being confined to a wheelchair. When the disability is still one that the public does not easily understand, books now exist that explain it to a wider audience, such as Mark Haddon’s award-winning The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Its hero is a teenage boy with Asperger Syndrome, and although this does not make him an easy character he is so skillfully portrayed that readers of all ages have soon warmed to him. There was a time, a century ago, when audiences would chuckle at best-selling novels mocking mental disability such as J. Storer Clouston’s The Lunatic at Large, but these days are long gone.

So if the world in general has not always progressed very much over the last century, children’s literature is an honourable exception. It remains at best a treasure trove for children and increasingly an unexpected and welcome surprise for adult readers. The crossover novel produced today by authors like Mark Haddon, Philip Pullman and, yes, J. K. Rowling, is nothing new. Victorians from Mr Gladstone to Henry James also enjoyed some of the famous children’s books of their time. They were right then, and readers of all ages are right now in looking to this one section of literature that goes on getting better and better without pandering to prejudice and ignorance.

Nicholas Tucker is honorary Senior Lecturer in Cultural Studies at the University of Sussex. He is the author of a number of books about children, childhood and reading and has also written for children. His recent publications include The Rough Guide to Children’s Books 0-5 and 5-11 and The Rough Guide to Teenage Books, which he co-wrote with Julia Eccleshare.