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Author: Anthea Weinerlein (School Principal)

When I think back to my childhood, one book stands like a tall tower in my memory: The Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton. That magical tree, with its ever-changing lands and quirky inhabitants, was more than just a story. It was a gateway into lives unlike my own, into worlds beyond the reach of my small hands. Each page taught me something fundamental: the ability to feel for others, to imagine their fears, joys, and struggles. That, in essence, is empathy.

Learning empathy through characters

I remember Dame Washalot, busy, fussy, and quick to scold, sending her soapy water tumbling down the tree. The chaos that followed made me laugh, but I also felt the indignation of those below. I was learning how easily one person’s impatience can spill into another’s day. Even in playfulness, stories teach children micro-lessons in cause and effect.

Then there was Saucepan Man, clanging and clattering, shouting to be heard above his own noise. He was funny, but also endearing. His noisy armour was his way of coping. How many children have met a Saucepan Man in real life, a classmate who is loud or awkward, not out of defiance, but out of struggle? Stories help us meet difference with curiosity and grace.

And of course, Silky the Fairy and Moonface, kind, generous, and joyful. Their friendship wasn’t explained; it was shown. These characters made kindness attractive, not because an adult said it was “good,” but because we saw how it softened conflict. Stories like these let children feel the beauty of goodness, not just hear about it.

Expanding empathy through diverse literature

As I grew older and climbed down from the Faraway Tree, my reading continued to grow me. I encountered Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton and Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, which allowed me to see life in Africa through the eyes of the colonised and the silenced. I read fictional retellings of the Second World War and the devastation of the Holocaust. I read Susan Abulhawa’s Mornings in Jenin, which opened my eyes to the plight of children who have never known life outside a refugee camp. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini made me grieve for those living under the tyranny of extremism in all its forms. Each story sharpened my understanding and stretched my heart.

The importance of empathy for children today

Empathy feels almost like a lost art. Yet it is exactly what our children need to navigate a world marked by pain and division. And empathy isn’t taught through lectures or worksheets. It’s cultivated through experience. Reading is that safe experience, a rehearsal for life’s complexities.

Today’s world is wired for speed. We scroll. We swipe through feeds that serve bite-sized headlines and quick opinions. In this world of immediacy, what’s often lost is depth. We live in an age of instant reactions, likes, shares, outrage in 140 characters. But empathy is slow. It requires us to imagine, to question, to linger with discomfort. Reading trains that muscle. And in those quiet, tender moments, heart to page, reader to character, empathy takes root.

Research supporting literary fiction and empathy

Now, in case you think I’m hallucinating in my Faraway Tree about the connection between fiction and empathy, a growing body of research says otherwise. Keith Oatley, professor emeritus of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto, states that “literary fiction is essentially an exploration of the human experience.” Psychologist William Chopik of the University of Michigan adds that fiction “exposes us to uncomfortable ideas,” but in “a safe, distanced way,” providing “a playground for exercising empathic skills.”

Final thoughts

I’ll give the last word to James Baldwin, who shaped not only my thinking, but my very being. He wrote: “It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive or who had ever been alive.”

Let’s pass that gift on. Let’s encourage our children to read deeply, widely, and often. Let them discover that stories are not only a refuge but a bridge. Because in a world as divided and distracted as ours, reading may just be the most human thing we can still do.

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