Is there any torment quite like World Book Day for parents of primary school children? Now that my daughter has moved on to secondary school, I am mercifully free of the annual ordeal. But for those still in the trenches, the struggle is real. It begins when they are toddlers, with parents desperately cobbling together a Christopher Robin ensemble—raincoat, umbrella, teddy bear—and trudges on through the years, culminating in a sea of Marcus Rashford-wannabe footballers (because, of course, he once wrote a self-help book). Meanwhile, the laziest of the lot still default to Roald Dahl’s Matilda—undeniably simple: just grab a pile of books, a sweater, and a skirt, and you’re done.
But does any of this actually get children reading? Or is it just an annual exercise in parental panic, hot glue guns, and last-minute Amazon Prime orders?
The narrow canon of acceptable costumes
One of the greatest ironies of World Book Day is the sheer lack of imagination when it comes to character choices. Despite the vast literary landscape available, children inevitably end up drawn from the same tired pool: Roald Dahl, David Walliams, Harry Potter, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Where are the Gulliver’s Travels get-ups? No tiny adventurers from Swallows and Amazons, no small detectives from Emil and the Detectives? Treasure Island would be an easy one—just throw on an eyepatch and find a toy parrot. But no, the costumes are depressingly predictable.
And now, in a bizarre attempt to counteract the over-commercialisation of the day (some parents reportedly spend an average of £19 per costume), some schools have taken a novel approach: ditching character-based dress-up altogether. Instead, children are encouraged to dress as a word from a book. Any word. Which, let’s face it, only makes things worse.
The madness of ‘dressing as a word’
This new twist has not simplified matters; it has, in fact, made them even more convoluted. Now, rather than simply rifling through the dressing-up box for a wizard’s robe or a cat’s ears, parents must navigate an entirely new level of chaos.
A friend recently recounted how her son initially wanted to be the Sun (easy enough—yellow suit, job done), only to change his mind to a watermelon the night before (cue frantic cutting of green and red cardboard). Then, on the morning of the big day, he was back to being the Sun again. His brother, at least, made life easier—he picked gold from a book about the Loch Ness Monster’s treasure, which required minimal effort.
But let’s be honest: this isn’t about children developing a love of literature. It’s yet another way for competitive parents to outdo each other, another battleground for the Tiger Mothers to dominate while the rest of us are left drowning in PVA glue and despair.
A festival rooted in good intentions—gone horribly wrong
Ironically, the origins of World Book Day are far more dignified. The idea dates back to the 1920s, when Spanish bookseller Vicente Clavel proposed it as a tribute to Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote. It was meant to be a celebration of great literature, akin to Bloomsday’s homage to James Joyce.
However, the United Nations took hold of the concept in 1995 and transformed it into the modern monstrosity we now endure. Three decades on, it’s become less about books and more about parents frantically fashioning costumes out of bin bags.
A better way forward
What we need isn’t a single day of frantic costume-making, but a sustained, meaningful effort to encourage reading all year round. Many primary schools incorporate read-aloud sessions in the early years, but this tends to drop off as children move through the system. By the time GCSEs come around, most students are only engaging with books on a need-to-know basis, cramming A Christmas Carol without ever delving into another Dickens novel.
If we want to instil a lifelong love of literature, we should be fostering an environment where reading is seen as a joy, not a chore. That means keeping storytelling alive throughout a child’s education—not just through textbooks, but through a diverse range of books that excite, challenge, and inspire them.
The rise of audiobooks—and why that’s perfectly fine
One promising trend is the increasing popularity of audiobooks among children. Some traditionalists scoff at the idea of “listening” rather than reading, but oral storytelling has been at the heart of human culture since the days of Homer. The Victorians read aloud to one another, and children today are absorbing Little Women or The Moomins in much the same way. If audiobooks help foster a love of stories, then why not embrace them?
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What about the adults?
The real tragedy of World Book Day is that it focuses entirely on children—when, in reality, the ones who need the reading nudge the most are the adults. A shocking statistic reveals that four in ten Britons haven’t read a book in the last year. And of those who have, many are opting for titles that are, frankly, unworthy of the effort (fantasy porn à la Sarah J. Maas, for example, or the latest from Sally Rooney).
If we really want to celebrate literature, we should be focusing on everyone. Reading should be part of daily life, not just a once-a-year spectacle involving cardboard and glue.
It’s time to retire world book day
So here’s a radical idea: let’s scrap World Book Day. Let’s stop the last-minute panic-buying of costumes, the desperate scouring of Pinterest for ideas, and the inevitable stress it brings to parents. Instead, let’s normalise reading as an everyday pleasure.
After all, you can pick up a classic by Muriel Spark or Evelyn Waugh for as little as £2.50 in a second-hand bookshop. A brand-new PG Wodehouse paperback costs about £8.99. It’s one of the most affordable and rewarding escapes from reality that exists.
So let’s stop making a spectacle of literature for one chaotic day a year—and start integrating it into daily life, for children and adults alike.
