My favorite story about empathy is "The Book," by James Marshall. I think of it often in this house, when we're imploring Josh not to grab or swat at his sister, and we're forgetting to consider J's point of view.
Sometimes, in my son's world, his sister is a usurper; all was well, and then Susie arrived, and an unwanted contest popped up. And who is to say this won't happen again, and again? We're asking for a great deal of depth and reflection from one growing three-year-old brain.
In "The Book," George can't read because Martha is making chit-chat. The one sentence George digests, on the page, is this: "We must show consideration for our friends. Sometimes, we might forget to imagine their perspective."
Drunk with rage, George believes that this line is a strong defense of his own right to be frustrated. He confronts Martha with the text. But, before he can speak, Martha says, "I'm sorry to talk so much. I was just lonely and bored." And George shuts his mouth. He realizes that the inconsiderate friend *isn't* Martha. George understands that he really needs to have a talk with George.
It's likely George and Martha haven't resolved all issues, at the end of the story; we see them continuing to pick at each other, in sequels. But they have this little half-minute of grace. This seems like an accurate and surprising portrait of family life -- a subtle work of art.
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