Help Children Understand Mimetic Desire with this Perfectly Pink Picture Book

“Vivi is dizzy with wanting pink. The kind of pink Merilee, Miranda and Wanda have.”

We’ve all been dizzy with wanting something. The opening of Pink, a picture book by children’s author Nan Gregory, is completely relatable.

But notice: Vivi doesn’t want just any pink. Her working class parents, who live in a brown apartment building and work hard “to make ends meet,” are quick to point out all the free pink the world has to offer, from the pink in Vivi’s cheeks to springtime trees and even baby mice ears.

But Vivi wants the perfect pink paraded at school in every shade “from hairbows to tippy toes” on the three cliquish girls Vivi secretly calls “the Pinks.”

Pink contrasts envy and contentment with such skill that although I’ve been reading this book to children every year since its 2007 publication, the intensity of the climax still stabs my heart. 

But ever since I read Luke Burgis’ Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life (one of my favorite books of 2023) I’ve been obsessed with the social insights of French theorist René Girard. So, this year as I read Pink to yet another group of first graders, I was thunderstruck by how powerfully this little children’s book illustrates mimetic desire. And that makes Pink a wonderful book to share with the girls in your life while you examine your own desires through the mimetic lens.

Why is Vivi longing for perfect pink?

Well, according to Girard (whose work Burgis makes accessible in a remarkably engaging way) we humans tend to think of ourselves as complete originals making choices with panache and nonconformity, while in reality we don’t really know what we want until we notice what others want. 

How well I recall my mother’s frustration when she abandoned a ritual she naively set up for my younger brother and me during our little years. Mom hoped to teach us the joy of sharing and taking turns by having us each choose a stuffed animal to cuddle at naptime. Soon she had to face the dismal fact that if my younger brother Danny chose Rick-a-Rock, the panda, I protested that I had wanted Rick-a-Rock. But if she nudged Danny toward Gotch, the Teddy, I would moan that Gotch had been my heart’s desire all along. Parenting is an anthropological field trip.

Burgis explains: “nearly everyone (unconsciously) assumes there’s a straight line between them and the things they want.” We believe our desires are absolutely free and uninfluenced by anyone else. Girard called this phenomenon “The Romantic Lie.”

The truth is that our desires are mediated by models: people, groups, or things that help us know what to want.

That can be helpful or harmful depending who is doing the modeling. The Romantic Lie holds whether we’re choosing a brand, a political party or a wardrobe of perfect pink.

Ever since I encountered Girard’s Romantic Lie, I see mimesis at play everywhere. The uptick in commentary about Girard indicates that many others are seeing it too. It’s an encouraging cultural sign.

But let’s get back to Pink.

One winter afternoon, as Vivi runs an errand for her mother, she sees “a wonder the Pinks don’t have”: a shimmery bride doll in the window of My Little Darling, Gifts for the Fortunate Child. The doll, of course, is pink, and she wants it more than anything. Vivi’s work ethic makes her an admirable role model for children as she announces to her parents that she’s going to “save and save and save” her money until she can buy that doll.

The Romantic Lie is soon exposed when the story takes a very ugly turn.

Wishing to be accepted by the Pinks (who seem oblivious to Vivi’s existence), Vivi ventures a recess conversation by sharing that she has a pink doll. The Pinks circle in, suddenly interested in the girl in the brown coat. If she really has such a doll, they ask, why doesn’t Vivi bring her to school? Vivi holds her ground, saying the doll is still at the store, but she’s getting her.

“What store?” Merilee wants to know.

The kids at my feet gasp in horror every time.

“My Little Darling,” Vivi replies. More gasps.

Nan Gregory knows her craft. Pink is plotted so well that we’re still surprised when our worst fears are realized.

That’s partly because before we get there the story reveals what Vivi’s truck driver dad wishes he could have: a set of lights like the one on a truck he’d seen once on a late-night drive: lights in all colors, “all lit up like fairyland.” But he understands something Vivi has yet to learn. “You just can’t have everything you want. Life isn’t like that.”

I’ve spoiled the tale enough already, so I’ll let you experience the ending for yourself. Pink has a beautifully subtle way of revealing what is deep and lasting compared to what is shallow and faddish. Vivi actually has more than the girls with perfect pink, we realize.

Pink (illustrated to perfection by graphic artist Luc Melanson) tells the truth about all of us: we want because others have and we envy when we can’t compete for it.

And if we don’t discern what is of lasting value, receiving it with gratitude, we’ll always be imitating the next crowd of Pinks.

Pink is a powerful book. And not just for little girls. While you read with a child at your side, Pink may have you asking why you want what you want, too.

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You might also enjoy Counteracting the Big Me with Two Frogs and a Toad and Resentment’s Destructive Power: Watching Oppenheimer While Reading René Girard.

Interested in more on Girard? Check out this conversation with Fr. Elias Carr, author of I Came to Cast Fire: An Introduction to René Girard and the documentary Things Hidden: The Life and Legacy of René Girard. I thoroughly enjoyed both.

Do you have a Girard recommendation? Or a children’s book that gets your heart? I’d love to hear from you!

Photos by Inna Sleptsova on iStock and XINYI SONG on Unsplash.