American Dirt is Proof that the Publishing Industry is Broken

David Bowles, "American Dirt is Proof that the Publishing Industry is Broken, New York Times,  January 27, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/27/opinion/american-dirt-book.html

     The white saviorism is tough for me to swallow, and not just because I’m a Chicano writer critical of “American Dirt.” My hometown library was chosen in late 2019 to be part of a pilot partnership between Oprah’s Book Club, the American Library Association and local library book groups. The libraries would receive several boxes of books to use with patrons in their book club, as well as other discussion and promotional materials. 

     Last week I was in touch with Kate Horan, the director of the McAllen Public Library here, via phone and email. She told me she felt “excited and honored” by the news, “proud that our library on the border with Mexico was recognized and selected to be part of a new initiative.”

     No one at the library knew which book had been selected: Ms. Winfrey keeps titles a tightly guarded secret. But Ms. Horan was told that it would be “the most talked about book of the year.” Instructions were given: Upon arrival of the shipment, the library should film an “unboxing” video and submit it to Ms. Winfrey.

     The boxes arrived on Jan. 17. Upon opening them, Ms. Horan said, her “heart sank,” and she immediately recoiled at this “deliberate assumption that libraries on the border, who were selected to receive the books, would be automatic endorsers, given the subject matter.”

     She sent the unboxing video off, and after two agonizing days consulting with her predominantly Latinx staff and others, she decided to send the books back, and politely declined to participate in the pilot program.

COMMENT

   This is a sticky issue and not as simple as the op-ed writer wants it to be. Accusations of "cultural appropriation" seem to me to be a red herring.  The real problem with the "American Dirt"  seems to be that it has been heavily marketed as your next book club read yet according to to the critics (who all dutifully reviewed it), it's not actually very well researched or written.

    In many of the library stories I've collected on this blog, readers describe a transformative experience of finding people like themselves in the pages of library books.  It's a reasonable guess that people in the U.S. borderlands might enjoy reading a novel located there. At the same time, I remember hearing a librarian complain that when she gathered books for imprisoned black men people would donate "Black Like Me," which is actually an autobiography about a white man traveling through the South in blackface, albeit with an intention for the reader to develop empathy for "the other."   The publishers who promoted "American Dirt" similarly thought the novel might promote white empathy by focusing on a Mexican woman who is a lot like a middle class white American woman. The virulent anti-immigrant rhetoric coming from the Trump administration  suggests that now might be the right moment for such a novel.    Positive reviews on Amazon.com indicate that it might even be successful in generating empathy for migrants.  

     Should the librarian have sent the books back?  I assume that the library does offer "American Dirt" for anyone who wants to borrow it.  It's certainly not censorship to pick a different book for a book club.  I agree with the op-ed, though, that the misstep reveals a big problem with centralized book publishing and library acquisitions.  The publisher's marketing division, Oprah's Book Club and ALA missed the mark largely because nobody working there stopped to think that Latinx readers were never the target audience for this book. In fact, it seems unlikely that Oprah (a Black woman originally from Mississippi) is ever going to develop a reading list that is particularly sensitive to U.S. borderlands readers.  The reaction of Latinx library staff suggest that they would really love to have a book club that highlights their own region, featuring  people and situations that are more like their own experience instead of getting stereotyped by someone far away.  That's exactly why libraries need to pick their own books instead of outsourcing those decisions.

I've actually written an article about this:  "Re-Localizing the Library: Considerations for the Anthropocene. 
  

   

Larry Kramer

Larry Kramer [By the Book], New York Times Book Review, January 19, 2020.

What kind of reader were you as a child?  Which childhood books and authors stick with you most?
As a kid I as a voracious visitor to Washington's main public library. I loved reading plays that Arena Stage performed across the street.  Plays were more fun to read then.  I also loved the Hardy boys and Nancy Drew series.  Nancy was more fun.

COMMENT

    Hardy boys and Nancy Drew are standard choices, but the plays are not.  It's actually quite difficult to read plays and imagine what they might look like on stage.  Perhaps the fact that Kramer had already seen the plays was helpful.  It must have been fascinating to a kid that you could watch a play and then go across the street to read the source material.

Lessons from 4,800 Pages of History

Dana Goldstein, "Lessons from 4,800 Pages of History," New York Times, January 13, 2020, p. A2.

     About midway through my reporting process, I spent an afternoon at the New York Public Library.  There I reviewed American history textbooks from the 1950s and 1960s.  Their racism in depicting African-Americans, Chinese immigrants and Mexican-Americans  was overt, a reminder of the vastly different history educations received by today's adults-- all of whom, from Generation Z to the Greatest Generation, will be eligible to vote in November 2020.
     It was a reminder that the historical stories we tell have a profound impact on the world. 

COMMENT

    This article describes the research process for a newspaper article about differences in history textbooks used in Texas and California.  
     At the library the author consults  out-of-date textbooks, a kind of material that many librarians would weed without a second thought, particularly since they promote a kind of overt racism that would be entirely inappropriate in the contemporary classroom.  However, the books are valuable precisely because they demonstrate pedagogical history and changing attitudes.   The writer believes that knowledge of history informs voting and civic engagement,  with the implication that the racism taught in the classrooms of the past may have created a cohort of racist voters.   If we threw those outdated books away it would be hard to remember how kids learned history so many decades ago.


   

Bypassing Legislature

Norman Anderson III, "Bypassing Legislature," Salt Lake Tribune [Opinion, LTE], January 11, 2020, p. A10.

      There was a line of people at the Millcreek library for several days last week.  Just ordinary people waiting to sign the latest referendum petition, a referendum on the tax plan recently passed with little discussion by the Utah Legislature.  It is almost a certainty that there were lines at other petition signing locations, as well.

COMMENT

    The public library offers a place for citizens to sign a petition against an unpopular new law that raises taxes on food and services and seems likely to cut tax revenues for education. If enough signatures are gathered citizens will get a chance to vote on the law.  This letter to the editor says that people were lining up at the library to add their signature.  It's yet another way libraries can promote civic engagement, and maybe a few of those voters also went home with something to read.

The Love Song of T.S. Eliot

Maria Cramer, "The Love Song of T.S. Eliot," New York Times, January 6, 2020, p. C3.

   As planned, his estate released the statement on Thursday, coinciding with Princeton University Library's announcement the more than 1,100 letters the poet had written to Hale were finally available for public viewing.

     Hale gave the letters to Princeton in 1956 with the instructions that they be opened 50 years after both she and Eliot had died. ([Emily] Hale died in 1969, four years after Eliot).
     The relationship between the two has long been a source of speculation among literary scholars, who have known for decades of the letters' existence.  the letters were freed in October from wooden boxes bound with copper straps and ties before a small group of Princeton professors at the university's Firestone Library.
...
     The letters in the collection, which also includes photographs, ephemera and a brief narrative in which Hale describes her relationship with Eliot, are available for viewing only at the Firestone Library and will not be published online until at least 2035 when they are no longer under copyright.

COMMENT

     These days it's astonishing to think of someone writing 1,100 letters on paper and mailing them to someone.  Hale knew the letters had value since Eliot was famous in his own time.  Scholars have been waiting for 50 years to open those boxes and start the search for hidden treasure. 

    The library made a small ceremony of the opening, and also made the New York Times.  Having famous, mysterious materials is good publicity for a library.  Nonetheless, copyright prevents digitization.  If you want to read them, you'll have to go to Princeton. 

Robert Caro's Papers Find a Home

Jennifer Schuessler, “Robert Caro’s Papers Find a Home,” New York Times, January 9, 2020, p. C1. 

     The books are already monumental.  And now Mr. Caro is getting monumental treatment himself.
     The New-York Historical Society has acquired Mr. Caro’s papers  — some 200 linear feet of material that will be open to researchers in its library.  And just a as important to the 84-year-old Mr. Caro, it will create a permanent installation int its museum galleries dedicated to showing how he got the job done.

...

     The archive will be among the largest of an individual in the historical society's collection.  It includes research notes, drafts, annotated news clippings, correspondence, and other documents, from once-classified memos excavated at the L.B.J. Presidential Library to at least one artifact literally coaxed out of a secret trunk. 

COMMENT

     The article describes an archival collection acquired by a special library.  The collection originates from a research strategy that includes library research as well as other kinds of documentation.

     The article also describes Caro’s research process as “a kind of museum of a vanishing analog world.”  As a consequence of his careful gathering, his research materials can now be used by other historians.  This kind of idiosyncratic individual collecting stands in contrast to automated approval plans the mean every library buys the same things. There’s a photo of a typewriter, and the article says he has more than one just in case he needs spare parts. 

N. Mexico Author Delivers Books to Migrants

Angela Kochera, "N. Mexico Author Delivers Books to Migrants," Salt Lake Tribune (original to Albuquerque Journal), January 7, 2020, p. A6.

     Along with giving books to migrant children and their families, the book drive helps a small library that serves children in Mexico living in Anapra.
     Chavez, Lenander and volunteers with the Border Servant Corps make monthly visits to the Biblioteca para la Vida to participate in Saturday morning storytelling sessions.
     "The kids will come in their pajamas and just put blankets and pillows all over the floor," Lenander said.
    In December, the children each got their own book bag with a book and toy and celebrated the season with a piñata shaped like a big book.  Chavez read from "Dragones y Tacos" during he Christmas party as the kids munched on tacos. 

COMMENT

    The article describes a project called Libros para el Viaje that collects books in English, Spanish and Portuguese for migrants at the U.S./Mexico border.  Part of the project is a children's library located in Mexico that offers story time, community, food, books to keep and a small sense of normalcy for migrant children.  The books help migrants pass the time,  and provide language practice, but most importantly they are a deeply humane gift.
    The Biblioteca para la Vida provides an opportunity for volunteers to hold story time.  The books and stories become a connection between people who might otherwise never meet each other.

Fresh Litter

"Fresh Litter," (Talk of the Town), New Yorker, December 23, 2019, pp. 31-32.

The source material "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," is a collection of poems that T.S. Eliot wrote for his godchildren. "The poems were written in the nonsense tradition," Carolyn Vega, the curator for the Berg Collection, at the New York Public Library, explained recently.  Sara Beth Joren, publicist for the library chimed in: "And that's why when people hate on 'Cats' -- like "Oh there's no plot.' It's just like, 'Yeah, there wasn't supposed to be'. And anyway, there is a plot. There's a cat trying to get to the Heaviside Layer.  That's a plot.
     The two women were waiting for Francesca Hayward, one of the stars of the "Cats" movie.  Hayward, a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet, plays Victoria, a graceful white cat -- her first film role.  Vega was ready to give Hayward a quick Eliot lesson; she had brought out a first edition of "Old Possum" and some photographs of the poet. 

COMMENT

      An actor in need of information about her role consults a librarian.  Sure, there is plenty about T.S. Eliot on the Internet, but it could be quite a slog to discover how we got from Eliot the poet to the musical "Cats."  The librarian helps zero in on the nonsensical origins of what is, after all, a distinctly nonsensical musical.   Hayward reacts appropriately to the first edition, experiencing that spooky sense of history that is connected to physical artifacts.

Barbara Testa dies at 91

Katherine Q. Seelye, “Barbara Testa Dies at 91: A Discovery in Her Attic Rocked the Literary World,” (Obituaries) New York Times, January 3, 2020, p. A21.

    The story began in the 1880s with her grandfather, James Fraser Gluck, a lawyer who was also the curator of the library in Buffalo N.Y., now called the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library.  He was a collector, and he aggressively solicited autographs and writings from contemporary authors, all of which he donated to the library.    Over the years, he had collected manuscripts from some of the biggest names in 19th-century letters, among hem Walt Whitman, Henry James and Louisa May Alcott.  He also had snippets from Hawthorne, Thoreau, Emerson, Poe, Keats, Shelley and Dickens.
     Mr. Gluck established a pen-pal relationship with Samuel L. Clemens — better known as Mark Twain — and at one point asked him for the manuscript for “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” a novel that had shaken the rafters of the literary world when it was published in 1884.

COMMENT

    Long story short, Clemens sent Gluck his handwritten manuscript, but half of it was lost until Testa found it in the Attic in 1990.  She was in need of money and wanted to sell it, but the library filed suit, arguing that Clemens gave the manuscript to the library.  Still, the library paid $1 million to settle. 

    This is another collection development story in which a librarian follows a personal obsession rather than following an arbitrary standard of popularity or high circulation.  I believe that libraries should do more to deliberately support this kind of personal collecting which can produce extremely valuable and unusual collections.  One possibility would be to assign each librarian a small personal collection development fund to be spent on whatever they think would be good to have in the collection. 

Educated

Tara Westover, Educated: A Memoir, 2018.

Sometimes, when she was delivering herbs, if we’d finished our chores, Mother would  drop us at the Carnegie library in the center of town.  The basement had a room full of children’s books, which we read.  Richard even took books from upstairs, books for adults, with heavy titles about history and science.    Learning in our family was entirely self-directed: you could learn anything you could teach yourself, after your work was done.  Some of us were more disciplined than others. I was one of the least disciplined, so by the time I was ten, the only subject I had studied systematically was Morse code because Dad insisted that I learn it.  [p.46-47]

...

     I stared at them as if they were behind glass. I’d never heard anyone e use the word “feminism” as anything but a reprimand. At BYU, “You sound like a feminist” signaled the end of the argument.  It also signaled that I had lost.
     I left the café and went to the library.  After five minutes online and a few trips to the stacks, I was sitting in my usual place with a large pile of books written by what I now understood to be second-wave writers — Betty Friedan, Germaine Greer, Simone de Beauvoir.  I read only a few pages of each book before slamming it shut.  I’d never seen the word “vagina” printed out, never said it aloud.
     I returned to the Internet and then to the shelves, where I exchanged the books of the second wave for those that preceded the first— Mary Wollstonecraft and John Stuart Mill.  I read though the afternoon and into the evening, developing for the first time a vocabulary for the uneasiness I’d felt since childhood. [pp. 258-259].

COMMENT

   The first story from Westover’s childhood describes using the children’s collection as a kind of babysitter.  The kids were inconsistently homeschooled, and the shelf of library books didn’t compensate for a lack of educational direction.

    In the second library story Westover is enrolled in college and realizing how many things she doesn’t know about.  This time the library reveals its secrets. The books offer a vocabulary to talk about feminism that was not available in small town Idaho nor at a Mormon religious university. 

American Gods

Neil Gaiman, American Gods. Tenth Anniversary Edition. Author's preferred text. 2011.

     "Hinzelmann, have you heard of eagle stones?"
     "Up north of Rhinelander? Nope, that's Eagle River. Can't say I have."
     "How about Thunderbirds?"
     "Well, there was the Thunderbird Framing Gallery up on Fifth Street, but that closed down.  I'm not helping, am I?"
     "Tell you what, why don't you go look at the library.  Good people, although they may be kind of distracted by the library sale on this week. I showed you where the library was, didn't I?"
     Shadow nodded and said so long.  He wished he'd thought of the library himself.  [p.372]

COMMENT

      The entire library episode actually extends from p. 372-377 -- too long for me to type out.  What does Shadow do at the library?  He requests a library card,  has a discussion with a librarian about a man who stole rare library books, researches Native American traditions, talks to a neighbor and purchases weeded library books at the library book sale.  
     Two of these book sale books are probably perfectly appropriate to weed, but one of them should certainly have been kept in the collection unless it was a duplicate-- Minutes of the Lakeside City Council, 1872-1884.  If this was indeed the only copy of local history it was completely irresponsible for librarians to send it to the book sale.  However, the contents of this imaginary book turn out to be a plot point since is contains evidence about children killed by a resident demon.  In real life Gaiman is an outspoken supporter of libraries. As a writer, he had to to betray the librarians and send this particular  book to the book sale in order to give his character  more time to read it.  

As the Ball Dropped, Our Life Fell Apart

Tammy Rabideaum, "As the Ball Dropped, Our Life Fell Apart," (Modern Love) New York Times, December 29, 2019, p.ST5.

     During Kristils' freshman year of high school, she announced that she wanted to attend a high-level college and began searching what was needed to be accepted. One summer day we drove to the library to pick up books she had on order. Awaiting us were three bins and some 60 books, many of them "how-to" manuals on getting straight A's, mastering standardized tests and winning admission to Ivy League schools.
     At home, Kristil lined them up in stacks along her bedroom wall, then mapped out her reading and study plan for the summer. 

COMMENT

     Despite a period of homelessness, Kristil eventually ends up at Barnard College with a full scholarship.  Some librarians are skeptical when a student like Kristil checks out more books than a person could reasonably read.  This story illustrate that someone who checks out a lot of books might actually be using them.  The librarians would surely be pleased to know how their library books helped get their borrower into the college of her dreams.

Sad Buildings in Brooklyn

Adam Gopnik, "Sad Buildings in Brooklyn: Scenes from the Life of Roz Chast," New Yorker, December 30, 2019, p, 32-

     "My mother didn't let me read comics growing up. She thought comics were morally low rent, for morons.  Superheroes, cartoons, animation-- didn't matter.  I had to go to a friend's house to look at comic books."  She points to two sources as essential to turning her love of drawing into there vocation as a cartoonist. One was Addams' work (from this magazine), which she first encountered as a child in the nineteen-sixties. "'Black Maria,' 'The Goaning Board,' 'Monster Rally,' 'Drawn & Quartered,'" she says rapturously reciting titles of Addams collections.  "These are books that I discovered at the browsing library at Cornell.  My parents used to go to Ithaca in the summer-- they lived in student quarters and it was cheap.  There were other Brooklyn school-teachers, mostly Jewish, mostly without children.  When my parents took me, they let me hang out."

COMMENT 

     This is the tale of the life-changing book, but also a coming of age when the unsupervised child discovers the books her parents won't let her read.   The library is also a refuge where a teenager with no friends can hang out.  

      The life-changing book is a classic, but at the Cornell Library it was in the browsing collection-- labeled as something just for fun.  Still, it works its magic, starting a girl down her career path.