Sustainability: A Love Story

 

Nicole Walker, Sustainability: A Love Story, Ohio State University Press, 2018.

     Jill and her husband, Chuck, were Flagstaff icons.  Jill delivered half of the people's babies.  Chuck played music for those babies when they grew up and attended sing-alongs at the library.  He played guitar at the Hullaballoo and guitar at the Concert in the Park. He hosted sing-alongs and bonfires and they both were featured at the Viola Awards in 2013.  I saw them there. They told me they were moving to Portland.
... 

They moved to Portland because Jill would have whole days off. Whole lives without on-call shifts. Chuck could move beyond the local festivals and libraries, play big shows in the bit city.  [131-132].

COMMENT

     This is both a library success and a library failure told in practically the same breath. Sing-alongs at the library are  part of building a resilient community, but Chuck, the musician, can't make a living doing it. His ambition to have a musical career is incompatible with volunteering time at local festivals and libraries. When he decides to move away, the community resiliency of Flagstaff is eroded in order to fortify an already vibrant musical scene in Portlandia.

    Several other library stories view the library similarly as a second-rate stop-gap for things like Internet access, [1] government assistance, [2] or a social support network. [3]   It's a downside to the the library's model of sharing-- things seem to be free that are not really free. Deserving artists don't always get paid. Compromises and inconveniences necessitated by sharing space and resources come to seem like deal-breakers.

     One lesson from this story is that librarians should be mindful to support local artists and performers by hosting readings and performances that give them a chance to sell books and recordings. The Salt Lake Public Library, which has long had a local music collection,. has set up a website called Hear Utah Music (HUM) that streams a curated collection of  songs by Utah artists in order to help support the local music scene.  Maybe this collection will help draw bigger audiences which the bands play a gig so the musicians don't have to move to Portland to live their dream.

 

[1] The Gap in Broadband Access

[2] At Social Security, Service at Arm's Length

[3] Baby Center

Like This or Die

Christian Lorentzen, "Like This or Die: The Fate of the Book Review in the Age of the Algorithm," Harper's, April 2019, p 25-33.

To be interested in literature all you need is a library card. Literature is any writing that rewards critical attention.  It's writing that you want to read and read about. It's something different from entertainment. It involves aesthetic and political judgments and it's not easily quantifiable.  Negativity is part of this equation because without it positivity is meaningless. 

... 

The past two decades have been a phase of upheaval, panic, and collapse.  The crisis of closures that has struck America's regional newspapers hit their books pages first.... But as these losses piled up, it was difficult to feel that something wonderful had been lost, even if it had real value in swaths of the country that were losing many things all at once.  What mattered most were the big city papers, especially the New York Times and, as [Elizabeth] Hardwick wrote, "All those high school English Teachers, those faithful librarians and booksellers, those trusting suburbanites, those bright young men and women in the provinces, all those who believe in the judgment of the Times and who need its direction."

COMMENT

      This view of libraries is contradictory.  All you need is a library card, and yet the librarians are lumped in with those poor provincial souls dependent on Times reviews to know what to read.  The writer, a book critic, wants people to read and appreciate capital "L" Literature and engage with some national community of readers and writers. He pooh-poohs the idea that regional writing matters compared to the 750 or so books reviewed annually in the New York Times Book Review. 

  And yet he knows what's going on in publishing-- "An ever consolidating set of big houses in New York and an ever expanding array of small presses across the country."  Personally,  I find myself  gravitating increasingly towards small publishers such as Milkweed Editions or Torrey House Press, and spending more time with literary journals (I especially like Bicycle Almanac, Dark Mountain,  Orion, saltfront, Sugarhouse Review, and Terrain.org).

     I am a librarian who also writes book reviews but reading this essay I get a sense that I am probably the type of "anti-intellectual" reviewer that Mr. Lorentzen despises.  I got my start writing capsule reviews for Library Journal -- 100 words to let you know whether or not to buy the book.  Nowadays my interests have shifted to poetry and more broadly, environmental humanities.  I read reviews to decide what to read.  I write them becasue I'm convinced that they are an essential part building of a local literary culture, supporting writers and poets whom you can hear at readings and meet at book signing events.  Since small press publications are unlikely to appear in the Times, it's up to us regional  librarians to nurture regional literature.

     Lorentzen sneers a the new Match Book column in the NYTBR that is essentially a readers' advisory -- "The world is full of desperate people." he writes. "Who know they were so desperate for book recommendations? Aren't those easy to come by in any bookstore or on Amazon?"  Well, sure.  Or at the library for that matter. But if people are going to discover literature at the library then the library has to collect literature, and approval plans are not very helpful.  There is a need for librarians to become acquainted with the expanding array of small presses across the country and someone (librarians?) needs to review the books published by them.  Lorentzen is right that the model of a few fancy critics writing for the NYTBR no longer works, but I think he's dead wrong about the irrelevancy of regional and local book reviews.  All those faithful librarians have a gap to fill reviewing, purchasing and collecting literature that's not covered by the NYTBR. 

     

   

Children's Books / Graphic Novels

Victoria Jamieson, “Children’s Books/ Graphic Novels,” New York Times Book Review, March 10, 2019 p. 18.

Craft invites us into the world of Jordan Banks, one of the few African-American students at a fancy private school. As a realistic graphic novel starring a kid of color, “New Kid” is a desperately needed addition to middle-grade library collections everywhere. This funny, heartwarming and sometimes cringe-inducing take on middle school is sure to resonate deeply with its young audience. 

COMMENT

    The reviewer, who is described in a note as “the author and illustrator of several graphic novels for young readers,” imagines this book about a middle-schooler in a middle school library where it could be discovered by kids who would see themselves in the story. This suggestion shows a canny understanding of how library collections facilitate both diversity and self-discovery.  If an adult handed this book to a kid it might be taken as a heavy-handed message.  If kids find it themselves it may seem like it was written just for them.  A savvy librarian might put a book like this on display  in the school library and simply wait for the right kids to find it. 

     

     

Donna Leon [Interview]

“Donna Leon" (By the Book) [interview], New York Times Book Review, March 10, 2019, p. 7.

What kind of reader were you as a child?I loved books about animals (and still do: Sy Montgomery’s “The Soul of an Octopus” [1] is a dream)  and about ancient history. When I was about 7, I complained to my mother that I had nothing to do. She did not hesitate but drove me immediately to the local library and took me to the children’s room and told me I could take home five books. The first was a book about Egypt, with pictures. I remember realizing that the whole world was there, in that small room.

COMMENT

Here’s yet another coming-of-age-at-the-library story — that memorable moment when a child is allowed for the first time to chose her own library books and take them home. Leon's memory of the event is so clear she remembers the details right down to the number of books she was allowed to take and what those books were about.

Leon describes a feeing of awe to think that books contain the whole world. Perhaps it’s not just the knowledge and stories inside of books, but also a newfound sense of responsibility that creates such indelible childhood library memories.  Children given the freedom to choose books are also asked to take care of them and return them on time. In a sense,  the rules of the library make them into guardians of the whole world.

[1] Sy Montgomery, The soul of an octopus: A surprising exploration into the wonder of consciousness. Simon and Schuster, 2015.

Teen Fiction and the Perils of Cancel Culture

Jenifer Senior, “Teen Fiction and the Perils of Cancel Culture,” New York Times, March 10, 2019, p. SF5.

     If the book-buying public had found “A Place for Wolves” as criminally distasteful and insensitive as Twitter did, it would have sunk the novel in slower, more deliberate ways. Librarians would have read it and taken a pass. Bookstore owners would have decided it wasn’t worth the space. Book critics would have savaged it— or worse, ignored it.
     It should have failed or succeeded in the marketplace of ideas. But it was never giver the chance. The mob got to it first.

COMMENT

     The librarian role in this editorial is somewhere between censor and anti-censor— a type of objective reader able to judge the book by literary standards and/or market potential, not a knee-jerk reaction to identity politics. The proposed  antidote to rabid crowd-sourced Internet mobs is a professional class of critics to help sort out literary dross. As a librarian and book reviewer I appreciate the vote of confidence!

     The editorial describes a Twitter mob attack on a YA novel by Kosoko Jackson by people who had never read the book but who objected to the way a particular ethnic group was portrayed. Ironically, Jackson had seen himself as a defender against cultural appropriation, even developing “rules” for writers that claimed fiction must, for some reason, reflect the identity of its author (isn’t that autobiographical non-fiction?):“Stories about the civil rights movement should be written by black people. Stories of suffrage should be written by women. Ergo, stories about boys during life-changing times, like the AIDS epidemic, should be written by gay men. Why is this so hard to get?”

     It’s so hard to get because it is not just wrong but absurdly wrong. Who has authority to declare which contemporary identity groups own which parts of history? Not only does the idea of identity censorship undermine the artistic possibilities of fiction, striving to avoid stereotypes at any cost has the unfortunate side effect of erasing authentic diversity.[1]  If authors were only allowed to write autobiographical fiction about people just like  themselves, we’d just get nothing but segregated books.

     Jackson seems to have fallen into the identity politics trap by assuming that cis-gendered white people are value-neutral regardless of ethnic, national or religious identity. Perhaps that false idea led him all unawares to write about the complicated and violent identity politics of the Balkans, seemingly without po0ndering the meaning of the word “Balkanization.”

[1] See: Autism as Metaphor.  Which is worse? To find people like you in books reduced to caricature or metaphor? or not to find people like you in books at all? 

How to Tap Your Inner Reader

Gregory Cowles, “How to Tap Your Inner Reader,” (Here to Help), New York Times, March 3, 2019, p3.

     In early high school, my authentic self read a lot of Stephen King. I had always been an avid reader — my mother worked at the local library when I was growing up, so I spent hours there after school, making why way methodically and indiscriminately from shelf to shelf and section to section inhaling it all.
     So when my English teacher asked me during a conversation what I liked to read outside of school, I answered honesty and enthusiastically. And he sneered.
     “I mean, Stephen King is a good story-teller, I suppose,” he said or something like it. “But you’re not going to learn anything about writing from him. Don’t you think you should read more serious authors?”

COMMENT

    The library as an after-school refuge; coming of age through unfiltered reading; discovery of beloved books through browsing; the disapproving (and deeply wrong) adult censorship of childhood reading -- this story has it all!

     Several other writers have related memories of clueless adults criticizing their juvenile reading choices [1] and it's obvious to any reader that these adults were dishing out terrible advice.  Who wouldn't want to write like Stephen King? He literally wrote the book On Writing. [2]

     "It's totally fine to read for pleasure," Cowles advises and he's perfectly right.

    The American Library Association has a Library Bill of Rights  that says, "Books and other library resources should be provided for the interest, information, and enlightenment of all people of the community the library serves." It's an uplifting though,  but the language treats reading as a very serious pursuit and glosses over reading for fun.

   Author Daniel Pennac [3] rectified that with a Reader's Bill of Rights that includes "the right to read anything" (#5), "the right to escapism" (#6), "the right to browse" (#8) and "the right not to defend your tastes" (#10).  Go ahead and enjoy Stephen King, and while you're at it you might even learn to be a better writer.

 
[1] What are we Teaching Boys when we Discourage Them from Reading Books about Girls? (librarian says Shannon Hale is not for boys) ; Well Read, Well Known (Teacher says Maya Angelou is not a good writer)...

[2] Stephen King. On writing. Simon and Schuster, 2002.

[3] Daniel Pennac. The rights of the reader. London: Walker, 2006.

A Seat at the Head of the Table

Emily Bazelon, “A Seat at the Head of the Table,” (The Future of Work), New York Times Magazine, Feb 24, 2019, pl. 38-.

BAZELON: Kathy, [Katherine W. Phillips] can we talk about another study you did, showing that black women may be less subject than white women to traditional expectations about femininity. 

PHILLIPS: In this study, we asked people taking an online survey to rate Asian, black and white men and women for their hireability for two jobs: security guard, a traditionally masculine position, and librarian, a traditionally feminine one.  Among other things, we found that black men and women, like white men, were perceived to be good fits for the security-guard position because they’re seen as more traditionally masculine.

COMMENT

      Here a stereotype of librarianship is employed in psychological research. This passage raised so many questions in my mind that I had to look up the article to see what Phillips’ research methodology really was. [1] Why would a highly intellectual (albeit feminized) profession like librarianship be presented as a gender equivalent of being a security guard? Did respondents really view black women as more masculine? Or did they actually stereotype black women as less educated?

    The original article says "We selected positions that exemplified femininity or masculinity, but that steered clear of strong stereotypes that are associated with the stereotypes geared to Asians (e.g., mathematical) and Blacks (e.g., athletic)." The researchers used a Princeton-Trilogy-based scale to identify traits associated with the two professions but there's no list of what those traits were for librarians. The study does acknowledge that "the librarian position may be perceived to be a higher-status position than the security patrol position. Thus, it is plausible that Asians were matched to the higher-status position due to their relatively high socioeconomic status in society."

     This is the job description the study invented for librarians: 

"Librarian. The librarian will work in the campus library. He or she will assist students in finding books and strive to maintain a quiet and serene atmosphere for the comfort of the student body."

     Good grief!

      The notion that librarians enforce silence is especially ironic. Back in the 1980s, librarianship was sold to me as a refuge for smart women who had been shut out of other options due to gender discrimination. For a time, I had wanted to be a scientist or a mathematician, and I was not surprised to find reference in this article to another study that found women with prominent math credentials on their resume are actually less likely to get a job interview.  One might expect that a pink-collar profession would be more female-friendly but I have not found that to be the case in librarianship.  Rather men are disproportionately promoted, and women are criticized for being "uncollegial" if they are assertive.  In librarianship I have encountered mommy-tracking, glass ceilings, sexual harassment, gender bias and policies that actively discourage diversity.  Questions are shut down with calls for "civility."  It's clear that I'm not the only person who has encountered this. After an incident of racist harassment at the 2019 Midwinter meeting of the American Library Association, April Hathcock wrote in her blog,

I know there are members of our profession—mostly white, though not all—who do not like me, do not like that I write and talk about race, do not like the direct and unapologetic way in which I call out systems of racial oppression. They find my work “divisive,” “uncivil,” and “unprofessional.” Some of them are leaders in our profession. Some of them were there sitting quietly as I was being harassed. When they talk about having conversations about “civility and professionalism,” they’re not talking about the inexcusable behavior that happened to me; they’re talking about tone-policing and silencing me.

     The traditional shushing isn't just an intimidation tactic used against noisy patrons.  Librarians use shushing against each other to enforce female stereotypes.

[1]Hall, Erika V., Adam D. Galinsky, and Katherine W. Phillips. "Gender profiling: A gendered race perspective on person–position fit." Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 41.6 (2015): 853-868.