Lisa's Blog

The Floating Lush linked to this fun avatar creation website, Build Your Wild Self, sponsored by the New York Zoos and Aquarium.

I always think creating avatars is a hoot, and this one is especially cute—not to mention fits right in with our summer reading club theme, Read on the Wild Side!

Looks a lot like me in real life, come to think of it... (That's my Harry Potter shirt!)

ETA, 7/3/09:
Okay, this is way too much fun.

Andrew Karre points to this obnoxious article in School Library Journal: "Tough Love: An Open Letter to Kids' Book Publishers," by Diantha McBride.

McBride does begin by saying these are her suggestions of things she wishes publishers would do differently; fair enough. But I wish she'd taken a more straight-forward approach. Some of her suggestions are ones I think most librarians would get behind. Others are just her own pet peeves, but the article's snarky, know-it-all tone gives the impression that they are universal truths recognized by librarians everywhere. And that puts me off. Because that just ain't so. Quite the contrary.

First, though, two points I strongly agree with.

"1. Bulk up those bindings." Yes—especially for books expected to sell big. If they sell big, they'll circulate big. Of course, the cheap glue of graphic novels is the worst. A library that can afford to replace those copies will, of course. But so many don't have the budget.

"3. Give that cover a makeover." Aside from books that are simply old and worn, the books that circulate least are the ones with unappealing covers, especially those using dark or drab colors, "ugly" people (I'm not getting all Seventeen here, I mean paintings that make ordinary characters look strange), and quiet landscapes that don't feature people or animals.

Okay, now the major disagrees.

"2. Better editing." This is the one Andrew addresses so eloquently, so I won't rehash it. Suffice it to say: I agree with him. I've read plenty of books that I thought were overlong (*cough* The Sweet Far Thing *cough* Breaking Dawn *cough* The Amber Spyglass *cough*), but I've also read plenty of long books that were just as long as they needed to be.

Sure, we want well-edited books, but how exactly is page length the measure of good editing? Some readers, young and old, love to be absorbed in epic tales that go on for hundreds or thousands of pages, across dozens of volumes. The equation of "good" with "short" only works when you're a struggling reader or you've got a book report due the next morning. Neither is a universal truth.

Subset of item 3: "Please, no more stupid titles." IMNSHO, stupid titles are the ones that misrepresent a book's contents. Good titles are the ones that, in combination with an intriguing cover, make the potential reader want to know more. How, then, is How Could You Do It, Diane? a "stupid title"? Do what? I'd love to know! Judging by her examples, McBride seems to think that "stupid titles" are long titles. But based on her opinion of long books, I suppose that's no surprise.

"5. More boy books." There are so many problems with McBride's argument here. First, the erroneous implication that there's a shortage of children's books with male main characters. Seriously, librarians, booksellers? Back me up: when's the last time you had trouble coming up with a boy-centered novel to sell a reader? Second, the implication that these "boy books" must be novels, when studies have repeatedly shown many male readers' preference for nonfiction and alternative media.

But what really boils my blood is that McBride's argument is slavishly patriarchal. We live in a society, in a world, where men (especially white men; especially Christian white men; etc.) are given the greatest privilege. Is the reason boys won't read about girls, but girls will read about boys (a common, but in my opinion fallacious, argument) because of cootie-phobia? No. It's because our culture values boys more than girls, just as our culture values white people more than black people. (And my library's disproportionately poor circulation of books with African-American characters shows it.) And librarians, teachers, and parents reinforce that preference over and over and over with sexist reader's advisory.

Thank goodness we have Diantha McBride to advise us. She tells us, "I've noticed that lots of books with female characters aren't really about being female," and offers examples of novels with strong female characters that could have had male protagonists instead. Hey, listen up writers and editors! Any book that doesn't specifically deal with breasts and periods and pretty, pretty princesses should be about boys. Because boys don't see themselves reflected in literature, film, politics, science, or sports nearly enough. Because boys are the default. Because we're lazy slaves to the patriarchy.

Excuse me while I barf.

Look, I appreciate McBride's plea for more books geared toward reluctant readers—assuming that's what she's really getting at with her comments on page length and "boy books." (I strongly suspect it is.) But that's it's own issue, a subset of what children's publishing really needs. We need more well-edited books, whatever their length. We need short page-turners, long thought-provokers, and everything in between. We need more books about strong boys and strong girls, whether or not they're about "being male" or "being female"—likewise, books starring ethnic minorities, sexual minorities. We need books packed with action; we need books examining character and identity. We need fiction and nonfiction. We need it all.

Basically, children's publishers? Please keep responding to the broad and varied needs of today's diverse young readers. That's it. That's all I ask.

ETA, 7/1/09:
After this knicker-twisting experience, my final patron brought my evening to a most satisfying conclusion. This seventh grade boy, avid fantasy reader, walked away with The Hero and the Crown and The Will of the Empress—books by two foremost women writers of fantasies starring kick-ass women—and didn't betray a single misgiving about the protagonists being female. Booyah.

For the record, I am not one of those librarians who believes children need to be "protected" from the realities so gently and naturally portrayed in such books as And Tango Makes Three and In Our Mothers' House. There are different kinds of families out there. Some of them have two moms or two dads. The end. It's not nearly as hard as some people make it out to be.

So when I say I have a problem with the new picture book Dottie the Sock: How I Found My Match, by Christine Gayle (self-published, 2009), it's not a moral one. No, it's a problem keeping a straight face. I'm sorry, but I cannot read, speak, or even think the words "lesbian sock" without dissolving into laughter.

I'll even ignore, for the moment, that clothing has no innate sex or gender, much less desire. I'm a fantasy reader. I can suspend my disbelief. But consider this: most socks are worn in matched pairs. I guess I've always thought of socks as identical twins rather than romantic couples, but assuming the latter, wouldn't it be the norm for socks to be (to borrow a coworker's expression) homosoxual? Heterosoxuals would be the odds ones out.

Or maybe, just maybe, that's point. I'll have to suspend further judgment until I meet Dottie for myself.

(Via AfterEllen.)

This post from the always-amusing blog (The Customer Is) Not Always Right amused me: An Offering to the Literary Gods.

You know, I could do with a nice, crusty loaf of bread right about now. Patrons? Hello?

But skip the flowers. My allergies are driving me crazy as is.

Overheard in the chapter book area...

Child: Oh NO!!! Ricky Ricotta's robot won AGAIN!!! I HATE that!!! Why does Ricky's robot ALWAYS win??? These books are STUPID!!! I'm NEVER going to read another one again!!! I mean, SOMETIMES I want Ricky's robot to win... but not ALWAYS!!!

[And so on for several minutes...]

Mother: You're taking this awfully hard, dear. Why don't you pick out some other books instead?