Are more sensationalist articles going to surface in the name of attracting crowds and building page hits? Probably. Sure. But instead of reheating leftover debates, here is a form letter to address any future intellectual laziness:

Dear Sir/Madam,

You recently criticized (author/book/genre) as being too (violent/sexual/shocking/mediocre) for teenagers to read. However, you cited very little evidence in your article (popularity-hungry column) about why this is so. I suggest that when you criticize someone else’s work and an object of literary affection to many, that you show proof of your total experience with the work. Otherwise, you look like a (fool/jerk/yapping chihuahua) in search of a (victim/righteous cause/witch hunt), and that image does not do justice to your cause.

I understand that you are concerned for the media offered to young people these days; we all are. But the issue is not so black and white as you portend it to be. Instead of trying to demand the removal of certain materials, why not simply promote what you believe to be good? You have an outlet for your writing; use it to encourage a (love/lifetime/variety/trust) of reading, and not (fear/avoidance/refusal/anxiety).

The next time you feel the urge to (share/condemn/appreciate) authors or their works, please read the related books in their entirety and consider the full context of the work. There are multitudes of readers groups and librarians online who would love to start a discussion with you.

Sincerely,

People Who Take Books Seriously

Operators of Shonen Jump,

I am a public librarian in charge of teen services. Among my responsibilities is providing periodicals of interest to the teen demographic. Shonen Jump has consistently been one of the most-read publications for my library’s teens. Every time I was asked whether to renew the library’s subscription to Shonen Jump, I immediately confirmed. Shonen Jump has served as a launching point among teens in the library for socializing, as well as a means of discovering the library’s manga collection, much of which is comprised of titles published by Viz.

Your pending shift to a digital-only format makes perfect business sense. I am glad that you are able to expand your access and speed up your publishing timeframe to meet the demands of today’s readers. But what is the best method for libraries to provide access? After the April 2012 issue, what should I tell my teens, especially those without means to cross the digital divide? Is the library’s subscription applicable to them at all? Am I within my rights to share the library’s login information for patrons to read Shonen Jump on library computers? Should I print out pages from the app as “reference copies?”

The readers generated and encouraged by the library grow your fanbase and, ultimately, revenues. The print subscription to Shonen Jump has been a win-win for both our organizations – I have witnessed teens gain interest in your series via the print magazine, talk to other teens in the library about manga, and end up purchasing manga series for themselves as a result. I am eager to continue planting the seed of interest, but require your cooperation to make that happen as content delivery formats change.

I look forward to your response and suggestions.

[SPOILER ALERT: this blog post contains spoilers for The Chocolate War, Leviathan, and The Forest of Hands and Teeth. That's all.]

[RANT ALERT: I pay too much attention to Goodreads reviews. I am not without sin, but check out my rock collection!]

I recently finished The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier and loved it. The various perspectives, moral shades of gray, suspicions playing out in private and in public, and the tight dialog all made the book a joy to read. But when I looked at the Goodreads users’ reactions, a couple of negative comments stuck out:

This first is from Ashley: this book portrays women as nothing but sex-objects (only briefly bringing women or girls into the picture for this purpose), and depicts self-pleasure as normal for teen-age boys, as if they couldn’t possibly resist sexual urges. I would say that at least a contrast between those that have self-control and those that don’t would have made it more realistic to me. If I had read this as a teenage girl, I probably would have felt very degraded and offended (I felt some of that as an adult female reading it actually).

Having read the book, I can testify that there are a few brief mentions of self-pleasure in the book. The book does not portray self-pleasure as something afflicting all of the boys that robs them all of self-control. There is a boy blackmailed with a photo supposedly taken of him when he thought he was alone in a school bathroom, though. So there is a character who lacks self-control but not a sense of privacy.

On to the degrading depiction of women: Ashley’s reaction is fair. There are no girls’ perspectives in the book, only objects leered at by teenage boys. I think that girls who read the book can be shocked by the depiction of girls as objects, and boys as objectifiers. On the other hand the book is about a private school for teenage boys, and boys are girl-crazy enough in regular schools, so an all-boys environment will render them especially appreciative of women’s bodies. As a guy, I appreciated that the book didn’t pretend that high school boys aren’t horny as hell. Have you ever met a teenager? There’s this thing called puberty…

Jeanette also has some bashing to do: I did not care for the theme of the book or most of the action of the book. Much of it was obscene and lacked any good morals what so ever. After reading this cynical and dark story I need to go find something light, fun and easy to read just so I can wash this book out of my brain.

There seems to be a mistake of logic here where Jeanette sees one of morals: a book can have an unhappy ending and still deliver a moral lesson. Portrayals of bad decisions and motives allow people to live vicariously through those characters and see how disastrous those characters’ actions become. Characters in The Chocolate War acknowledge their role in events and what they could have done differently. I agree, though, that the last act in particular is dark to the point of wanting to get away from cynical material for a while. The end note of the book more or less says, “so evil won today and nobody will be punished, thanks for reading!”

Okay. That covers a couple of negative reviews that wanted to see less sex and more morality.

Now I will quote some negative reviews for Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan, which I think deftly crosses between the paired perspectives of its male and female protagonists, Alek and Deryn.

Here’s some gender commentary by Jen: I don’t really buy the fact that a girl dressed as a boy could really fool EVERYBODY. I mean yes, she may fool some people’s eyes but there are other senses. Not mention if she was really 15 she should be way more boy crazy than she is here. Yeah it’s WWI and not modern day but come on she still should have been more noticing of boys. The same goes for Alex despite the grief.

Whenever I see this comment about a YA novel, that the teenage characters should have been lusting after each other more often, I ask, “Where would you put that scene?” Books two and three of the Leviathan trilogy address the blooming relationship that forms between Alek and Deryn, but where in book one would that scene fit? Being a work of fiction, Westerfeld’s book is free to depict his characters’ personalities in service of the story. The Lord of the Rings doesn’t stop every few pages for Gandalf to take a dump.

Reviewer Mrs N gives us a piece of her mind with which I empathize: I am quite tired of historical fiction (usually YA) in which the heroine absolutely hates being female and being forced to wear skirts and corsets and she is simply dying to run around in pants and swear and be a boy and a sailor/soldier/insert physically intense and usually dangerous male role here. I strongly believe that is anachronistic in almost every case. Modern authors think, “How dreadful to be polite and wear a corset! She must want to be a boy!” That is sexist and frankly more than a little Freudian. Apparently authors are the only people still alive who believe that each woman desires a unit of her very own. For heaven’s sake. I think it is lazy writing and a misplaced desire to have a female main character at any cost. Westerfeld, next time just make the main characters both male and spare me the anti-feminine crap.

I know, I know, sexism has dominated world culture for the past forever and dictated the acceptable actions of women in every era and country. But I can definitely see the other shoe dropping and YA lit readers like Mrs N getting bored of every female protagonist being a spitfire, one-of-the-boys type. On the other hand, I think YA lit has plenty of female characters to fit many desired roles, including helpless damsels and debonair socialites, so Mrs N’s commentary, while funny to me as a counter-counter-response to gender roles, is also too broad to stick.

The winning entry for taking Leviathan too seriously goes to Niles Stanley: One of their weapons involves feeding metal spikes to bats, and then guiding the bats over the top of a Clanker target, and then shooting a much more effective, realistic weapon solely to scare the bats, who are trained to all shit at the same time when the sound in heard, and they poop out the spikes onto the target.

I slammed the book shut in frustration when this maneuver was used to WIN an aerial battle against the team that uses armor, engines, and bullets.

What kind of teenager would enjoy the idea of bats shitting spikes into steampunk machines? Ugh, how immature! Teen boys would rather fire bullets into each other’s faces before boning (or holding hands with, depending on how moral physical contact is) their delicate, corseted maidens. A fun, ahistorical adventure with inventive weaponry and a lack of gender stereotyping is just beneath teens!

Before I sign off on a post that takes easy aim at public critics, let me put myself in the bullseye: one of my problems with The Forest of Hands and Teeth was a portion of the book where the teenaged, lusty love interests are stuck in a house together for a number of days and nothing happens between them. The whole period of time is written away in a few paragraphs. I was not expecting a graphic description of teenage sex, nor was I expecting a day-by-day breakdown of the inactive plot. But something had to fill that time! The two characters spend the whole book up to that point pining for each other, and we’re supposed to believe they sit on their hands for over 48 hours as the zombie apocalypse rages outside?

And yet I can forgive that lapse in detail and characterization because the zombie outbreak and bits of the romance were well done. 3/5 stars in my Goodreads review. Oh, well. Everyone’s a critic.

Some time ago, Gretchen over at Librarified posted about what she learned over the course of her first year as a librarian. We both know she’s holding back a novel’s worth of information that would immediately render her a monarch of librarianship, but she loves her midday naps and so spares us her unflinching power.

My one-year anniversary was back in October, and I can say firsthand that I had much more time and pep for blogging a year ago. Now I spend a lot more time reading, which has been a fantastic development. I implore you to join Goodreads and the book conversations. Say hello and share the good and bad reviews with us.

I think a fair idea of how my librarianship has done over the past year is in my library’s anime nights. I will compare the first anime club from a year ago and the recent Halloween meeting.

One of my first goals as an actual-factual, capital-L Librarian of the Teens was to get an anime club going. Not because of any all-important literacy standards or cultural relevance, but because I knew it was the common denominator for attracting the kinds of teens who could easily make time in their schedules for the library, its teen programs, and reading for fun. I knew the anime club had to meet regularly or else I could lose members to the amnesia of a week. The teens had to have a say in what we watched or else they could feel like I was ignoring their tastes and showing them programs “for their own good.” (Am I biased toward certain series and types of series? Yes. Do I shelve those biases in favor of variety and democracy? Also yes.) Snacks would entice the youngsters early on, then socialization and an eagerness to contribute to each week’s meeting would keep them hooked. I had a projector and free reign over my scheduled night shift. The library was about to get cooler!

My lofty ideals kept me from quitting on the first two anime nights, when nobody showed. Nobody! I made an announcement, stuck up a couple of flyers… nobody. Each time I waited 15 minutes in an empty room then put all the dishes and equipment back in storage. Boo hoo, I expected promising gains from minimal effort. But I was also encouraged by the flat response – it meant anything could reverse my fortune. I had team members who offered encouragement, and their positivity lent me momentum. If my team had clucked their tongues and told me the program would never work, there’s no telling how seriously a pair of rookie ears would have taken them.

Fast forward to a year later. I have a core group of teens who asked earlier in the month, and some who waited to be asked, if cosplay the closest night before Halloween could be done (OF COURSE). Some of the teens take piles of handouts advertising the anime club and promise, unbidden, to stuff lockers at school with the colorful paper. Earlier in the night, a teen browsing the manga shelves (manga that had formerly been mixed in with the rest of the graphic novel section) asks about the sign beneath Naruto advertising the club. Nearly a dozen teens arrive in cosplay (and another dozen in plain clothes) and take each other’s photos. I give the cosplayers first dibs on a batch of snickerdoodles I made for them, with enough to spare for my coworkers as well as inquisitive parents.

As we had not come to a conclusive vote last week about what to watch now, I present a menagerie of episodes from different series, all in the Halloween mood. Some of the shows they have heard of, others not, yet they are immersed in each one without prior exposure or having to watch 4 episodes to “warm up” to a cast of characters.

One boy in the group is completely new to the program. His mother usually browses the stacks solo while on break from her job, and eventually the anime club came up in conversation. Her son sits apart from the other kids for a while, but within the hour, he grabs some popcorn and tells me what a good time he’s having with his new friends.

Midway through the shows, I ask if anyone wants to hear a scary story. After I warn everyone of the quite-scary content of the story (and some sheepish kids exit the room and watch through a window), everyone takes turns reading panels of a Korean horror comic. The first time we read through it, everyone shrieks at the jump scares; the second time, they are startled, but laugh. Between the two main scares, I have never heard this crowd so quiet and trained on a story.

When our two hours are up, I remind everyone who would like to keep in touch to add their email address to my contact list so I can tell them about other events at the library. One girl asks me to send more emails about the library. Some teens leave once the lights come up, and others stack their chairs and wipe the tables with automatic manners. We say goodnight to each other by name; some are carrying manga I recommended from the shelves. Others have given me names of series to look up later.

Despite the politeness of some of the teens, a mighty mess remains. My teammates, just as encouraging as on those first unsuccessful nights, are willing to help me straighten out the mess before we close for the night. And every time the room is stripped back to emptiness, I’m grateful for how far the program has come and look forward to where it can go next.

I just read Wonder Struck over the course of a day and posted a slobbering review over at Goodreads. Two additional items of note:

1) When you reach page 509, take a long, deep breath before you turn the page, because the 510 + 511 spread is about to stuff your clever predictions about the story’s path down your cynical throat and present you with a completely rewarding depiction of… well, see for yourself, and if you disagree, then we can agree to disagree about the value of having feelings.

2) There are several positive depictions of libraries and librarians in the book (not that I’m biased or anything), including this passage:

She was unlike anyone he had ever met. He said he always thought librarians were old women in sweaters, but Elaine was very young and beautiful and didn’t care what anyone around her said about her. He used the word ‘radical’ to describe her, meaning, I think, that she lived completely on her own terms, and he loved that about her. His letters called her independent, unwilling to compromise, a woman of the lake and of books.

I know a fair number of librarians who could fit that description (lake proximity notwithstanding), and felt a certain camaraderie upon reading that passage.

Once upon a time, when Facebook was released to the general college population, I would occasionally overhear remarks on the number of friends in someone’s network. Comments like, “All right, I broke 1,000!” or “Geez, he’s only got 40″ reduced social networking to an online popularity contest. Then Facebook really exploded and everyone was concerned with how to mute some voices while amplifying others, and the pissing contests turned into photo albums, employment descriptions, and having the best weekend EVER.

The same pattern struck Twitter, but in a strange way: you could follow as many people as you liked, but unlike Facebook’s two-way friendships, people on Twitter had no obligation to follow you. Faced with uneven following:follower ratios, people accepted the flow of online society and largely disregarded the popularity aspect. Oh sure, reaching a big, round number of followers receives a brief comment, but Twitter is full of spambots and clone accounts, so what’s it really matter?

In the past couple months, I have been watching the rise of Klout, a service that adds up all of the measurable ways in which you affect others online (comments, retweets, likes), and assigns you a score between 1 and 100 to show your impact in your networks. Fair enough; anyone managing a brand or just curious could make good use out of such a service. As Klout says, “ the best way to increase your Score is to consistently create great content that people want to share and respond to,” and measuring what people respond to is a worthy goal.

Except. I have seen some instances of people 1) announcing their Klout score online, followed by 2) asking for others to join and raise that Klout score to increase someone’s standing with… who, exactly? Do these numbers go anywhere? The moment someone tries to artificially inflate a free scoring service, that service loses all value. Klout will also assign categories in which someone is “influential” in their network; the impetus on professionals and businesses to own every word associated with their livelihood should lead to some amusing pissing contests.

My biggest gripe with Klout, then, is that individuals want to utilize it for measuring influence when influence is in our heads and thus cannot be accurately measured. If someone tells the world’s greatest fart joke on Twitter and everyone retweets it and links to it, Klout will declare that person to have massive “klout” and influence in the world of farts, maybe humor. If someone tweets a gentle reminder to find happiness through service to others, and that message is not digitally rebroadcast at all, that doesn’t mean it has no influence. Klout has no way of counting doors held open, time spent listening to someone, or services volunteered toward someone else’s day. As focused on measurable statistics as Klout is, it is blind to real-world results.

If you have something to sell or a message to spread, then okay, Klout can help you tweak how you present yourself. If you’re just a human being ranting and showing off to a small cabal of friends and like-minded neighbors (howdy), then forget the “klout” and be yourself.

There is a contradiction in the messages I hear from fellow librarians. On the one hand, parents are considered to be the final arbiters of what their children are allowed to consume and pursue. On the other, children are supposed to read whatever they want. Isn’t there a way to reconcile these viewpoints? Surely an attentive parent will guide the literary habits of a young child, but as adolescence hits, the needs for privacy and freedom in taste take hold, and attentive parents, while trusting, still want to participate in their kids’ upbringing.

There are websites that offer to help parents navigate the worlds that await children on bookshelves. Pat Scales, chair of the American Library Association’s Intellectual Freedom Committee, wrote a sharp critique of three such sites: Story Snoops, Common Sense Media, and Facts On Fiction. All three sites display mission statements boasting of aiding parents with divining the content and message of books without having to read the whole thing. While parents would ideally read along with or to their children, there are only 24 hours in a day and schedules do not always work out so well. Considering the harsh reputation of the three review sites, I decided to take a page from Scales’s book, sidestep her online reviews, and take a look myself.

My evaluation tool for each site is Stephen Chbosky’s “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” I chose it because the book contains sexual content that does not titillate, drug consumption that does not endorse, and violence that does not excite. In short, the book is a perfect target for exaggerated reviews or knee-jerk reactions, and only a reasonable reader will be able to recommend the book on its own terms.

Common Sense Media

• Summarizes the book as “Controversial coming-of-age classic with sex, drugs, abuse.”
• Rates the book as being appropriate for teens 16 and older
• Includes tally of parent and educator input: 67% say the book contains positive messages and is educational
• There are several warnings about the sexual, violent, and drug-related content of the book, including several scales measuring the educational value, positive messages, positive role models, violence, sex, harsh language, consumerism, and substance consumption in the book.
• Parents are encouraged to discuss the book with their kids and compare it to other coming-of-age titles such as Catcher in the Rye and To Kill A Mockingbird.
• User reviews include several teens younger than 16 saying they love the book

Facts On Fiction

• Uses publisher’s summary
• A list of links leads the reader to different charts, each one reflecting a different spectrum of activities in the book, including positive elements, mature subject matter, profanity/language, sexual content, violence/illegal activity, tobacco/alcohol/drugs, and disrespectful/antisocial elements. Each chart contains a half-dozen or more categories underneath its heading, specifying, for example, which issues in the book count are represented as mature subject matter.
• Topics are covered only so far as they are recognized; not much context

Story Snoops

• Offers publisher’s recommended reading age (14) and Lexile* reading level
• Lists awards the book has won
• Begins with over-arching premise of the book that skims over the details before offering “The Scoop”
• “The Scoop” serves as a book report for parents, providing the site’s recommendation, mentions of mature material as well as the context surrounding each instance in the book, issues the book raises that can be discussed with parents and teachers, and the book’s actual message.
• Lists content keywords that describe the actions in the book

Of these three sites, Common Sense Media and Facts On Fiction do the most to categorize “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” into neat little scales and charts. Story Snoops refrains from quantifying its analysis and instead writes out a full description of the book, with a focus on its mature content. Story Snoops appears to be the best site of the three for online parental recommendations, though the best-case scenario would be for a parent and child to read through a book together (whether sitting together or just through follow-up discussion).

I agree with Scales that using online reviews solely to “snoop” into books and decide what is and is not appropriate for kids can be harmful. Nobody can predict with certainty how a child will react to a given book, and one should not underestimate a child’s ability to read above his/her level and absorb information without being traumatized. On the other hand, parents should not be admonished for wanting to be aware of what their children are reading, especially when the rallying cry among librarians toward parents seems to be, “We just recommend books, you have to be responsible.” I would warn parents, however, not to fall into the trap of thinking they can monitor everything their children do and wind up with a perfectly adjusted child as a result. It is better, in my opinion, to let children branch out into mature topics as they age and provide context while the kids are still around to listen. Then again, parent however you like, I’m just a public librarian.

*But let me add as a mini-ranting footnote that Scales and I see eye to eye when it comes to Lexile and Accelerated Reader. I had Accelerated Reader as a child and was fortunate enough to find some titles that I enjoyed while reading through the ranks. However, the means by which AR and Lexile scan the text (not length, not subject matter, not complexity of plot) of books and assign reading levels based on vocabulary words and sentence length… no. The potential for holding back gifted readers, especially those who have yet to discover a love of reading, is massive, and charging schools and publishers for automated book ratings undercuts the expertise of generations of educators. Give their money to underfunded libraries if reading truly matters.

In my experience, not many people want to remember their adolescence. This avoidance can lead to an alienation of teenagers, especially teenage library patrons. It is hard for some adults to look into the eyes of a six-foot-tall football player and imagine that he feels shy about asking for a book, and easy to write off a girl reading by herself as “the quiet type.” Think about your teenage years: unless you were some prodigy of social talent and grace, there were millions of thoughts running through your head just looking for an excuse to burst out. Feelings of longing, loneliness, overcrowding, irritation, sympathy – dramatic yet inexperienced.

And like any frustrated teen, where did your feelings go? Diligence, distraction, denial, all noted pasttimes of the under-20 crowd. But you found outlets, didn’t you? Maybe it was in popular culture, in the form of a television series, movie trilogy, or book saga. Maybe you met a trustworthy adult who validated your existence with an inherent authority you couldn’t find in your peers. Maybe you built a rocketship and secretly visited the moon (please share photos with me, I can keep a secret).

I propose that a hashtag be formed for people to discuss their formative experiences. Being a young adult is a phase of sorts, even if much of it is carried into adulthood. #yatimes is the hash tag I suggest people use in order to help other people understand, or even remember, what being a teenager feels like. Whatever your story, even if it’s just a list of product placements, please try to include an explanation of why you liked/hated what you did.

Some librarians have crowds of teenagers and handy research links at their disposal for keeping tabs on teen life. I think #yatimes can become a good excuse for people to use their growing pains (and gains!) as education for others. Through this kind of sharing, perspective can be gained.

Who knows what others can learn from your story? Sound off, whether by tweet, tumblr, or blog post. I’ll have my own #yatimes post ready in due time, but would love to hear from others, as well.

(image taken from FIW Quotes)

As a participant in Library Day in the Life, I considered writing a blog post that would recap all of the unique moments (and maybe a few mundane moments) from the past week. Then I realized that I have a Twitter feed for that sort of thing. But elaboration is still required! There are details that don’t fit in itsy bitsy tweets. With that in mind, here are some meatier descriptions of days in my librarian life:

Using magazines to make connections. I have a regular patron who writes on the side for some magazines. She’s a good writer and sometimes she asks me for a second pair of eyes on an article (hey, my English degree has some use!). It so happens that while I was at ALA, an up-and-coming magazine pitched to me and handed over contact information to contact the publisher directly. (Whether to buy a magazine subscription or not is another issue entirely.) When I returned to the library from ALA, a connection clicked in my head and I realized the writer-patron would make a pretty good fit with this magazine based on its content. We shall see if the patron has another magazine to add to her portfolio; if I was that publisher, I would leap on that opportunity.

Magazines, Part 2. I found a golden opportunity one afternoon: teens with nothing to do. They were just sitting around, not reading anything, not waiting for a computer, just relaxing. They also weren’t looking at any of books or magazines strewn about. I decided to make a survey out of them.

“Hey guys, the library is deciding what magazines to buy for next year, would you like to help us decide?”
“Sure.”
“What kinds of magazines do you like to read? What would you like to see here?”
“Sports, entertainment. That sort of thing.”
“Something like Sports Illustrated or Entertainment Weekly, maybe?”
“Yeah, those!”
“We have those magazines already. Have you seen our magazine rack?”
“You have a magazine rack?”

Ta-da! New periodicals patrons. Nothing fancy or theoretical about that level of service, just noticing opportunities for information and making helpful suggestions.

E-struction. One of the side effects of being a tech geek is that I am one of the go-to people at my branch for computer Q&A. A gentleman came in one day with a Sony Reader, laptop, and Nook Color, wanting to know how to move his checked out library ebooks from one to the other. 90 minutes later, I had worked out all the kinks with the file system on his computer (with his express permission and participation, of course) and written down a brief manual for getting the library’s ebooks into each device.

After the gentleman left, I wondered how much of my lesson stuck, and if he would bother to ask for help again based on my performance. The next day, one of my coworkers informed me that she ran into the patron’s wife and was told the gentleman handles ebooks like a pro ever since stopping by the library, and wanted to thank us for ending the frustration. Success!

Gaming to Go. I cannot stress enough how great the American Go Foundation’s deal is: complete Go sets for free to any youth program that will teach Go. The complete “Hikaru No Go” manga for the cost of shipping ($20). In my opinion, every young adult librarian, especially those with graphic novel/anime interests, should be capitalizing on these offers. As soon as I put the manga on display, it checked out, all 23 books, then re-checked out in pieces. I have been trying to get the hang of playing Go, which is one of those easy-to-learn, hard-to-master strategy games like Chess. Whether playing humans as I teach friends and patrons to play Go, or testing myself against app AI, I am on the way to losing enough games to understand why I am losing. The saying in the Go community is, “Lose your first 100 games as quickly as possible.

Something I have wondered about Go: the game is played on a 19×19 board, but tutorials are played on smaller boards such as 9×9, so that new players aren’t overwhelmed by 2-hour games with enormous territories. Why haven’t I heard of a similar starting point for Chess? Nobody I know liked keeping track of 16 pieces of varying ability. Where’s mini-Chess? There are handicaps, sure, but I am wondering about a beginner’s mode that uses, say, half the pieces. If I cook up a version of this idea that works at my library’s game days, I’ll preach it, but for now it tickles my brain.

Rock Out With Your Children’s Librarian Out. Indie rock group for kids Lunch Money visited the library and played to a room full of dancing kids and entertained parents. I was on sporadic photography duty and didn’t want to leave the concert. I am partial to their song “I Love My Library,” which the band gives away. Lunch Money is not averse to assuming silly poses with fans and librarians, placing them among my favorite entertainers.

That’s all I want to describe for now. EVERY day in my librarian life involves a mile-long reading list, and I love attempting to pare it down. Knights vs. windmills and all.

Just a humorous piece regarding content debates of old.