A new friend of mine, the YA author James Klise, was
recently “disinvited” to a Skype visit at a middle school. He had been asked to
speak about censorship to a group of eighth graders during Banned Books Week,
but a few days later the school canceled his visit due to the subject matter of
his book, Love Drugged. The book is
about a gay teen who is given a drug to reverse his sexual preferences.
Jim
wrote an article about his experience for the Chicago Tribune. (You may
have to register to read it. It just takes a minute, and it’s free.)
Now, before you start tsk-tsking about the dreadful irony of
an author being “banned” from speaking at a Banned Books Week event, let me say
that the way this story played out made me feel pretty good, both about Jim and
about the librarian with whom he was dealing. Jim is himself a librarian,
specializing in children’s literature, and he understands the pressures under
which school librarians work.
Being a school librarian ain’t easy. Librarians have to
choose their battles carefully. They have limited funds, limited space, limited
time, and limited clout. They must provide a selection of books that fairly and
broadly represents both student tastes and academic imperatives, while at the
same time not getting fired, lynched, or otherwise disempowered. I couldn’t hack
it, but I am grateful that there are those who can.
Two years ago I
wrote about another disinvited YA author—a case in which the matter was
resolved messily and tragically. It still makes me somewhat ill to think about
it. So I was relieved to see that the librarian with whom James Klise was
dealing was not pilloried, and I was delighted that Jim did not fly into a frothing-at-the-mouth
public rage, as I might have. His
article was well-reasoned, balanced, and achingly poignant.
It’s reassuring, particularly during these months of
political rancor, to witness a civilized discourse. In the universe of
censorship-related conflicts, this is a small thing. But the fact is, people have
been hurt. Jim is hurting as an author, and as a human being—nobody likes
rejection. The librarian is embarrassed and no doubt feeling impotent in the
face of conservative factions of her community (she has since added the book to
her collection). And a group of students has been deprived of the opportunity to
interact with a smart, talented, knowledgeable author.
*For the record, this is my first ever legitimate use of the word antidisestablishmentarianism, the longest word I know how to spell.
Celebrate Banned Books
Week by reading a book that makes you apoplectic.
4 comments:
Good blog Pete. Good use of antidisestablishmentarianism. My favorite long word is Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, although i have never used it professionally. Or maybe i just did?
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis sounds like some sort of nasty lung disease. I would look it up, but I prefer to remain ignorant on this one!
Thank you for your reasoned support of school librarians. My heart goes out to both Mr. Klise and that Kansas librarian. We are rarely the ones who WANT to block access. It is not easy to make those decisions, esp. when your personal views abhorring censorship are at war with practical realities outside of your control. I am fortunate to live and work in a progressive district. But middle school is particularly challenging, as there is a WIDE range of both student developmental maturity and parental protectiveness/ permisiveness (that don't always match up). We find ways to get books in the hands of the kids who need them, even if they're not on the shelves :-)
My favorite long word is floccinaucinihilipilification.
Leigh, Thank you for floccinaucinihilipilification. I did not know that word, and it's a good one. Also, thank you for doing the good work of getting books into the hands of young readers. I know how tough it is to deal with a population of middle schoolers whose reading needs range from "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" to "Crime and Punishment."
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