Posts on readers advisory

My post last week about Diantha McBride’s open letter to children’s publishers prompted some interesting discussion in the comments. Responding to the issue of gendered readers’ advisory, Mr Chompchomp from GuysLitWire pledged to write about books with guy appeal that happen to star female characters. He came through this week, naming four of my all-time favorite fantasy series—for my own enjoyment and for booktalking to kids—in the process.

While the topic’s fresh in my mind, here are some more novels and series with female protagonists that have strong multi-gender appeal:

• Book of Ember, by Jeanne DuPrau
• Damar Chronicles, by Robin McKinley
• Flora Segunda and sequels, by Ysabeau Wilce
• Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
• Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke
• Maximum Ride, by James Patterson
• Skulduggery Pleasant, by Derek Landry
• Young Wizards, by Diane Duane
• Just about anything by Tamora Pierce (particularly the Alanna, Keladry, and Beka Cooper series)

I followed Mr Chompchomp’s lead and stuck to speculative fiction here, but what other books or series—of any genre—would you add?

One final point of discussion (for today): In thinking about my own tendency toward gendered readers' advisory, I realized that when I'm booktalking a "girl book" (a book starring a girl) to a male reader—or said male reader's guardian—I tend to say things like, "But it's full of action! But she's tough and kicks butt!"

But, but, but. I become an apologist for girl-centric fiction. It's like I'm saying, "I'm sorry this book is about a girl, but actually it's quite exciting, if you'd only look past the disappointing fact that it's about a girl." Do I use these kinds of qualifications when I'm booktalking a "boy book" to a girl? No. I hate that.

I even had trouble writing this post! That sentence above, "Here are some more novels and series with female protagonists that have strong multi-gender appeal"? The "that" was originally a "but."

Sexism runs so very deep in our culture, in ourselves. Even when I'm actively trying to kick it to the curb, it's still there. Ugh!

ETA, 7/13/09:
Over at Booklights, Jen Robinson has posted her own list of recommended adventurous books starring girls. More great suggestions -- check 'em out!

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.

Progress report on what my library has done since the ILA conference session on library service to GLBTQ teens:

• We have ordered (but not yet received) Serving Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning Teens: A How-to-Do-It Manual for Librarians, by Martin and Murdock (Neal-Schuman, 2006).
• As of today, our list of recommended Gay and Lesbian Books for Young People is available on our website and in the library.
• Modernizing/streamlining catalog headings hasn't happened yet, and I don't think it will for at least another month what with various other things happening. But it's still on my agenda.

So, more about the list. "Gay and Lesbian" is not a very inclusive title, I know. But we were going for transparency, and it was the best title we could think of that wasn't too long, clever, obscure, general, or clinical. We figure that people looking for a GLBTQ list will recognize this as such, and that people serendipitously finding the list will have a good idea of what it includes. The list description spells out the contents further.

As for what's on the list, it's got books about queer youth, children and teens with queer family members and friends, various other queer issues, different types of families, and some other gender identity issues. The books have an intended audience of preschool through high school. All the books are owned by the library at present. It's not comprehensive, but I squeezed in as many titles as I could within our one-sheet, double-sided constraints.

I'm very appreciative of my boss (Hi, boss! Yes, my boss reads my blog), my uber-boss, and my fellow youth librarians, who have been very supportive of this list. (So far, no one has asked why we need this list.) My boss has even suggested we do a display to highlight the list, after our Day of the Dead display comes down. That's really gutsy, but what is a good librarian, if not gutsy? Let's do it!

No cohesion to this entry, just pure, unadulterated brain-dump in list format.

1. In spite of my worries, the aftermath of Summer Reading Club has not been bad at all so far. One of my coworkers made some great signs warning people of the club's approaching deadline, not to mention a banner that hung all summer with the beginning and end dates. They seem to have helped. We've had relatively few stragglers, and no problems that I've heard about. Both our membership and completion rates were up from last year, which is cool.

2. Publishers Weekly Children's Bookshelf has a new op-ed feature. This week's entry: When YA Might Not Be OK. Librarian Shannon Stevenson tackles the question of how to respond when middle grade children ask for books with mature themes. My personal approach is more hands-off but similar in spirit. If a parent's doing the asking on behalf of a child, I'll be very forthright about mature content, in a "Just so you're aware..." context. If it's a kid, I'll say with a certain amount of significance, "That'll be in the high school section..." But I leave it there, figuring that the book will go over their heads and/or that parents will do their job.

ETA, 8/8/08: More reactions to the article at...

• A Chair, a Fireplace, and a Tea Cozy
• Read Roger

3. I've obtained a rental copy of Breaking Dawn so that I can see for myself what all the fans are complaining about. So far I've kept myself spoiler-free. I hope this doesn't devour my entire weekend.

4. I'm registering for SCBWI Wisconsin's Fall Retreat. I'm both excited and nervous about the prospect. I've never been to a big (um, or even small—so this feels big to me) writing event like this before. I'm excited because I'll get to meet other writers, including Julie Bowe, who's been nothing but sweet to me in answering lots of my questions the past few months. I'll also get to meet my agent in person. I'm nervous because I have to get a 10-page manuscript sample together for critique, and I have to figure out how to get to Racine, preferably without driving.