Posts on sexism

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.

I've latched onto a couple of interesting discussions taking place in the Kidlitosphere in the past 24 hours. Take a look...

• Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect asks why we read. Her question is spurred by a profoundly irritating, borderline offensive review of Twilight in The Atlantic, "What Girls Want," by Caitlin Flanagan. The column is rife with gross generalizations and ignorance of teen literature, not to mention multi-directional sexism and heterosexism. Even if I weren't a person who hates being told what I think, what I feel, what I'm like, or who I am (does anyone?), I'd still want to remind Ms. Flanagan that one person's experiences do not a broad-sweeping phenomenon make.
• Liz at A Chair, a Fireplace, and a Tea Cozy asks what personal area of expertise results in a "fail" moment when the book you're reading gets it wrong. For me, it's dog ownership and librarianship. And, I suppose local information. (I still haven't gotten over James Howe sending that giraffe to the nonexistent zoo in Kalamazoo!)