We have achieved iPad

Thanks to a generous grant from our district's foundation, our Media Center will be acquiring 30 iPads in the near future. We are interested in seeing how well they work for our smallest students (K-2) for whom a laptop is a tad delicate. We also hope to connect with those students falling behind and lacking engagement -- tactile learners, anyone?

But, in great part, we are interested in checking out how reading from an electronic tablet works out. Fear not! Miss Shelved fully expects a printed work of literature to be pried from her cold, dead fingers when the time comes to meet her maker. But we are ready to concede that electronic readers may have their place. College students spending $100-200 a pop for textbooks spring mostly easily to mind. Even K-12 textbooks would be nice -- if they are actually designed for reading online, not just digitalized images of pages that do not fit the screen. Our students' backpacks -- not to mention backs -- would be the better for it.

But most intriguing are the possibilities for class and small group reading. How many classrooms and libraries have bins and bins of "class sets" of ancient paperbacks. When investing in such a large number of copies, one can only imagine being swayed to make an easy choice. Don't go out on a limb, don't court a challenge, go for the least common denominator. Once purchased, there is a certain obligation to use the set, despite how uninspiring. How can one justify spending money on a new title before the old ones are worn out? With digital readers one can share a single digital purchase with as many readers as sync to the account-bearing server. Trust us: Miss Shelved checked this very thoroughly with her vendors. How lovely to spend $9.99, or even $19.99 and have a book students are keen to read -- and have enough copies for a literature circle or two or an entire class if need be. And if it is not one's cup of tea next semester, or next year, so be it.

Side issue: But WHAT (one may ask) about the CLASSICS? We bow to none in our appreciation of the classics of children's literature. However, like antiques of other kinds (and we use the term in all reverence and good intent) they go in and out of fashion. Many are, like other delicate items, designed for children to enjoy best under the direct supervision of a caring and responsible adult. This is where teachers get to indulge their own delight in sharing the text with students, so that intonation (and occasional sidebar discussions) might clarify dated or complex vocabulary and syntax. One hopes that old favorites will continue to entertain and enlighten children for years to come. But they are not always the best choices to encourage developing readers to go solo.

As school librarians, we cannot afford to be too snooty about children's choices. Yes, they will continue to sniffle along with us at Charlotte's death every year. But even avid readers will tear through a lot of potboilers on the way to fluency. Even better, there's a lot of really good writing for children coming out every year. With all the new ebooks available we can afford (now literally) to mix it up a little without lowering standards.

Summer Reading Time -- again, already

The time of year is fast approaching when librarians across the country are starting to think about the dreaded SUMMER READING LIST. It is a mixed blessing. Of course one wants our little darlings reading as much as possible over the vacation. Of course one has tons of wonderful suggestions for them. Still, no child in his or her right mind wants to read any book s/he thinks it required. Or educational. Or "at grade level." It is a delicate dance. The best research on developing readers suggests that children are most likely to read when possessed of materials they both can and want to read. And the "can" is stretchy -- amazing what leaps ability makes when matched with desire. And that is where the librarian comes in. Children's librarians live to spark that desire:

Adult librarians are like lazy bakers: their patrons want a jelly donut, so they give them a jelly donut. Children’s librarians are ambitious bakers: You like the jelly donut? I’ll get you a jelly donut. But you should try my cruller, too. My cruller is going to blow your mind, kid. -- John Green (The Future of Reading)

So, if one might offer a word or two of advice to ambitious parents: reading is not a competitive sport. It is a life's delight. Please do not obsess about reading "4th grade books" -- especially if your student is a second grader. Worried that your child is bypassing "good" literature? Read it to them. Worried that they read too much junk? Like you read Proust every night? In fact, try picking up the book about which s/he is so enthusiastic. We deigned to try Diary of a Wimpy Kid recently (how good could it be when everyone is reading it?!?) and were most pleasantly surprised. We laughed. A lot. Out loud. And kept reading. Isn't that the point?

Graphics for Elementary

We recall a meeting of our district media folk during which graphic novels were discussed, lo, not so very many years ago. These titles were just hitting our shelves, having shed their status as lowly comic books (trouble right here in River City!) and gained cachet as serious works of art. The upper schools had bought several new titles, then been shocked to note that a few of the pages were, well, fairly graphic in content. "You have to look at every page," it seemed. Still does. The nature of the format is to be graphic in every sense of the word. Still, there are wonderful titles, which elementary students are snapping up enthusiastically, that are perfectly and delightfully age appropriate. Some of the most loved-to-death titles sprinting out our doors include:

Jeff Smith's Bone series
Scott Morse's Magic Pickle series
David Steinberg's Loud Boy series
Emmanuel Guibert's Sardine in Space series
Jimmy Gownley's Amelia Rules series
Max Axiom (science series) from Capstone
Jennifer Holm's Babymouse

Newer (we haven't picked up past book one) is The Amulet by Kazu Kibuishi, which skews a little more in the manga direction. A popular, and covertly educational, non-fiction choice is Howtoons by Saul Griffith. There are also some nice new titles for the primary set coming from Top Shelf Productions -- which are also interesting enough for older students reading below grade level who rather read nothing than be caught with Biscuit's New Friend.

But do check out a terrific new graphic title: Wonderland by Tommy Kovac (art by Sonny Liew). It revisits Alice in Wonderland from the viewpoint of the much maligned (but never, in the original, seen) character of Maryann, the White Rabbit's parlormaid. Weird and wondrous, it might even send a few readers back to the Lewis Carroll books.

No discussion of graphic novels would be complete without a harangue about their general lack of durability. There seems to be a large subset of elementary boys who are "active readers," for lack of a better term. These are the readers who wear away the edges of paperbacks, break the spines, loosen all the "flip-o-rama" pages in the Captain Underpants books (thank you SO much, Dav Pilkey . . .) Now, we would not for a moment think of barring these readers from touching our precious books (we are NOT that kind of librarian) but some sort of preventative action is required lest we spend our few and dwindling book dollars on constantly replacing the same old favorites. Here we go in for some unabashed product placement: buy Permabound. One starts out gleefully noting that the company swears to replace any book that doesn't hold up. Aha! one thinks: they haven't met our boys! Then one discovers that . . . the books actually do stay in one piece. Who'd a thunk it? Worth the price.

It may be that we are getting older, but recently we are more likely to put down a book unfinished, whether reading for pleasure or in our capacity as school librarian. Too many cute anthropomorphic animals?: cut. Know where this is going?: cut. Jumping the shark 3 chapters from the end?: cut. Just plain irritating?: cut. Maybe it's spring and we'd rather be out in the garden. Still, it is a disturbing trend for this normally rather eclectic reader.

Recently we read of a formula for giving each book a chance. The number of pages required for a fair shot was reduced as one aged. Wise --although we are of an age where now we can't remember the formula...

Particularly annoying are sequels. Are publishers insisting now that every good book has a sequel in it? The City of Ember was, for example, a terrific story, but one that has inspired now 3 rather tepid and didactic follow-ons. There are even some authors who have turned out several nice books in series, but who may need to know when there is nothing new to be said. For example: Colfer's Artemis Fowl, Riordan's Percy Jackson, or Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom. Though it is tough if one commits to a book for each day of the week. I fear we were tired out by Wednesday.

There are some wonderful stories out there that make just one wonderful book. And then end.

Books & Movies

Movies and television these days are rife with versions of children's literature. One can hardly pass the shelves of a Barnes & Noble without noticing new paperback covers that push the videos at least as hard as the text inside. Miss Shelved noticed at least one (very thin) "novelization" of a movie made from a (rather thick) book! Sigh. One tries not to fret over which book the potential buyer will select. We also remind ourselves that movie versions can be delightful and even lead an enchanted viewer back to the text, eager for more. It happens.

There are are sad moments when a borrower returns a book unread because, "I don't need to read it now -- I saw the movie." In this case, Hiaasen's Hoot. Ouch. On the other hand, some young readers of our acquaintence were quick to point out how inadequately one new movie treated the book they loved (The City of Ember and, yes, we saw it too and agree with them). What a terrific reminder of the power of the word and of the imagination -- and the vast difference between verbal and visual storytelling.

This reader's advisor will continue to place all possible moral suasion behind "read the book." Every reader should have the chance to decide for herself what Hogwarts or Narnia looks like, to put faces to names, and provide an emotional context for a story. Clearly it is hard for moviemakers to resist realizing the visual richness of texts like those of Rowling and C.S. Lewis (for the 2nd time in the case of the latter). Authors should not be condemned for being willing to accept a check for movie rights -- one would have to be awfully strong-minded to say no. But one cannot help wishing that Hollywood had kept its hands off the delicate, moody Tale of Despereaux.

Part of media literacy should include both verbal and visual storytelling. How to show it is not the same as how to tell it. Three cheers for Pixar Studios for choosing to create their own stories and distinct visual style. Now, if they could resist accepting checks for cheap "novelizations" of their wonderful movies! . . .

Obsession, Preteen Style: The Twilight Saga

Romance is a time-honored genre, from Wuthering Heights to Barbara Cartland. Though not a personal favorite, romance novels have provided us guilty pleasure from time to time --enough to recognize the standard of identity: the dangerous, anhedonic hero, the heroine who cannot believe her good luck, the heating of blood, and the bruising of lips. Typically, any serious bodice ripping is reserved for after the wedding, though the couples' troubles are rarely resolved by that event. Indeed, Miss Shelved suspects romance novel central relationships must border on the abusive in order to be worth reading about. Romance is a special form of fantasy, an escape in which no mature reader truly believes. Much as we adore them, we cannot imagine asking Heathcliff to pick up the dry-cleaning or Max DeWinter to carpool for soccer. Nor would we want to.

Escapism, even sublimation, is rife in children's literature as well. Just think of all the adventures made possible by the absence of parents (dead, kidnapped, or what-have-you) -- none of which make children yearn to be orphans. From time to time some pious infant will bring a book to Miss Shelved's attention for its bad words, violence, or depiction of naughtiness. We gently suggest that it is possible to read about misbehavior without running out and committing it. Reading about things one might never do is part of what makes a book exciting. The better part of children's fiction involves scrapes that would whiten a parent's hair, yet we see few budding Artemis Fowls, Alex Riders, or even George and Harolds amongst our young readers. So why are we suffering such qualms over Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books?

One supposes the first issue is how much romance is appropriate for the preteen reader? Much fine kid-lit includes the first fumbling attraction between a boy and girl, even a little gratuitous snogging (Lavender and Won-won, anyone?) But it is peripheral to the plot, not the center. The Twilight books, now being picked up by many 10-11 year olds, have all the standards of identity of adult romance novels. The setting is high school -- indeed there is far too much verbiage wasted on who sits with whom at lunch and other minutia. The vampire hero exudes all the self-loathing and sexual heat of an Anne Rice character. Yet nothing happens despite his regularly spending the night in the same bed with the 17-year-old heroine. It is a melange of High School Musical, The Vampire Lestat, and Fear of Flying. Much is made of the old-fashioned morality of the tale: no pre-nuptial congress (human or vampiric) will be countenanced by the gentlemanly Edward, no matter how much Bella wants it. Still, time and again the couple comes to the brink before Edward pulls back and makes the wise choice for the both of them. It is worth noting that the most overused adjective applied to Edward (other than gorgeous) is smug. The most overused adjectives applied to Bella, on the other hand, are sullen, glaring, and pouting. Indeed.

So, do these books belong in an elementary school library? Can they reasonably be viewed as escapism for 10-11 year old girls? Can girls at that age distinguish between the reality and the fantasy of the relationship? Do they see the abuse? Or will they learn to expect "true" romance to include 24/7 attention, stalking, emotional blackmail, not to mention lots of unsupervised private time in rooms with large beds? Miss Shelved does not have the answers -- but would prefer to defer the questions until at least junior high.

Latest from Terry Pratchett

It is tough on one's significant other to hear hysterical laughter and get no coherent explanation of its cause. Clearly there are times when one can easily read aloud a book's jokes and laugh together. This can be difficult with Terry Pratchett, who embeds his jokes so ingeniously that punch lines may hit
pages after the setup -- and are all the more hilarious for this patience and care.

Miss Shelved admits to enjoying the raucously silly DiscWorld series Pratchett writes for adults. However, there is something especially magical when Pratchett pulls onto the PG highway and writes for a younger audience. He remains at least as funny, but also becomes quite joyful, thoughtful, and astonishingly moral -- in a completely non-denominational, non-sectarian, non-political, non-judgmental sort of way. In other words, he asks great questions, and doesn't hit anyone over the head with the answers.

In his latest, Nation, Pratchett confronts the issue of why bad things happen to good people. We have a boy, Mau, who expects to paddle his canoe back to a triumphal coming-of-age celebration and instead runs straight into a tsunami which wipes out his entire island population. He meets Daphne, a European girl whose shipwreck on that island is only the latest in a string of personal disasters. Together they rail against the gods, remake the world, help the needy who continue to wash up on their shores, and try desperately to find some meaning in it all.

Bad things happen to good people, Mr. Pratchett knows. Less than a year ago he made a public announcement of his early-onset Alzheimers. He admits to his own railing against the gods, and to a certain level of desperation. So far he continues to write, continues to think outside the box and play delightful games with the English language. But clearly he, too, is trying to find the meaning of it all. In Nation, we see that Pratchett still finds considerable beauty and goodness. The sheer wonder and pleasure of thinking makes life worth living -- and makes us worthy of the gift. Terry Pratchett intends to use his gifts to the fullest, and we stand among many devoted readers who are pulling for him to continue to do so for many years to come.