by Sarah Statz Cords

Ben Yagoda’s book Memoir: A History, has been sitting on my work table for a week now, staring at me reproachfully as I try and figure out how to review it. We have a tempestuous history, this book and I.

When I first started it, I fell in love. The entire first chapter held me enthralled; it was Yagoda’s own take on the popularity and ubiquity of memoirs in today’s publishing and reading environment. It read like a literal “who’s who” of memoir titles and authors–from Ishmael Beah to James Frey to John Grogan, Dave Pelzer to Augusten Burroughs to Elizabeth Gilbert, they’re all there. In this one pithy chapter Yagoda dissected numerous subgenres and types of the form, including celebrity memoirs, “misery memoirs,” “shtick lit,” blog memoirs, dad memoirs, and many more. I enjoyed that first chapter immensely.

And then, as sometimes happens in relationships, the magic faded. This is not the author’s fault. Yagoda gave me exactly what the book’s title promised: the history of memoirs, from Augustine’s The Confessions (circa the fifth century) all the way through to twentieth-century America (and beyond). And it was a good history, too. Well-written, comprehensive, with lots of titles thrown in as examples. Everything was as it should be, and I’m fascinated by memoirs as a form, so I should have been ecstatic. Instead I found myself skipping large chunks of text.

It really is a good book. If you’re interested in literary history or would like to know more about the roots of memoir writing, you need look no further. (And the final chapter wraps things up nicely, including some thoughts on the nature of memoirs, and the authors who sometimes make them up.) But I recognize that not all librarians have the time to plow through this comprehensive a history. In that case, I’d check it out from your own library and read just the first and last chapters (and there’s one in the middle about “truth” in memoirs which is also worth the time)–if you don’t know anything about memoirs when you start, you certainly will by the time you finish.

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by Sarah Statz Cords

If you couldn’t tell by now, I am a complete sucker for books about books. Each month as I take a wander through the “New Nonfiction” titles listed in my local public library’s catalog, I make sure to keep careful watch for each new book about books (or reading) that I can find.

This month I stumbled across Hallie Ephron’s pleasingly chunky little book titled The Bibliophile’s Devotional: 365 Days of Literary Classics. The book follows a simple enough format; for each day of the year, a suitable book “classic” is listed and described. Ephron does a good job of matching days and seasons to associated reading; for example, the classic listed for April 15 was Andre Dubus III’s novel House of Sand and Fog, which was about, appropriately enough, a house that was wrongly seized for tax violations (with tragic events ensuing). Likewise, Ray Bradbury’s autumnal classic Something Wicked This Way Comes is described on the page for October 26; the December 25 entry is Dylan Thomas’s title A Child’s Christmas in Wales. Nonfiction titles are also included; David McCullough’s historical biography John Adams is listed on January 20; Mary Karr’s memoir The Liar’s Club on March 18.

Each day provides a title and author, a quote from the book, a short synopsis, and a quote about the book or author from another source. It’s a thoroughly enjoyable little book to peruse, and I’d highly recommend just leaving it out in your staff break room for a while (for fun, if for no other reason; I’ll bet you a fiver that everyone who sits down to their break at least pages through to their birthday to see what title is recommended). This is also a book that could prove handy when creating displays or reading lists–want to come up with a list of “Readable Classics”? Look no further. Looking for date- or season-related displays? In spring, check out the entries for March and April; for fall, peruse September and October.

Ephron is also the author of the fun reference book 1001 Books for Every Mood, and is a book review columnist for the Boston Globe newspaper.

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by Sarah Statz Cords

As I do not have kids, and I have never been all that interested in Children’s Librarianship (it feels weird to admit that, but although I am interested in children, and very interested in children reading, I’ll admit my professional interests have always been more in the line of encouraging adults to read), I didn’t think I would get much out of Emma Walton Hamilton’s* book Raising Bookworms: Getting Kids Reading for Pleasure and Empowerment.

It is my pleasure to report I was completely wrong. This is a great book.

Hamilton wastes no time in laying out her argument for why she believes it is imperative for kids to engage in reading: “Chances are, you already believe, as I do, that there’s a direct relationship between reading skills and our ability to participate in the world with confidence as an informed citizen, able to communicate effectively, succeed in our chosen career, enjoy rewarding relationships, and achieve personal fulfillment.” (p. 2.) She also goes on to list some frightening literacy (or illiteracy, rather) statistics, including one that suggests that eighty percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.**

From there she’s off into her chapters, each of which examines a specific age group from babies and toddlers to middle schoolers and beyond, and each of which offers ways to help children equate reading with joy and pleasure (imagine that!), listing strategies for home reading, books particularly appropriate to each age group, and other activities and techniques that support reading.

My favorite thing about this book, hands down, is the suggestion that appears in nearly every chapter: “Set a good example!” Hamilton states that “nothing will teach children to love reading more than seeing the adults around them showing enthusiasm for it.” (p. 17.) She takes the trouble to restate the suggestion in many different ways, saying that she knows it’s hard, but parents and other adults must make and take the time for themselves to enjoy reading so the kids around them can observe that. When I worked in a public library I always felt like we didn’t sufficiently address that concern or offer enough reading support to adults; children’s services got a lot of publicity but what happened, I always wondered, when those kids grew up and no one gave them any more prizes for reading in the summer? It used to break my heart when parents would regularly come to the library with their kids and check out a number of kids’ books, but not one book for themselves. (Although, yes, it was great they were in the library at all.)

But I digress. This is an interesting book for those looking for ideas to encourage reading in children (and the reading lists are very helpful too–I myself might check out some of the titles suggested for middle- and high-schoolers), but it’s also a great book if you want to think about how you can encourage adults to encourage children to read.

Hamilton is not a trained reading specialist, and does not offer tips on the mechanics of reading, but she is a children’s book author herself and has worked as an arts education administrator.

*Fun fact: the author is the daughter of actress and singer Julie Andrews.

**Gasp!

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by Sarah Statz Cords

Last night I spent a very enjoyable evening reading Jenny LaPerriere’s and Trish Christiansen’s book Merchandising Made Simple: Using Standards and Dynamite Displays to Boost Circulation.*

I know. Reading a book on doing library displays when I’m not currently working IN a library, and enjoying it, pretty much marks me out as a total nerd. But I am now a nerd with a much better understanding of how “CPS” (Collection Presentation Standards) and attractive book displays and merchandising can truly translate into better circulation for your collection and a more pleasant facility.

The book is straightforward, can be read easily in one or two sittings, and (perhaps most importantly) includes a wealth of helpful and informative photographs. In the first few chapters, the authors do not make the mistake of leaping right into suggesting display themes, but instead build their case for understanding your patrons’ needs, adapting retail and merchandising techniques to your needs, and understanding both traffic flow in your library and what tools are available to form the base of good displays. In later chapters they do provide more nitty-gritty suggestions (how to use props, how to make signs, how to keep track of your display schedules), but they also highlight the importance of involving all staff members in the process, as well as the necessity of training shelvers and all staff of the presentation standards a true library merchandiser should try to uphold.

I spent a lot of time working in library circulation departments, where the real work of maintaining the library’s collections is often performed, and these authors’ impressive understanding of just how important EVERYONE in your library is when tasked with keeping it clean and attractive made a real impression on me. This paragraph in particular struck me:

“Keep your staff members involved at every step by asking for their input and ideas and explaining your process. You want the entire staff to be passionate about connecting the customers and the collection in more seamless and exciting ways. The benefits are high when everyone has a sense of ownership.” (p. 97.)

Passion! Ownership! Excitement! Remember when you felt all those things about working in a library, about not only being around books and readers, but helping them to find each other in meaningful ways? If nothing else, reading this excellent book might help rekindle all those feelings. When I visit my local library this afternoon I would guess I’ll find myself straightening and tidying whatever shelves I choose to browse; I won’t be able to help it.

*Full disclosure: This title is published by Libraries Unlimited/ABC-CLIO, which also publishes the Reader’s Advisor Online and this blog.

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by Sarah Statz Cords

If Marilyn Johnson was looking to sell a book to librarians and collection developers who buy their libraries’ books, she couldn’t have chosen a better topic or title than This Book Is Overdue! How Librarians and Cybrarians Can Save Us All. Whether or not the book will sell to the general public might be more difficult to say*; but I would guess that even the most flinty-hearted of information professionals melt when they see the cover image of a super librarian, complete with cape and librarian glasses, on the front cover.

Johnson clearly loves using libraries, and has respect for librarians and cybrarians of all types, whether they are providing reference help in the streets of New York during the 2008 Republican Convention or they are virtual librarians organizing libraries and collections in Second Life. Her coverage is broad: she first discusses the possibility of information overload in our modern society, and then goes on to tell stories about the divide between librarians and IT staff members, librarian bloggers, librarians who resisted the Patriot Act, long-distance master’s degree students, “anarchist” librarians, librarian stereotypes, Second Life volunteer librarians, and staff members of the New York Public Library.

Any type of librarian who has practiced for any time at all will recognize much here: the frustrations the IT staff have with the public staff (and vice versa); the struggle to remain relevant in a world where more information seems to be available than ever before (but it is surprisingly hard to find specific and helpful information); the question of the lengths to which librarians should go to reach out to patrons; even the surprisingly common challenge of finding unidentified poop in unexpected places in one’s library. To some extent Johnson’s description of the varied experiences and challenges of the profession is admirable, especially as she is a writer and not a library staffperson herself.

But that is also, for me, where the book failed. Although I would imagine that many readers who pick this book up will be library staff members, I don’t know that they are really its target audience. Reading the book as both a former academic and public librarian, my overwhelming feeling was one of “yeah, okay, so?” to most of the chapters (although I enjoyed the chapter on Second Life, which I’ve never really understood and still don’t, more than I expected to). Of course there’s a ton of librarians who blog. Yes, librarians have always been very aware of their stereotype, and many now subvert those stereotypes in varied and wonderful ways. And yes, of course, there’s poop in the public library. (What she neglected to mention was the wet butt-prints left by diaper-wearing babies plopped by their mothers on library counters and desks; vomit; used Kleenexes handed to staff; and books returned to the book drop that are saturated with cat urine.)

I wanted to love it; I ended up pretty ambivalent about it, and really only finished it because I wanted to review it here. (And I certainly preferred her earlier book, The Dead Beat, about obituaries and obituary writing.) Has anyone else read this one who wants to disagree with me? Let’s discuss!

*Although it and its author are getting some good press: As was pointed out at EarlyWord.com, Johnson has been interviewed at NPR and at Salon. It has also been reviewed in the Wall Street Journal (and this review is right on, in my opinion), the Boston Globe, Library Journal, and Publisher’s Weekly. Another librarian’s take on the book can be found at Ricklibrarian.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

All right, I’ll admit it. I don’t know that there are many ways to relate Murray Browne’s new title The Book Shopper: A Life in Review, to reader’s advisory service and professional development.

But sometimes, the heart just wants what it wants, and a lot of times, what my heart wants is simply a great read about books and reading. And that is undoubtedly what Browne’s slim volume is. In a mere 200 pages, Browne tackles many aspects of reading and the physical arrangement and procurement of books.

There’s chapters here on how “Book Lovers Are Not Necessarily People Lovers,” “What Every Good Bookstore* Should Have,” and “Managing the Personal Library.” It’s meant to be a guide to the world of used bookstores, but I really think it works as a guide to the broader world of reading and readers as well.

Browne himself admits that he has had a varied career, including stints as a book reviewer and author, and he does hold an MS in Information Sciences from the University of Tennessee. His book–which I’ll admit I have a soft spot for because he includes a chapter on “the new journalists,” also known as some of my own personal favorite authors such as Joan Didion and Tom Wolfe–has been published by Paul Dry Books, an independent publisher in Philadelphia. Even if you don’t know if this title is for you, do check out Paul Dry’s catalog; it’s an eclectic joy to behold, and boasts numerous titles you might be able to use in your libraries.

I’ve already blathered on about this title too much, when I should have let Browne do his own talking. I’m bringing in the big guns with this excerpt; this is a paragraph designed, I think, to resonate with readers, librarians, and readers’ advisors:

“I take comfort in knowing that in a world fraught with conformity, where you see the same retail stores, smell the same fast foods, and hear the same music on the car radio no matter where you are, there still exists a tribe of non-conformists. These people (including you, dear reader) are like that beloved used bookstore near a campus town with inventory piled high and deep…Through years of reading, an individual becomes one of those places that I never want to give up visiting.”

*Insert the word library here instead; that helps us relate this book to library service!

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Want to learn how to write the next big bestseller? Want some insight into how bestselling novels get written? Look no further than Steve Hely’s handy new book How I Became a Famous Novelist.

In it, you’ll learn the secrets of bestsellerdom, ranging from the vague (“Write a popular book. Do not waste energy making it a good book.”) to the very specific (“Must include a club, secrets/mysterious missions, shy characters, characters whose lives are changed suddenly…”).

You’ll learn how literary agents and publishers really have no idea at all about what makes a book a bestseller. You’ll learn that authors are indeed the rock stars of the intellectual world, hoping to use their book readings to meet girls.

It’d be a brilliant tell-all about the publishing and reading world…if only it were nonfiction. That’s right. Hely’s book is most emphatically a novel—all about his main character, Pete Tarslaw, and Pete’s drive to write a bestseller so he can rub his ex-girlfriend’s nose in his success at her upcoming wedding.

So why profile this book here, where we typically talk about nonfiction books about books and reading? Well, primarily because variety is the spice of life. Also: because this novel is funny. And not least because librarians and readers’ advisors are perhaps the ideal audiences for Hely’s satire; who knows those bestseller lists and what’s on them better than most library staff members?

Sometimes, even in the midst of our quest to understand books and the readers who love them, we need a lighthearted treat too. And this novel most definitely is that. Do give it a try, and be sure not to miss the fictional Bestseller List which Tarslaw studies while trying to come up with his own bestselling plot. It includes this title:

“The Balthazar Tablet, by Tim Drew. The murder of a cardinal leads a Yale professor and an underwear model to the Middle East, where they uncover clues to a conspiracy kept hidden by the Shriners.” Sound familiar?

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By Sarah Statz Cords

All right. I’ll admit that there’s not a lot of patrons out there seeking our expertise on classic literature (and I do mean “classic,” not “modern classics”–think Virgil, think Ovid, think Shakespeare; and if you want to get really modern, think Tolstoy, Joyce, and Hemingway). But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have a little fun with books like Jack Murnighan’s Beowulf on the Beach: What to Love and What to Skip in Literature’s 50 Greatest Hits.

With a Ph.D. in medieval and renaissance literature, Murnighan seems as qualified as anyone to poke a little fun at the Western canon’s biggest names and titles. And that’s exactly what he does; for each title he explores, he not only provides a handy little plot synopsis, he also provides such fun tidbits as “best line,” “what’s sexy” and even, gasp (literary purists among us, please stop reading here) “what to skip” in these classics, often referred to as literature’s “best books.”

Again, the pertinence of a scholarly yet fun book like this to most of our RA queries, which tend to focus on newer titles, is not immediately apparent. But again, I’d say it has a lot of value for several reasons:

• It’s fun, and sometimes we need a little fun to recharge our reading and RA engines;
• It might actually be useful to be at least passably familiar with the plots of these fifty classics, for pop culture purposes, and for when high schoolers need help with research and papers; and
• There might be other ways to use a book like this to support RA duties; what about a book display of classics with little shelf tags of tongue-in-cheek opinions from library staff? Or using a book like this in conjunction with attempting a classic for a library book group?

Okay, I know those ideas start to get a little far-fetched. But that’s what I love about books like this (and make no mistake, it is a really good book): they remind me that reading makes us part of a larger community, not only in our time, but through time (even if we’re all skipping some of the same bits of the great classics–has anyone actually read ALL of Moby Dick, or The Sound and the Fury?), and they remind me that the sky’s the limit when it comes to reading, enjoying, loving, and looking at books, always, in new ways.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Still think that Rough Guides are just for travel?

Look again–the publisher that puts out “The Rough Guide to…” any number of travel destinations is now publishing a line of reference and pop culture Rough Guides as well. I was intrigued with the first one I checked out, titled The Rough Guide to the Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, not because I was a fan, but because I couldn’t make it past the first couple of chapters of The Golden Compass, but I still thought it was important for me to have some knowledge of the books.

That was an interesting guide. But the latest one I’ve seen, The Rough Guide to Graphic Novels, by comics writer Danny Fingeroth, is downright fantastic, and useful, and succinct, and all those things you want a great reference book to be.

It opens with a few chapters on the attributes and history of the graphic novel, all the way back to English painter and printmaker William Hogarth, who published a series of six paintings titled A Harlot’s Progress in 1731. A short graphic story, written by the author and illustrated by Roger Landgridge follows, and although not particularly fascinating, it does show how graphic storytelling works, by example.

But the crowning glory and the most useful part of this guide is this middle section describing “the canon”: sixty best graphic novels that everyone should read or be aware of, from Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira to Joe Kubert’s Yossel. Each of the sixty examples includes a one- to two-page summary and the bibliographic information for the title, making it a worthy first stop for librarians and advisors looking to create or beef up a core graphic novel collection.

Concluding sections on iconic authors, manga, and film adaptations are also worth perusing, but make sure not to skip the canon section. And, even if you’re not a big fan of the format, never fear–reading these summaries will give you a lot better idea of what you’re working with (without having to read each title itself). All told, I heartily look forward to more of these reference Rough Guides.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Isn’t that a great title? I love it when Library Science books have titles like “…in Practice,” because that signals a book that is firmly grounded in practical experience and ideas. And this book, titled (in full) Reader Development in Practice: Bringing Literature to Readers (edited by Susan Hornby and Bob Glass) is just what it advertises; a great collection of essays about ways that writers and librarians in Great Britain are striving to not only get books that readers will enjoy into their hands, but also…what a great idea…to DEVELOP readers.

This is where I think we sometimes fall down in our practice in American libraries. Sure, we’ll do anything short of giving away prizes (oh wait, we do that too) to get kids to read, but once those kids become adults we largely back away and adopt an attitude of, “okay, if you’re an adult who wants to read, come find me and I’ll help.” The great thing about this book is that it is aimed at least partially at developing adult readers through community book and reading programs, collection development, and other methods.

My favorite chapters in the book were the eminently practical “Survival Strategies for the Independent Bookseller,” in which Mike Mizrahi discusses the ways he displays and promotes books in his small independent bookstore, and the fascinating “‘Time to Read’: The Rise and Rise of a Regional Partnership,” by Jane Mathieson, about the “Time to Read” promotional program undertaken in a number of libraries in north west England. One of my favorite parts of that chapter? The part in which Mathieson describes how the participating libraries sought to provide support for literary endeavors in their region by subscribing to a number of local literary magazines. What an awesome idea! I’ve been wishing my local library would subscribe to some literary magazines for years (and making purchase requests–no luck yet, but I’m going to keep at it).

The book’s not perfect. Parts of it can be dry and, as it was published in Great Britain for a British market, some of it is hard to translate to American libraries (as, although I am an Anglophile, I do not have a strong grasp of how public libraries in Great Britain compare to ours). But it is a great idea. Leaving me with just one question: has anyone seen a book like this, about developing adult readers, written for and about American libraries? If not, I think it’s high time there was.

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