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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By Sarah Statz Cords

Tired of the phrase “Web 2.0″? (Or, saints preserve us, “Web 3.0″?)

If you are, I’ve got the book for you. Yes, it will introduce new terminology. Yes, it has to do with collaboration and social computing. But no, it doesn’t spend a lot of time calling itself “2.0.”

The book in question is Michael Miller’s Cloud Computing: Web-Based Applications that Change the Way You Work and Collaborate Online, and it’s a book you should be reading if you’re interested in reaching your library and reading patrons in new and increasingly social and virtual ways.

But first, that terminology. What, exactly, is “cloud computing”? Miller defines it thus: “With cloud computer, the software programs you use aren’t run from your personal computer, but are rather stored on servers accessed via the Internet. If your computer crashes, the software is still available for others to use. Some goes for the documents you create; they’re stored on a collection of servers accessed via the Internet. Anyone with permission can not only access the documents, but can also edit and collaborate on those documents in real time.” (p. 8.)

That’s pretty straightforward, but I can illustrate it with an example: Outlook and Eudora and similar email programs run as software on your computer; cloud computing applications like Gmail live on the Internet and on a network of servers.

So what does this mean for librarians and readers’ advisors? It means, for one thing, that the sky’s the limit when it comes to new applications for sharing ideas, to-do lists, schedules, presentations, and even databases online and with colleagues who may be very far away from you geographically. But when you first start exploring that sky, it can be a bit too wide-open and intimidating. Although this book is aimed at personal and business users, there’s no reason that many of its chapters (“collaborating on event management,” “collaborating on databases,” “sharing digital photographs,” etc.) couldn’t be adapted to library and outreach purposes. It’s a nicely written and organized book, offering a wealth of examples of such “cloud computing” applications and explaining how they could be used. It also does a nice job explaining some practical considerations, particularly a discussion, starting on page 24, of the pros (lower software costs, instant software updates, unlimited storage, easier collaboration) and cons (requires internet connection, can be slow, privacy and security issues) of the cloud.

It’s not perfect; as noted, this book is written more for business users, and parts of it can be redundant, but those are small considerations. If you’re being asked to develop new services, adapt training, prepare a presentation with a far-flung colleague, or wondering how you can use online tools to share info and help readers and patrons, you could do a lot worse than to give this book a quick read.

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By Sarah Statz Cords
I’ve never really developed a satisfactory answer for the question, “What does 2.0-anything really mean?” so I have a habit of checking out books that have “2.0″ in the title. One of the better such books I’ve found is Ben Rigby’s Mobilizing Generation 2.0: A Practical Guide to Using Web 2.0. The book’s jacket copy promises that it is a “practical and immediately useful guide for nonprofits, political campaigns, organizers, and individuals who want to better understand how to use Web 2.0 technologies.” I say the word “libraries” should be added to that description; this is a handy overview for any library staff member not only wanting to understand new and collaborative web technologies, but also how to start using them to reach out to new populations.

The book includes chapters on blogging, social networking, video and photo sharing, mobile phones, wikis, maps, and virtual worlds. Although not all library staff will have an interest in all of these topics, there’s enough easy-to-read information here for everyone to learn a little something. One of my favorite aspects of this book is its practical layout; in addition to text, it also provides numerous sidebars with tips, examples, personal stories, and definitions. Consider the tip provided for “Ways to Use Blogs:”

“Blogs can be used to Announce (events, new products, services and initiatives), React immediately (to public criticism or praise), Convey (organizational messaging and identity), Involve (consituents by asking questions and listening to responses, and Close the feedback loop (give results of fundraising efforts, tell volunteers what they’ve achieved, and report back from conferences and events.” (p. 21.)

I love books that not only give me new ideas and suggestions, but which also do a lot of the work for me. That paragraph above? The next time your manager wants to know why your library NEEDS a blog, just recite any of those reasons. I still don’t know that I have an answer for exactly what 2.0 means. But I think if I read a few more books like this one I’ll be able to use 2.0 tools to reach out to new readers and patrons.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

If recent discussion on Fiction-L is any indication, librarians, readers’ advisors, and readers of all sorts have some pretty opinionated ideas about book lists (especially of “classic” or “good” books), as well as how they are compiled, used, and disseminated.

(BTW: What a great profession. Any group of people who can have a great discussion about not only what types of books we enjoy, but what we expect from our book LISTS is a group of people I’m proud to know.)

Regardless of how you feel about lists of any sort, “must-read” books, “classics,”* titles related by theme, etc., I think we can all agree to disagree on how useful we find lists personally and professionally. But what I really find fascinating is HOW and BY WHOM these lists get made, as well as how they’re regarded and referenced.

Me? I’m a list fan. Not so much because I want to follow anyone else’s particular list, but rather because looking at someone’s book list for me provides the vicarious thrill of getting a little insight into how their reading brain works. Book lists to me are like dropping in at someone’s house and then surreptitiously scanning their bookshelves to try and get to know them a little better. Come on. Doesn’t everyone do that?

Which is all a very long intro to today’s book about books, Jane Mallison’s Book Smart: Your Essential Reading List for Becoming a Literary Genius in 365 Days. This one’s probably going to ruffle a few feathers; What makes these books essential? What does it mean to be a Literary Genius? How did Mallison choose these books anyway? Which is all really beside the point, in my opinion. Mallison’s got credentials; she was the head of the English department at New York City’s Trinity School from 1982 to 2004. And this book, offering a thematic “reading plan” for each month, does skew heavy on the classics. Some of the titles you’ll find described here include Beowulf, The Inferno, The Aeneid, and more modern classics like Jude the Obscure, The Handmaid’s Tale, Atonement, and Lucky Jim.

What fun! Whether or not I agree with Mallison that knowing a bit more about both the Aeneid and Catch-22 makes me a literary genius, this book is a gem for those reader’s advisors looking for a nice run-down on a lot of classics. The book is organized in twelve chapters, for each month, and each month includes ten or so titles, which Mallison annotates at length and most of which she also provides further reading suggestions. At the end of her entry for Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, for instance, she suggests “for more on the March family, check out Katharine Weber’s The Little Women and Geraldine Brooks’s March.”

Who cares if they’re classics? Who cares why Mallison is telling me what I should read? The way I see it, learning how other readers make connections between books is at least half of the work of reader’s advisory. So, even if you don’t care about the classics, I’d suggest this book anyway. If nothing else it’s a glimpse at someone else’s bookshelf (and a fun one, at that).

*Those readers particularly interested in the “classics,” specifically 189 of them, complete with helpful two-page annotations, might also want to consider Charles Van Doren’s new compilation The Joy of Reading: A Passionate Guide to 189 of the World’s Best Authors and Their Works. If nothing else, it will provide a good introduction to a wide variety of historical and cultural stories and authors about whom high schoolers everywhere will soon be asking reference librarians questions about.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Are you tired of hearing about Web 2.0? Libraries 2.0? Readers’ Advisory 2.0? Life 2.0?

Okay, to be perfectly honest, most of us probably are. Although it might be tempting to put our hands over our ears whenever we hear anything ending with “2.0″ (or, god help us, “3.0″), it might be a better use of our time simply to learn a little bit about Web 2.0 tools, apply and use what we can or want to, and leave the rest for someone else. The best way to do that, particularly in an informed way, might be to take a quick look at the very handy book Blogs, Wikis, MySpace, and More: Everything You Want To Know about Using Web 2.0 But Are Afraid to Ask, by Terry Burrows.

A slim and accessible 224 pages in length, this succinct little book describes the best-known 2.0 tools for blogging, tagging, design, games and virtual worlds, personal management tools, news, photographs and videos, podcasts, social networking, and wikis. There is no philosophical discussion here, simply down-to-earth chapters describing how best to use basic and popular applications such as Blogger, Wikipedia, MySpace, Flickr, and tons more. There are even handy chapters on searching Google and collaborative software that lets you have meetings online, making this a valuable tool, not only for librarians searching for new ways to provide readers’ advisory, but also those seeking to hone their reference skills or looking for easier and faster ways to train and collaborate with peers.

It’s an excellent book. My own personal favorite “finds”? Well, sadly, they’ve not got much to do with RA2.0. But I’m totally going to check out Remember the Milk, a management service that will send you email reminders about plans and dates you plug into it (never forget your mother-in-law’s birthday again! How I wish I’d had this a year ago.), and Postgenomic, a great site that lists new science blogs, news, and access to a wide variety of popular science papers and discussions.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Ever feel like there’s just too many books out there to read them all?

Scratch that.

Ever feel like there’s too many genres (forget the individual books!) out there to read them all?

I do. A lot. And that’s where books like Patrick Anderson’s The Triumph of the Thriller: How Cops, Crooks, and Cannibals Captured Popular Fiction, can come in so handy. I myself am not a huge fan of thrillers. I try to read them once in a while, because thrillers seem to be one of the hottest genres going right now, but I’ll admit I sometimes can’t drum up a whole lot of enthusiasm for the task.

So then I turn to books like Anderson’s. Sometimes “books about books” can be a little bit dry, I’ll admit it, but Anderson’s not having any of that. For one thing, he jumps right in and just starts describing thriller and crime authors and their most well-known works, as well as discussing how they built on their predecessors and how they relate to one another. In seventeen fantastic and readable chapters, he plows through an unbelievable number of big names in the genre, including but not limited to:

Edgar Allan Poe, Raymond Chandler, John D. MacDonald, Ed McBain, Sue Grafton, Sara Paretsky, Scott Turow, John Grisham, Daniel Silva, Alan Furst, Thomas Harris, George Pelecanos, Dennis Lehane, Karin Slaughter, and Charlie Huston.

None of us are being given a whole lot of time on the side these days to familiarize ourselves with as many genres as we can, so books like Anderson’s should probably make it onto our reading list. I’ve not read most of those authors, but now I know a little bit about them, how they write, and, never least, how to spell them when patrons approach the reference desk and ask for them by name rather than by title. And that makes this a very good book.*

*Not a perfect one. It’s got no index, and frankly? It could really use one.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

I know. We hardly have time to read what we want to read, much less what we feel we should read. Lately I’ve been trying to read more novels, but I find that when I have time to read, at night and in snippets during the day, I simply want to return to my comfort food: nonfiction. The last thing I really feel like doing before going to sleep is forcing myself through a thriller that I’m reading as “homework”–trying to understand what it is other readers love about such genres and titles.

So I know that “books about books,” or those pseudo-scholarly books that explore the history and meaning of reading, fiction, genres, or other topics may be very far down your list of “must reads.” But I’d like to recommend one that provides a lot of food for thought about the process of reading, particularly where fiction is concerned: John Sutherland’s How to Read a Novel.

Sutherland is a British author, and an academic, so he refers to some novels that were more popular in the UK than here, and sometimes his tone can be a bit, well, for lack of a better term, “lecture-y.” But the more you read of the book, the more it asks you to consider the reading process in a much deeper way: How do readers choose novels, particularly in our age of publishing overabundance? What do titles say about their books? How does it feel to “hear” an author, rather than just read them? How and why have genres developed? Each chapter is relatively short and the book can be dipped into at will; I particularly enjoyed the chapter titled “On the Rack: Know Your Genre,” in which Sutherland makes a statement with which all readers’ advisors can empathize:

“Genre is one of the least static of fictional domains. It is always branching out—faster than the trade can name it, often.” (p. 142.)*

Another of my favorite parts of the book was the chapter on “hearing” an author and not just reading them; from the chapter title, I thought Sutherland was going to talk about audio books, but instead he was referring to the pacing of books, classifying Salman Rushdie’s writing as “rattling” and “allegro,” and J.M. Coetzee’s style as slower and “adagio.” As we continue our work to classify what exactly it is about certain books that readers enjoy, I think we’ll eventually have to discuss such vocabulary, and isn’t it nice to know that someone else is thinking about it too?

I know it’s hard to make time. (Personally, I think this is where library administrators and managers should step up–offering to watch the public desks for twenty minutes to half an hour a week to give front-line staff some professional development time, maybe spent perusing a book like this one and re-energizing themselves for public service.) But if by some miracle you ever find the time, consider filling a bit of it with this very handy book.

*The editors of the Reader’s Advisor Online database would concur with this–as they regularly reconsider the database’s unique “genre tree” and strive to make it accurately reflect the wide variety of genres available.

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By Sarah Statz Cords

Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard any of the following about memoirs:

“Well, they shouldn’t be called nonfiction, they’re not true.”
“Ugh, how can you read memoirs–arent’ they just all made up?”
“Are all memoir authors big liars like James Frey?”

If you have—and I’m guessing if you work in a library and/or read memoirs, you have—then you may want to peruse the book Truth in Nonfiction: Essays, edited by David Lazar and published by the University of Iowa Press. I’ll admit it, I got way, way too excited when I saw this book was coming out, but that is because, as a lover and unabashed cheerleader for nonfiction, I often struggle with answering readers’ concerns that something must be 100% “true” to be “nonfiction.” All nonfiction read for recreational purposes rather than simply instructional ones struggles a bit with this problem, but memoirs in general are often charged with being more fiction than nonfiction (and brouhahas caused by authors like James Frey, with his title A Million Little Pieces, and Augusten Burroughs’s family lawsuit about Running with Scissors, which was settled only when Burroughs agreed to refer to it as a “book” and not a “memoir,” do not help).

Truth in Nonfiction consists of twenty essays written by memoirists, essayists, nonfiction authors, and writing teachers, and many are quite interesting. The two I found most valuable in understanding memoir as a “genre” were the very first two, Paul Lisicky’s “A Weedy Garden,” and “Truth in Personal Narrative,” by Vivian Gornick, although Oliver Sacks’s “Gowers’ Memory” also has very interesting things to say about perception, memory, and storytelling (all of which are very important in all kinds of nonfiction).

It’s worth a look. But if you don’t have the time to read the whole thing, I’d like to keep you just a big longer and quote Paul Lisicky’s thoughts on memoir, which I loved, loved, loved. Hopefully you will find them interesting too:

“Once we hold memoirists to the standards of journalism and privileged agreed-upon truths to emotional interpretation, the whole genre falls apart—it loses its reason for being. I’m not at all speaking for best-selling memoirists who pass off wholly invented episodes as experience. That’s an entirely different matter. But let’s save our righteous indignation for the conscious manipulators of facts in our times. (Do you hear that, Oprah?) And we know exactly who they are.”

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