TwentySevenLetters / B

Fahrenheit 451

In the everlasting battle between good and evil (or at least, between Mac and PC), the Microsoft Empire has just gained a little ground.

And it’s all due to one window display.

What are they thinking? I’m… troubled. And appalled. And a little offended, actually. I don’t know what else to say that isn’t already said in the link above. Just … eesh. We’re battling this stereotype every day already, and now Apple is jumping on it, too? What’s next—a full-blown ad campaign that says libraries suck and should be burned to the ground in favor of computers?

Jessa Crispin Offers Graphic Advice (and I quibble with it)

From The Book Standard:

What book reviewers, booksellers, editors, publishers and anybody who might have any sway over what people read about comic books need is [...] perhaps a few guidelines [that] would help the next person assigned to write a review of a comic book for a newspaper’s book-review section.

Most of her points are excellent. I will even tack on an addendum to her first point (“'They’re not just for kids anymore’ is not an original, interesting, clever or even remotely intelligent opening statement”): reviews should never contain the phrase “Crash! Bang! Holy comics, Batman!” or any variant thereon. (This goes double for displays.)

Unfortunately, it’s her last point where I have some trouble, and it’s not because I disagree. (I don’t; I agree, but with the following caveat.) The final point is this:

6. Stop using the phrase “graphic novel” when it doesn’t fit. Not every comic book is fiction, and to see the war correspondence of Joe Sacco referred to as fiction instead of journalism is frustrating.

The problem I have with this is that the phrase “graphic novel” is all we have as a shorthand for “book-length comic that isn’t all superhero fisticuffs.” “Graphic Novel” has become the accepted term for all long-form comics (okay, okay, even superheroes), regardless of content. The proper Dewey subject classification is “graphic novels,” with no further specification as to fiction or non. I admit that I interfile mine by author, so the non-fiction ends up sandwiched between some fiction titles. (I could go into a long explanation of why, but conversations regarding what libraries do it which way and why last forever and aren’t very interesting.) Anyway, I don’t think it’s the fault of dumb reporters trying to use the lingo. I think the problem is that the lingo hasn’t been modified to include a term for long-form non-fiction comics.

What we need is a more accurate term that would be as recognizable as “graphic novel” is now. On various boards and discussion groups, some other terms have been bandied about: graphica, sequential art, graphic album, drawn book, the delightfully German compound “künstlerische Geschichte” (I have no idea what this translates to; if I’ve just posted something offensive; I apologize!), for starters. The most obvious suggestions I’ve seen are to use “graphic fiction” and “graphic non-fiction.” I’ve also read that, before his death, Will Eisner was trying to get the ball rolling on the term “graphic literature,” to replace the “graphic novel” term he coined.

In truth, though, I’m content to stick with the term “graphic novel” for now. It isn’t totally accurate, but it’s what we have. Comics are still fighting the good fight for mainstream recognition, and until that happens, I’m hesitant to change what we’re calling them. Mainstream consumers (i.e., many of my library patrons) are more bothered by the “graphic” part of the title than the implication that they’re all fiction. Once it’s a fully accepted truth that “graphic novel” is not the same as “sexually explicit pulp fiction,” then I think we can work on accuracy. The term is technically inaccurate, but for the moment, it’s the best we have.

Inquiring Minds

As a children’s librarian, I get a lot of questions. Some are pretty straightforward (“where are the shark books?” or “do you have Bailey School Kids books?”). Some are a challenge (“my daughter needs books on icon worship as it compares to traditional religions” or “I’m looking for a book I read once—there was a boy in it, and the cover was blue.”). And some questions catch even a seasoned librarian completely off guard.

“What’s that machine in the bathroom for, the one you put quarters in? What comes out?”

This from a nine- or ten-year-old boy who had just come out of said bathroom. After sizing him up for a moment to see if he was serious (he was), I did the best I could without explaining menstruation to someone else’s kid.

“It’s… something moms sometimes need.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, comprehension dawning. “Like diapers?”

“Um. Of a sort, yes.”

I do wonder if this kid went home and told his parents that the library dispenses diapers for a quarter apiece.

I’m melting!

I haven’t blogged much lately, which should be evident to even a casual reader. I’ve had things going on—tons of new books and graphic novels coming in, a crapload of shelf space that has opened up for me, rearranging the YA collection to take advantage of said shelf space, more storytimes, kids’ science activities, teen programs that keep tanking—but it’s just been too hot for me to organize any coherent thoughts. It’s too hot to think. It’s too hot to live.

I’ve been meaning to blog from work, where it’s air-conditioned and my brain works a little better, but—see above—I’ve been really, really busy. It’s hard to get even 15 minutes without interruptions. It’s hard to get ten minutes. Yesterday I took advantage of a lull to run across the street for a drink (I needed a stiff one; I had a regular iced tea). Total time outside the library: six minutes. But at the deli I ran into a patron who had all sorts of questions about storytellers and summer reading events. That’s how busy it’s been: we’re getting accosted with questions when we’re not even in the building.

We had an activity yesterday (making mini-kites, a craft project for the Read Up a Storm summer reading program) with about 20-25 kids in attendance. While my co-worker was tied up with that, I was doing circulation-type things (we’ve started leaving a bucket in front of the desk to take returns, to cut down on that work, at least), tracking the computer sign-ups, and helping at least three patrons with questions.

And yesterday wasn’t much different from any other day this week.

So if anyone’s waiting to hear from me, you’ll have to keep waiting. Because it’s too hot to think about what to say, and in one particular case it’s too hard to solve a mystery. (Though if you have advice regarding an untrustworthy barnyard animal, drop me another line.)

My First Preschool Storytime

It went... well, it's over.

Mostly it went pretty well--coworkers said I'm a natural, I shouldn’t have been nervous about this, and that I was awesome, though I sure didn't feel awesome. Right before I left the desk to go do it, a herd of about 20 kids came in from the Jewish Community Center, along with 3 of the JCC Camp Counselors (who ranged in age from 11 to 14). So figure a 7:1 ratio of kids:preteens. It’s very, very hard to keep control in that sort of situation, especially the first time out. A lot of them ended up talking amongst themselves, but relatively quietly. I just plunged on ahead for the 10 or 12 kids who were sitting with rapt attention.

I did cut it short, though, at 4 books instead of 5, since it seemed like I was losing them pretty rapidly at that point. (Book selections: The Enormous Potato, which was strangely the most popular; If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, which usually gets rave responses and this time fell kinda flat; Click Clack Moo, which seemed to bomb but then inspired a minor battle with people wanting to check it out; and Don't Let Pigeon Drive The Bus!, because I do so love the pigeon. Half the kids loved it; half the kids weren't listening. I put off my ace in the hole (I Lost My Bear), because I didn't want to "waste" my best and favorite book on an audience who was pretty clearly *done.* I'll give it a go next week (along with, maybe, some shorter books, too, though the potato was pretty short--and Pigeon doesn't have many words, either).

So, my first storytime is over. 30 kids. Gaaaaaaah. (And the singing! Oh lordy, the singing! Turns out that "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" has a range that I can't hit. Even in my usual off-key fashion, I just can't get the "mouth" note--"eyes and ears and ack! and nose; head, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees and toes.")

And as soon as I wrapped it up, the other children’s librarian here came back to lead the assembled crowd in Happy Birthday. Because it’s my birthday. She says, “Come on, how often do you get a crowd like that to sing you Happy Birthday?” She’s got a point, but it didn’t keep me from turning red. At least I didn’t have to do the singing.

TSRP = Teens Shun Reading Program

Thursday was the official beginning of our Teen Summer Reading Program. It was my first event for the summer—the Teen Read Café. The guiding principle behind the café is “show up, eat, get credit for the summer program. Eventually, cash in for prizes!” And yet… nobody showed up.

Now I'm 2 for 2. Nobody showed up to today's murder mystery, either, despite kids sounding interested in it. Despite kids asking about it, when it would be, "I'd like to come to that," etc. It was me in an empty room for 2 hours. (On the bright side, I got some reading done...)

I guess part of it might be that the Orthodox Jew population can't do anything on Saturdays, because they keep the Sabbath, and those are a lot of the kids who have asked about this. (This is something I hadn’t considered when planning the TSRP.) Some of them have expressed an interest in doing it on Monday instead, so we'll see if they actually show up. The other part... some kids work, some kids are on vacation, some kids are playing outside...? I dunno. Short form is, I've had two programs and they've both flopped miserably.

I’m told that last year’s TSRP was cancelled at the last minute, but there were some interested kids. This year, we have this hugely ambitious program planned, and nobody cares. Except me. Which is why I’ve been sitting in rooms all alone. A few parents have told me how much they like the schedule, and how great it looks, and “I’d like my kid to go to some of these things.” But then the kids don’t show up. It’s great to know I’m popular with the parents, but if the kids aren’t going to come anyway, what good does it do?

I'm just feeling demoralized, is all. This sucks.

Statistics Prove I’m Great!

YA Graphic Novel stats

June ’05 / May ’05 / June ’04 :: 90 / 68 / 1
2005 YTD / 2004 YTD / % Change :: 292 / 27 / 981

For those who missed it the first time, let me call attention to my awesomeness. Did you notice the NINE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-ONE PERCENT CHANGE over last year?

YA Fiction stats

June ’05 / May ’05 / June ’04 :: 222 / 173 / 179
2005 YTD / 2004 YTD / % Change :: 1034 / 779 / 32

32% is great, but … eh. It just can’t beat the thrill of 981%.

I'm back!

After a weekend spent camping in the wilds of northern New Hampshire (and running into a co-worker, actually!), I’m back to civilization and back to work.

I’m not sure how I feel about that second part. There’s been some shake-up at PPL, and our hours have changed pretty drastically. We’re down to only one shift a day now, instead of 2—which means we’re only open 2 mornings a week and 2 evenings. Patrons are not happy about that. And it’s not a just-for-the-summer thing—this schedule is supposed to last about a year, maybe more.

Because we’re cut back to one shift a day, they’ve shuffled some people around to different branches, to cover for some other people who are leaving voluntarily for various greener pastures—retirement, new jobs/careers, moving, maternity, etc. Nobody’s being kicked out, which is good. But my branch is being cut to the quick. We’re down to only two people in the children’s room, 2 ½ reference librarians (one of them a “floater” to substitute at other branches as needed; the other the head of our branch), and 4 clerks.

And today was crazy. Craaaaaaaaaaaaaazy. Crazy like a big crazy thing. People! From the moment we opened! (Which, incidentally, is a half-hour earlier than we’d been opening in the mornings, which was news to me when someone walked in at 9:40.) A storytime with about 30 kids! A community center bringing 18 small children to the library! Summer reading lists! Find me this! Get me that! I’m helpless! Whaddaya mean, you’re closing?

But I still liked it. I had fun, even though I wanted to scream a couple of times. And that’s what it’s all about, right?

Oh—and next week I’m in charge of the pre-school storytime. My (tentative) titles: Jules Feiffer’s I Lost My Bear and Bark, George (though I might swap George for The Daddy Mountain); Laura Numeroff’s If You Give a Mouse a Cookie; Jon Scieszka’s The True Story of the Three Little Pigs (by A. Wolf); and Aubrey Davis’s The Enormous Potato. I think there’s one more that I’ve put aside, but I can’t remember what it was. I’m hoping for something on the same over-the-top goofy theme.