Week Fifteen Prompt Response

My favorite way to market a fiction collection is also the most common: displays. Saricks agrees that it’s “one of the most effective ways to promote and market parts of our collections” (139). It’s easy to lose individual titles when you can only see the spines, so any excuse to get those books face out helps patrons differentiate and find something of interest. It’s bad to judge books by their cover, but if it works it works.

My library (along with probably every other library) is a big fan of displays, even when we don’t always have the room. So far, the branch where I work has mostly created thematic displays, which are extremely useful for patrons with certain interests. Displays on Amish romances, new mysteries, holiday cozies, book-to-movie adaptations, etc. are a great way to feature the collection’s variety and get patrons interested in what else the library has to offer. My favorite type of display (which I hope to use more in the future), though, are the more novelty displays. Blind Date with a Book, Anti Staff Picks (books the staff hated), Saricks’s idea of Good Books You May Have Missed (or, similarly, Recently Returned), and pretty much anything else that can immediately grab the patron’s attention are fantastic marketing opportunities.

The librarians at my work are also really good at integrating the fiction collection into their programming. There are often displays of similar titles next to signs for upcoming events (i.e. novels about quilting/craft clubs by fliers for quilting programs). The librarian who conducted the book club discussion (from earlier this semester) also makes a table of readalikes for each meeting’s book club title. The children’s librarians also do this with their storytimes, so this could really apply to any aspect of the collection. Combining relevant fiction titles to each program (whenever possible) can be a good way to market the collection and the program simultaneously.

A few prompts ago, someone on here (please tell me if it’s you!) suggested making a choose your own adventure for navigating horror titles, and this would also be an excellent idea for fiction in general. I would really like to formulate a big sign with a sort of J-14 style quiz* where a patron can choose between book length, tone, etc. (happy or sad, scary or heartwarming, funny or serious, etc.) and have each of the “results” boxes at the bottom have slips of paper with titles to choose from. This way, the patron could try something new, but there’s a lesser chance of another patron getting the same result (and the book not being available). It doesn’t necessarily even have to be this specific model, but any kind of interactive activity could help engage the patron with the collection. This would also really help with passive reader’s advisory, mixing the benefits of form-based and list-based RA (both of which were suggested by the State Library of Iowa in “Don’t Talk to Me”).

Finally (and this idea could end up being cheesy), my library’s been having big names in the community (newscasters, the mayor, etc.) do virtual storytimes during the pandemic and sharing it on their social media. A similar practice where local celebrities share their favorite/current reads from the library could also be a huge boost for the collection. They could make a video talking about their favorite book(s) for the library’s social media or just send a list for displays. “Don’t Talk to Me” also suggested use of shelf talkers in passive RA, which might be perfect for this. Regardless of format, their endorsement would be a really good way to market both the fiction collection and the library overall.

*J-14 Style quiz format (although the library version would obviously have different graphic design choices and no giant pictures of Tom Felton):

Week Fourteen Prompt Response

As someone who works at a library who’s had LGBTQ+-related controversy fairly recently, there’s been a lot of opportunity to think these kinds of issues over. The main reasons I can see someone wanting to separate LGBTQ+ fiction are either bigotry or wanting to find these titles easier. As Urban Fiction is an actual genre, the reasoning behind their separation may have additional motivations, although the first two options could also fit. Separating either genre would be completely wrong for my library, though, and I would choose instead to keep the books interfiled and create reading lists for those who seek out Urban Fiction or LGBTQ+ titles.

The easiest reason behind my decision is that my library doesn’t separate by genre, so singling out Urban Fiction would both be an odd choice (as we don’t carry many titles) and have really problematic implications (why single this genre out?). Furthermore, LGBTQ+ fiction isn’t a genre (there’s LGBTQ+ fantasy, romance, literary fiction, etc., which would just be interfiled with their respective genres), so even in a genre-separated library there would be no reason to single it out that didn’t lend itself to bigotry. When the Orange City PL tried separating by genre, it led to a petition to separate and label LGBTQ+ fiction, which then led to demands to censor LGBTQ+ fiction.

Similarly (in the case of LGBTQ+ fiction), separating due to bigoted complaints opens the door for further appeasement, as we saw with the Orange City PL being met with demands to “seek public input” before acquiring LGBTQ+ titles. In this case, separating/labelling materials would be censorship and put the library in danger of further censorship. In fact, the ALA urges against labeling (especially on a level of moral judgement), saying in the Freedom to Read statement that “The ideal of labeling presupposes the existence of individuals or groups with wisdom to determine by authority what is good or bad for others. It presupposes that individuals must be directed in making up their minds about the ideas they examine. But Americans do not need others to do their thinking for them.”

School Library Journal noted the possibility of separating for curricula purposes, and going along that vein a library could hypothetically separate their collection based on appeal factors as well. However, as many titles would fit in multiple sub-categories (under either organizational method), keeping reading lists would create much more robust selections and minimize confusion.

              

Most importantly, School Library Journal pointed out that keeping separate sections for LGBTQ+ fiction or Urban fiction singles people out and others them. Designating that patrons go to a certain space begs the question (in their words), “Is [the library] their space, or are they just visiting?” In the same article, Melissa McBride said that patrons feel othered by having to go to a certain shelf to get what they want. When these designated shelves are segregated by identity (or perceived identity, as there’s also an ongoing problem of people confusing Urban Fiction with African American fiction overall), it turns people into “subjects.” Additionally, separate LGBTQ+ sections are not only othering, but they could potentially “out” closeted patrons who want to safely explore their identity or feel represented. This is especially dangerous for young people who may have bigoted caregivers and limited access to information about themselves.

                               

Overall, not separating titles but curating robust reading lists is a good way to make sure those who want to see themselves represented can find the right titles without the library lending itself to bigotry or censorship. Furthermore, these lists (if shared through bookmarks or “cheat sheets”) can also help patrons who may be too shy to ask find titles of interest on their own. Readers’ advisors should be making these lists to better interview results anyway, so this is the easiest (and most ethical) option.

https://www.desmoinesregister.com/story/news/2018/03/21/library-change-lgbtq-content-grouping-change-orange-city-iowa/445970002/

https://www.slj.com/?detailStory=shelving-debate-separate-or-integrate

http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/freedomreadstatement

Week Thirteen Prompt Response

The idea that libraries shouldn’t promote or carry titles because they’re not “legitimate” is so funny to me. There was obviously a time where deciding what’s best for readers was a part of the library ethos, but those days are long gone. Our purpose now is to provide a variety of options for patrons to choose from- especially options that patrons enjoy. Restricting that variety (especially in areas that in my experience have been very popular) would go against our purpose. Keeping our library’s true values in mind (as well as the idea that “legitimate” can become a slippery slope) is the first step to ensuring our ability to adequately serve patrons.

I think the most important thing we can do is continually note the virtues of YA and graphic novels so that we can be informed advocates. Both formats are incredibly popular and cover a wide variety of genres, character types, settings, etc., so they check both the “provide variety” and “provide what patrons like” columns. They’re also lower-pressure reads (not unlike a lot of genre fiction) and can be more accessible to readers with different processing styles (especially graphic novels). YA titles (and oftentimes graphic novels as well) also tend to be more diverse than adult fiction, especially when it comes to LGBT+ representation. In “Urban Grit,” Honig noted that genres that are seen as less valuable are often those that are targeted toward underrepresented or vulnerable groups, specifically mentioning “comic books” being aimed at teenagers (xvii). Both YA and graphic novels are often targeted towards teens, but their higher representation level overall could also apply here (another reason to advocate for their continued use). YA and graphic novels can also provide alternative avenues/perspectives on traditional genres like romance or fantasy to their adult/imageless counterparts. What might be most important, though, is how popular (and oftentimes even prestigious) YA (Harry Potter, John Green books, Simon Vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, The Hunger Games, Children of Blood and Bone, etc.) and graphic novels (Watchmen/V for Vendetta, Sandman, Maus, Persepolis, Saga, Fun Home, Akira, etc.) have been. YA is growing even more popular as their past readers “age out” of it but still wants to stick with the genre, and Marvel didn’t make billions of dollars in movie adaptations for graphic novels to be ignored.

We can also make specific efforts to include these genres in daily work. This would not only justify their usefulness, but also help “legitimize” them by placing them alongside other aspects of the collection. Inclusion could start with keeping an open communication line with children’s/teen librarians to maintain an up-to-date understanding of YA. Similarly, we can read up on both YA and graphic novels to know the best classic, popular, and emerging titles to request and recommend to patrons. From there, we can include YA and graphic novel titles in both our displays and regular recommendations. My library has a number of YA duplicates that are also inter-filed with adult fiction because they’re so popular, which could also be a possible pathway for those afraid to get past the “YA” label. By including these genres in daily tasks, both adult readers who already like them and those who may not have considered them an option before will have greater representation and exposure. Maybe they will even create new readers and further justify our collection- Flanagan noted in “What Girls Want” that “I hate YA novels; they bore me” yet spent the entire article raving about Twilight. Even adult readers who normally dismiss these genres might just need the right title.

Once we are fully including YA and graphic novels, we should keep records of circulation statistics, title requests/holds, and interaction with display materials to prove their popularity. Award lists can probably help advocate titles’ quality, but proof that patrons interact with and enjoy these materials will be a good way to prove their popularity as well. The only major threat to being able to continue serving adult patrons who like these genres are those within the library system, and while I doubt anyone in the library would actually want to remove either of these genres, records of works’ quality and popularity should convince them.

Flanagan, C. (2008). What girls want: A series of vampire novels illuminates the complexities of female adolescent desire. The Atlantic, 108-120.

Honig, Megan. (2011). Introduction. In Urban Grit: A guide to street lit. Santa Barbara: Libraries Unlimited.

Week Twelve Prompt Response

THE READER'S ADVISORY MATRIX for The Book of Delights, by Ross Gay

Where is the book on the narrative continuum?

[X] Highly narrative (reads like fiction)

A mix (combines highly narrative moments with periods of fact-based prose)

Highly fact-based (has few or no narrative moments)

What is the subject of the book?

Joy- the author makes (semi)daily entries for a year about things that bring him delight

What type of book is it?

Short essays/Essayettes

Articulate appeal

What is the pacing of the book?: The book is leisurely paced but, since the entries are so short, it reads quickly.

Describe the characters of the book: It is not character-focused aside from the author, who is a poet residing in Bloomington, IN

How does the story feel?: Reflective, inspiring, thoughtful, and uplifting

What is the intent of the author?: To record and share joy

What is the focus of the story?: Everyday occurrences (nature, songs, turns of phrase, coffee, etc.) that inspire delight in the author’s life.

Does the language matter?: Yes! (as the author is a poet)

Is the setting important and well described?: It is not. Many entries are nature- or local-inspired, but only a few mention Indiana (or even Bloomington) specifically. It is not especially important to the story, but it is well described.

Are there details and, if so, what?: The book is almost entirely focused on details, from people’s reactions to seeing a tomato plant in an airport to the way a DeBarge song made him feel. Most are about the “little things” people may overlook in daily life.

Are there sufficient charts and other graphic materials? Are they useful and clear?: None

Does the book stress moments of learning, understanding, or experience?: All three, learning delightful things/how to emphasize them more, understanding the world (and each other) better, and experiencing life to its fullest

Why would a reader enjoy this book (rank appeal) 

1. Feel       2. Language    3. Details

My Brilliant Friend- Elena Ferrante

Author: Elena Ferrante (translated by Ann Goldstein) 

Title: My Brilliant Friend | Genre: Literary Fiction 

Publication Date: September 25 2012 (originally October 19 2011) 

Number of Pages: 331 | Series: Neapolitan Novels (#1) 

Geographical Setting: Naples, Italy | Time Period: 1950s

Plot Summary: 

Elena is the smartest child in her class, that is until Lila begins to outpace her. Thus begins a lifelong rivalry- and friendship. While their surrounding neighborhood sinks into further violence and disrepair, Elena and Lina are the only two who may escape the ever-tightening spiral. However, issues of class, family, and opportunity begin to shape and tear at their respective futures. The first of four novels, this dazzlingly written dual character study traces their friendship from early childhood through adolescence.

Characteristics for Literary Fiction:

Language/Style- Friend could technically be considered a “story-within-a-story device,” as it begins with an adult Lila missing and an adult Elena going through their shared friendship from childhood as a narrative frame (Saricks 75). Lyrical, poetic, and elegantly written, Ferrante repeatedly finds ways to convey complex, muddy relationship dynamics clearly (74).

Characterization- This book is extremely character-driven, with “richly realized, specific, and ‘of themselves’” characters (76). In fact, the characters are more important than the storyline itself, as they are the story (74). The primary focus is on Elena and Linu, but even secondary characters have complex motivations that resist stereotype or one-dimensionality. This characterization is done through “carefully crafter dialogue and strongly described behaviors, beliefs, actions, and reactions” to create “rich interior worlds” (76). The strongest point for this book’s characterization is the shifting dynamic between Elena and Linu. Both are simultaneously “likeable characters with whom readers identify” and what may be considered unlikeable characters, depending on the point of the book (76). At first, they are in direct opposition (with Elena as the relatable character and Linu as the unlikeable yet fascinating character), but each character shifts between the two states throughout the novel. Their relationship is central to the story (76).

Storyline- Ferrante “[reaches] into the past” to “offer observant, even provocative, commentary” on 1950s Naples, examining class, female friendship and rivalry, gender expectations, education, and the strains of provincial life (77). While this book has three sequels, its ending is “left open or ambiguous” (although the cliffhanger is seen through at the beginning of book 2) (74).

Frame/Setting- The novel centers around rivalry with themes of sexual politics, both of which Saricks listed as common topics in literary fiction (78). Similarly, her descriptions of 1950s Naples creates a “detailed background” to frame the main characters’ growth (78). Additionally, while this was not planned, Saricks even lists this series as an example in this section (“…authors transport readers across the globe, as occurs in…Elena Ferrante’s simmering Neapolitan series”) (78).

Read-alikes:

Nonfiction-

Naples Declared: A Walk Around the Bay- Benjamin Taylor

In the Shadow of Vesuvius: A Cultural History of Naples- Jordan Lancaster

Latin: Story of a World Language- Jurgen Leonhardt 

The Aeneid- Virgil

Fiction-

The Florios of Sicily- Stefania Auci

Swimming to Elba- Silvia Avallone

Sula- Toni Morrison

Something Like Breathing- Angela Readman

Summer Sisters- Judy Blume

Similar Authors: Catherine Dunne, Rachel Cusk, Jami Attenberg

Week Eleven Prompt Response

I never really thought of appeal factors as something that can be affected by the title’s medium. The appeal factors we’ve studied thus far center around the content of a book, such as themes, characterization, pacing, tone, and so on, but these factors do not change between formats. I would argue that differences in media do not affect these appeal factors at all, but are instead a matter of preference. The differences themselves, instead, create their own separate form of appeal factors.

Audiobooks are hands-down my favorite way to read. I can process information better through listening and multitasking, which audiobooks are perfect for. However, a big “unappeal” factor with audiobooks (for me, at least) is how slow the narration often is. A slow narrator can bog down a fast-paced story and distract from the plotline. However, many could find a fast narrator inaccessible and end up missing large parts of the story. These factors don’t affect the book’s content, but they do affect the reader’s experience of the content. This particular appeal factor can be solved through e-audiobooks, which thankfully have adjustable speed. Mediatore also notes pacing as an appeal consideration, along with the problem of choosing the right narrator (319). Narrator casting has never affected my reading experience beyond very mild annoyances*, and I’ve never encountered a patron who even mentioned an audiobook’s narrator. Just because I’ve never experienced this preference, though, does not mean it doesn’t still exist. Overall, audiobooks are a great medium for accessibility, as people with attention issues, visual impairment, different processing styles, etc. can still enjoy the same titles. These factors can help enhance a reader’s ability to interact with the title’s appeal factors.

Ebooks’ main appeal issue (and boon!) is also access. Not everyone has the physical technology to consume e-books, and not everyone is comfortable enough with their tech knowledge to figure the process out. On the other hand, the availability of differing font sizes, search features, color schemes, and built-in dictionaries are lifesavers. Not to mention- ebooks don’t require a flashlight when reading under the covers! While they are incredibly expensive to obtain, ebooks (especially ones with read-aloud features) are an accessibility godsend for people with sensory issues, learning disabilities, visual or hearing impairments, etc. Ebooks also provide the same experience as reading physical books, even to the point of still having page numbers/progress points. Like audiobooks, the format doesn’t change the content of the book, but instead provides more options for the reader to interact with the material. While audiobooks and ebooks are both excellent for making titles more accessible, they are also hindered by the “not real books” argument. Any format that differs from the traditional will be invalidated by this argument, and while I have trouble seeing the basis for this belief, it is a preference that needs to be anticipated from patrons in terms of appeal (or “unappeal").

Audiobooks and ebooks, as relatively new formats, definitely need appeal consideration. My question is, though, has there been a lot of consideration for traditional books’ format-based appeal factors? Traditional books are so often seen as the default that their physical form is erased. For example, I hate when books have deckled edges. I’ve also chosen not to read a book because of its font or spacing. Many people talk about specifically loving old books for their smell. Dozens of patrons at my work have put books back because the font was too small (or there wasn’t a large print copy available). One patron, when The Goldfinch had just come out on DVD, requested the large type edition only to find that it was 1,248 pages and sent it back. Who can comfortably hold a book that large? If format-specific appeals are becoming considerations, they should be applied everywhere.

While a book’s appeal factors are the same across all formats, format does affect the reader’s ability to interact with these factors. I’m still unsure as to whether or not the benefits and drawbacks of each format should be considered “appeal” or become its own set of classifications, but they should be considered nonetheless. To borrow from Ranganathan, every reader their format, and every format its reader.

*The narrator for Rainbow Rowell’s Landline pronounces the “t” in “Christmas,” and the entire book takes place over Christmas break. Also, Wil Wheaton narrates Ready Player One and you have to sit through a passage about how everyone in the book thinks Wil Wheaton is so awesome that they elected him president. No joke.

The Jump-Off Creek- Molly Gloss

Author: Molly Gloss | Title: The Jump-Off Creek | Genre: Western | Publication Date: August 3, 2005 Number of Pages: 208 

Geographical Setting: Oregon | Time Period: 1890s

Plot Summary: 

Lydia Sanderson, a woman of few words and even fewer means, invested in her independence by buying a farm near the Jump-Off Creek. After making a cross-country journey, she finds her new land gone to seed. Not only must she make something of the land by winter, but poachers have been stealing local farm animals to bait and poison wolves. She is determined to survive on her own, and quickly makes friends with her neighbors Tim Whiteaker and Blue Odell. Together, the three settlers set out for battle against nature, poverty, and wolfers’ greed.

Characteristics for Western:

Setting- This story is set against a “dangerous but beautiful backdrop” filled with “treacherous terrain” (Saricks 152). The opening chapters, which describe the end of Lydia’s passage to the Jump-Off Creek, describe especially treacherous terrain. There is also an “imprecision of time and place,” as the best way to determine where or when this book is set is to read the dust jacket. However, it is set in the Western United States (Oregon) between the Civil War and 1900 (1890s) (151). Since everyone is so separated from civilization, it is easy to lose all sense of time and place.

Characterization- Lydia combines the primary “loner” protagonist with the secondary “good woman” who “works to make a home in the wilderness” (152-3). She (as well as Tim and Blue) is stoic and taciturn, tackling hard work and impossible living conditions without batting an eye.

Storyline/ Theme- Saricks listed redemption and justice as common Western storylines. Lydia could count as “damaged characters seeking escape, healing, or redemption,” as she wants to begin her own life (no spoilers as to why) (153). This theme could also be attributed to other characters, although the side characters are written sparsely so it may require a stretch. Furthermore, Saricks lists “the difficulties of living in a harsh landscape” as a major Western theme, which is at least 80% of the book’s content (151). Justice also plays a mild role in the book, as the wolfers are presented as a form of villain. However, this justice comes at a price and is not played as strongly as in traditional Westerns.

Language/Style- Most of the book is devoted to describing work, and everything is told in a “straightforward fashion” (155). While the dialogue is not quite “monosyllabic” as Saricks cites, it is very sparse (155). Both the characters and the overall prose is very mater-of-fact, and Gloss does not shy away from gore, violence, or any other forms of unpleasantness.

Read-alikes:

Nonfiction-

The Magnificent Mountain Women- Janet Robertson

Pioneer Women: The Lives of Women on the Frontier- Linda S. Peavy

Bad Land: An American Romance- Jonathan Raban

Fiction-

Caroline- Sarah Elizabeth Miller

One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow- Olivia Hawker

The Trouble with Patience- Maggie Brendan

These is My Words- Maggie Snelling

Similar Authors: Kent Haruf, Sandra Dallas, Kaye Gibbons

Book Club Experience

I came to work early to attend my coworker’s book club. They were discussing The Light in the Ruins by Chris Bohjalian, and my answers might have some spoilers for the book itself (fair warning). Aside from the leader (my coworker), Linda (who was also observing), and myself, four other people attended the group. ILoveLibraries estimated about 8-16 people for book clubs, but this size group worked much better than that size would, since it gave everyone ample time to bond and share their thoughts.

http://www.ilovelibraries.org/booklovers/bookclub/start-a-book-club

Who is asking the questions, is there a leader or do people take turns?

My coworker was the conversation leader and asked most of the questions in order to get a discussion going. Some of the other attendees asked questions as they came up, but they were mostly for clarification.

If there is a leader, does the leader answer the questions as well or let the attendees respond first?

The discussion was very open, so my coworker would mostly pose questions to the group and share her impressions once the other attendees had shared theirs. It was very conversational, and she mostly let attendees get their share in. Her style reminded me of Hoffert’s discussion of the leader as a facilitator, as she guided the conversation when needed but could also step back and be a neutral presence too (which allowed the attendees to speak up).

https://www.libraryjournal.com/?detailStory=lj190401bookclubs

What type of questions are asked? Any involving just yes or no answers?

Most of my coworker’s questions centered around the attendees’ perceptions of the book (i.e. “What did you think of this book?”, “Did anyone try to figure out who did it? Was anyone right?”, “This character said they had to do this, but do you think they really had to?”, etc.). A few questions (like the last two examples) were yes or no questions, but they invited elaboration. None of the questions were closed to just a yes or no answer. She also shared a few of her own perceptions of the book, which were phrased as non-question questions (i.e. “I had thought this character was going to have a bigger role in the book…” which allowed attendees to weigh in on the character).

Most of the attendees’ questions were to clarify or ask the others’ opinions (i.e. “Was the murderer demented? Why did they do it?”, “This event was during the wartime, right?”, “Why did the murderer remove their hearts?”, “Was this character the one whose father was a surgeon or was that someone else?”, etc.).

Do all attendees actively participate? Do any attendees swoop in and steal all the spotlight?

All of the attendees had a good rapport already, so they were all very enthusiastic in sharing their thoughts about the book. They also jumped to connect the book to their own experiences and really seemed to bond over that personal discussion. No one “swept in” or “stole all the spotlight”- it was a very egalitarian conversation.

What is the atmosphere of the discussion, where is it taking place at?

The discussion was held in my library’s meeting room, and everyone sat in chairs around pushed-together tables. It was a very friendly and informal atmosphere, with a smaller group than usual (four people). Everyone seemed to already know each other (although name tags were still provided), so it felt like a lot like a social meeting even though the discussion was about the book.

Are snacks or drinks provided?

The book group was called the “Coffee Talk” book discussion, so there were snacks and coffee available. My coworker said she tries to go to local businesses for snacks- today was different kinds of candies (truffles, marshmallows, etc.).

What types of books does this book club normally discuss?

This group apparently discusses a variety of books, but mostly historical fiction. They discussed trying more nonfiction at the end of the meeting, offering histories or biographies as options. The books they listed for previous meetings appear to be close to literary or relationship fiction as well (but primarily historical). It reminded me of the Vienna Court Book Club in Goldstein’s article, since everyone’s encouraged to recommend books that align with their personal preferences (33).

https://www.ulib.iupui.edu/cgi-bin/proxy.pl?url=https://search-ebscohost-com.proxy.ulib.uits.iu.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsglr&AN=edsgcl.132845050&site=eds-live

Special Topics Paper- Perceived Bias

There are myriad articles discussing how to recognize one's own bias and how to try and diminish it as much as possible in daily work. However, my library (and I'm sure many other libraries in the United States) has had issues with patrons claiming that having certain materials (almost always on a diversity basis) was "pushing an agenda." This perceived bias ends up creating a lot of confusion, as neutrality can be interpreted either as "showing everything" or "avoiding controversy." I chose to explore how to define neutrality, bias, and how to navigate these perceived biases in readers' advisory.

When I looked into it, the ALA said that "showing everything" is the only way to be neutral, and librarians should actively encourage political discourse and not fear controversy. An editorial in PublicLibrariesOnline argued that libraries should be politically neutral, but defined political neutrality as showing information on all candidates and political parties. It did not go into specific politicized issues, though, which is where the issue of perceived bias lies. Another editorial in SchoolLibraryJournal argued that libraries are inherently biased, as they have clear positions on issues like diversity and inclusion that are often highly politicized. Furthermore (they argued), libraries should embrace this bias instead of creating a false neutrality and clashing with their core beliefs.

My conclusion was that this perceived bias wasn't actual bias, in fact it was the opposite. Making recommendations with a diverse set of creators, subjects, and themes reinforces the ALA's definition of neutrality. As long as the chosen titles are based on the reader's initial requests (appropriate genre, appeal terms, etc.), there is no reason to fear recommending them. When the conversation goes from representing "x" and "y" group to "I think you should represent x and y" and "I don't think you should represent y," neutrality is completely lost. You cannot disguise censorship as political neutrality.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles- Agatha Christie

                                                                

Author: Agatha Christie | Title: The Mysterious Affair at Styles | Genre: Mystery

Publication Date: October 1920 | Number of Pages: 296 | Series: Hercule Poirot Mysteries (#1)

Geographical Setting: Essex, England | Time Period: Summer of 1917

Plot Summary: 

Arthur Hastings, wounded captain and aspiring amateur detective, is invited to Emily Inglethorp’s estate while he is on leave. After introductions (and many suspicious conversations about poisons), Mrs. Inglethorp mysteriously dies of a heart attack- or was she poisoned? Enter Hercule Poirot- an eccentric, arrogant, and brilliant ex-police detective. As Poirot digs through the last hours of Inglethorp's life, Hastings is convinced that signs point to her widower, but is he as guilty as he seems?

Characteristics for Mystery:

Private/Police/Amateur Detective- Poirot is an ex-police detective who now works as a private detective. His characterization is much more like a private detective, as he is a “self-reliant loner who operate[s] independently” (Saricks 59). Hastings is an amateur detective, which, like private detectives, “can devote all their time to a single case” (59). 

Characterization- Hastings (the protagonist) and Poirot (the detective) are both dedicated to this case "whether they're paid or not, whether they're on the job or off" (54). Saricks also adds that "Captain Hastings ably aided Hercule Poirot in a number of his investigations" (54). While Hastings is the narrator (and arguably the protagonist), he provides a balance against Poirot as a novice to his expert.

Pacing- Like Saricks warned, "the investigative details... necessarily slow the story and make all of them progress at a more leisurely pace" (57). While many clues are found, ample time is taken to deliberate over them.

Series- This is the first of 39 Poirot mysteries (according to Agatha Christie's website). While series is not unique to the mystery genre, Saricks listed it as the first thing fans expect (62).

 https://www.agathachristie.com/stories?format=novel&character=hercule-poirot&sorting=yearFirstReleased

Read-alikes:

Nonfiction-

Poisons: from Hemlock to Botox to the Killer Bean of Calabar (Peter Macinnis)

If I Die—(Michael Fleeman)

Arsenic and Clam Chowder: Murder in Gilded Age New York (James D. Livingston)

 Did she kill him?: a Victorian tale of deception, adultery, and arsenic (Kate Colquhoun)

Fiction-

Unnatural Death (Dorothy L. Sayers)

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Alan Bradley)

Missing Joseph (Elizabeth George)

The Hunting Party (Lucy Foley)

Suddenly at His Residence (Christianna Brand)

Similar Authors: Louise Penny, M.C. Beaton, Ngiao Marsh, Emma Lathen

Week Seven Prompt Response

Are hoax memoirs still worth reading? Barnes and Noble seems to think they are, but I doubt that any store would say a title they carried wasn't worth it. A better question might be “what is the value of hoax memoirs?”, to which this article would probably say somewhere between $8.99 and $16.32. I'd say that these books aren't memoirs, and the second this is exposed these books lose all value. Readers can't get the same benefits that they would from nonfiction, and the books often translate badly into fiction. If a reader is looking for sensationalism, they can find bigger scandals in books intended as fiction. If they are looking for insights into history, social issues, or the human condition, they're better off with real nonfiction. 

A bigger problem with false memoirs (and what especially bothered me about this article) is that they tend to gravitate towards serious societal issues and end up negatively impacting the conversation. The books B&N listed covered (respectively) sexual abuse, addiction, prisoner abuse, addiction (again), Nazis, and racism. There is no way to lie about these topics in a way that creates progress on any of these issues. Stories like Go Ask Alice or A Million Little Pieces end up sensationalizing and/or contributing to stigmas surrounding addiction. Ones like The Awful Disclosures, Papillon, or Odd Man Out that lie about (or exaggerate) larger social issues like sexual abuse, prisoner abuse, or racism trivializes factual accounts by contributing to the fallacy that if one person is exaggerating, anyone/everyone could be. Furthermore, these appropriated narratives take focus and resources away from actual victims.

The worst part of this article, though, was the review of Helen Dale’s The Hand that Signed the Paper. This book completely fabricates a tale in which Nazis are “liberators” and the main characters happily join Nazi ranks. B&N stated explicitly that this book is completely false, and went on to say that many view this book as antisemitic (if the premise wasn’t enough of a sign). This book has no historical or factual basis and promotes the aggressors of one of the most horrendous crimes against humanity in modern history- what could possibly be the value of this book? I can’t fathom a reason why anyone would fabricate a sympathetic portrayal of Nazis (aside from propaganda), and I certainly cannot fathom how this book could have any literary or societal value.

Barnes and Noble argues that The Hand that Signed the Paper’s merits are that “if you take the book to be a complete work of fiction, it’s still a powerful historical story with some basis in reality, and a thought-provoking and often emotionally powerful read.” This personally feels like a reach, and it’s certainly filled with enough vague buzzwords to tell the reader nothing about the book’s content. This review is about as empty and purposeless as false memoirs themselves, and the looming $14.99 doesn’t make it more convincing. Furthermore, the article’s eagerness to promote a sympathetic portrayal of Nazis is a bad look for the company.  

Since so much of the hype around false memoirs is the hoax itself, we’d all be better off if we just read the exposé and left it at that.

Article in question: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/5-hoax-memoirs-still-worth-reading/

Week Six Prompt Response

Just because Valentine’s Day is over doesn’t mean romance is dead. Yes, it’s time to put away Blind Date with a Book, but why not bring out our Bingo cards instead?

The romance genre has more than enough tropes and subgenres to fill out plenty of pre-made cards, and this way patrons can discover their new favorite niche. Furthermore, many of the categories can apply to books, movies, TV shows, graphic novels, etc., so it’s perfect for integrated advisory. If patrons have any trouble filling out boxes, advisory staff is there to help them out. Patrons can mark off squares as they read, watch, and listen, and when they get bingo (or blackout) they can get a prize.

Some category ideas: Scottish romance, “Duke” in the title, established relationship, love triangle, Amish romance, “foot pop” kiss, enemies to lovers, poetry, confession in the rain, forbidden love, historical romance- I could go on!

The Peach Keeper- Sarah Addison Allen

                                                              

Author: Sarah Addison Allen | Title: The Peach Keeper | Genre: Gentle Reads

Publication Date: March 22, 2011 | Number of Pages: 304

Geographical Setting: Walls of Water, North Carolina | Time Period: Modern Day

Plot Summary: Willa Jackson is trying make up for her ne’er-do-well past. Paxton Osgood is trying to leave her family’s expectations and start her own future. As the re-opening of the abandoned and possibly haunted Blue Ridge Madam looms closer, strange things are happening in Walls of Water, North Carolina. Willa and Paxton, as heirs-apparent to the Women’s Society Club, will have to rediscover their past- and perhaps find themselves along the way.

Characteristics for Gentle Reads:

Cleanliness- This book has little to no sex or profanity. There is allusion to and minor threat of violence, but no actual violence shown. Similarly, the story’s values are mostly old-fashioned.

Language/Style- Utilizing simple, homespun language, Allen creates a relaxed, domestic atmosphere. 
Tone- The book has an "optimistic, even comforting ethos" that leads to "comfort and Catharsis" (Saricks 195).

Setting- The story takes place in a small Southern town where everyone has known each other for generations.

Plot/Character- None of the stakes are especially high, which leads to a fairly leisurely-paced plot. The story's conclusion is "resolved and satisfying" and the characters end up "in balance with themselves, their lives, and each other" (Saricks 195.) The story is much more character-driven, and there is little to no "man vs. man"-style conflict. A main focus is the "character's arc of personal development," focusing on Willa and Paxton primarily and their respective love interests (Colin and Sebastian) secondarily (Saricks 194). Everyone knows each other and (mostly) gets along.

Read-alikes:

Fiction-

Big Stone Gap (Adriana Trigiani)

The Book Charmer (Karen Hawkins)

Queen Bee Goes Home Again (Haywood Smith)

Similar Authors: Lauren Groff, Fannie Flagg, Alice Hoffman, Suzanne Palmieri

Nonfiction-

For fans of Willa’s coffee shop: Top 100 Coffee Recipes: a Cookbook for Coffee Lovers (Mary Vard)

For fans of the Women’s Society Club: The Red Hat Society (Sue Ellen Cooper)

For fans of the Peach Tree itself: Eat Your Yard! (Nan K. Chase)

Week Five Prompt Response

1) Different publications review different types of books and they allow different types of conversations. For example, Booklist will not publish negative reviews, while, as you have all seen, Kirkus has no problems with it. Ebook only books, which are increasingly popular (especially in the romance genre) see little to no reviews in professional publications unless they have a big name author, and then still it's usually only RT Reviews (formally Romantic Times) or other genre heavy publications. How does this affect collection development?

Every source having different rules and procedures is bound to make the collection development process disorienting. It’s hard to compare or get a comprehensive sense of a title with uneven coverage. It’s also hard to get a good sense of a title with only one review source as well, so it’s not exactly like acquisitions staff can avoid this issue. The ability to track down an even selection of titles with consistent reviews seems to take a great deal of effort and critical thought, and anything less will make a collection suffer (which seems incredibly unfair to acquisitions staff, the library, and its patrons).

Issues of omission, such as negative reviews with Booklist or ebook only titles, make it almost impossible to judge (let alone select) something for a collection. Reviews are supposed to be a tool to help inform readers about what’s out there (and whether it’s worth exploring), but how can they do that if they deliberately leave titles out? It’s almost impossible to collect everything (especially considering the size of the Internet), but purposeful omission will keep acquisition staff from making informed decisions.

2) Look over the [The Billionaire’s First Christmas] reviews - do you feel they are both reliable? How likely would you be to buy this book for your library?

Even though the reviews don’t seem to be very professional, I think that they give a good insight into what patrons may say about the book itself. I would want to look at more reviews to get a better sense of the book and stronger reliability, especially since there’s no guarantee that the two reviews are impartial (for example, the Amazon review could have been from a friend of the author). Since the book is free from Amazon, it wouldn’t be any cost to acquire. However, there seem to be many books similar to this, so it may set a precedent to get any book just because it’s free. Unless there is a known patron demand for this title or author, I would most likely skip this title.

3) How do the reviews make you feel about the possibility of adding Angela's Ashes to your collection?

The breadth of reviews speak to the title’s prestige more than the content. Sad and hopeful memoirs are a huge genre, and many people have strong connections to their content. However, I personally find it hard to distinguish one from the other based on pure summary. The fact that these four major reviewers were uniformly impressed (“extraordinary work in every way,” “a wonderful book; strongly recommended,” “expect demand…from word of mouth thereafter,” “a vivid, wonderfully readable memoir”) speaks strongly to the book’s virtues.

Frankly, even mixed reviews would have made me consider adding it to the collection (possibly sparking a conversation among patrons to the title’s merits). Since everyone seems to agree that this book is truly exceptional (and apparently also quite buzz-worthy), I wouldn’t hesitate to add it to the collection.

4) Do you think it’s fair that one type of book is reviewed to death and other types of books get little to no coverage? How does this affect a library’s collection? 

This is unfair to a degree. While books should have a fair chance at review, there are limited resources with which to do this. This is especially true with the rise in self-publishing- how can a source identify, let alone read and review, thousands of titles scattered across the internet? Many good (or even excellent) titles are definitely being ignored, and there should be a stronger effort to find, review, and acquire them. At a certain point, though, there may be a risk of information overload.

I am unsure how reader/patron interest (or potential interest) plays a role in what does or doesn’t get reviewed. If selection is skewed towards what people are more likely to read, this practice could be slightly (but only slightly) justifiable. At what point would that become a self-fulfilling prophecy, though?

This practice definitely hinders a library’s collection, as they are bound to miss out on great but overlooked titles. Depending on the library’s acquisitions budget, though, a smaller selection from which to choose may be a silver lining.

5) How do you feel about review sources that won't print negative content? Do you think that's appropriate?

Refusing to print negative content is a complicated but ultimately negative practice. It definitely becomes an issue if the source reviews all books. This can easily lead to misleading false praise. One could argue that if they only print reviews of “good” books, it allows the reader to only focus on positive titles and (especially in a library sense) know what to select more efficiently.

However, it also keeps the reader from being able to determine a title’s merits for themselves. For example, Kirkus’s review for Blood Crime outlined how ridiculous the book seemed, but many readers purposefully seek out “ridiculous” books for a light, fun read. At a certain point it just becomes self-censorship. Readers can always check another source, but at this point why not just go to the other source instead?

I definitely understand the pressure to not alienate anyone with negative reviews, but if there is a reasonable opportunity to give a full spectrum of reviews, everyone will benefit.

6) How do you feel about reviews for personal reading, and what are some of your favorite review sources?

(I do not have any acquisitions responsibilities at my workplace)

I almost never read reviews for personal reading. I try to know as little as possible about a title going in, mostly because I find that reviews (or even back-of-the-book synopses) skew my perception of the book. I end up going in with expectations that are completely different from what the book actually delivers and it throws me off mid-read. Everyone reads differently, though, and I can definitely see why other people may want to read reviews before diving into a new book.

I do like informal reviews (mostly word of mouth). The most formal review source I check is Goodreads, although I don’t use it very much. Friends, coworkers, patrons, and (occasionally) Tumblr make up most of my unofficial review sources.