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One of the many interesting things about being a children’s librarian is that there are always opportunities to do “extras.”  I think of extras as activities related to the field, but not necessarily part of the real job.  Some you might even get paid for, which means you can’t use work time to do any part of them.  For me those include doing puppet shows for other libraries and birthday parties, and an occasional paid article.  Which actually works out fine for me most of the time:  they do take up precious weekend and evening time, but on the other hand, I don’t have to feel guilty that I didn’t clean the gutters last weekend because “I was working.”   

Once in a while an “extra” project can be a bit more of a handful than I hoped, though.  A few years ago I taught a course on Children’s Literature for Elementary School Teachers for the first time, and that was a whole lot of extra.  I hadn’t taught before, but I did know the subject and although it was a ton of work, it ended up going pretty well.  Next time I get the chance, I thought, it will be easy.  Just repeat the best parts and improve the not-best parts.

I’m getting that second chance this summer.  Kind of.  I will be teaching a class, but this time the topic is “Multicultural Literature for Elementary School Teachers.”  Which is a very different kind of challenge.  My theme for the earlier course was pretty much:  “let’s look at all the great children’s book and figure out effective ways to share them with kids.”  And that kept us very busy.  This time it won’t be so simple.  I have read a lot of multicultural books, but haven’t thought that much about the field of multicultural education, which is filled with theories, clashing philosophies, and plenty of controversy.  So now, besides reading and rereading multicultural books, I’m also reading textbooks and academic articles and scholarly arguments.  My commute on the light rail, which used to be a time to relax and read for pleasure (mostly short books with big print), is now a time to study and take notes and read to learn (mostly long books with tiny print). 

It’s not what I’m used to, but I have to admit it’s pretty interesting.  I’m learning a lot:  everything from countless and varied definitions of what multicultural literature is to the crucial differences between “literary reading” and “multicultural reading.”  So far I seem to be coming up with more questions than answers, but I’m okay with that.  If teaching a class meant you had to know all the answers, I would be in big trouble.

Meanwhile, I’ve vowed not to read anything (besides picture books) that doesn’t fit into a multicultural literature category for the next few months.  And so far I’m doing pretty well.  I slipped a bit when I read The Willoughbys (but it was so short!), and have already given myself advance permission to read the new Hillary McKay and Diana Wynne Jones books that are due out soon, because I know I will anyway.  But other than those exceptions, I’m having a great time discovering new multicultural titles and older ones that I had missed, plus rereading some standards (Zeely is still a great book!); and a not- so-fun, but still rewarding time reading all of that scholarly stuff with the small print.   

A ten year old recently asked me if I knew any good new books to recommend.  I headed to the new book shelf and was pleased to see Jacqueline Woodson’s Feathers neatly displayed.  I had read this book.  I enjoyed it.  And I thought at the time that it was one that might need and deserve a little extra pushing to get it in the hands of the right readers.  So here was my chance.  The only problem was, I could hardly remember a thing about it.  It was beautifully written, I was sure about that.  Definitely thought provoking, though I couldn’t recall exactly how.  A little different from the usual school novel.  And it’s a Newbery Honor book.  But not one of those things was going to do me a bit of good while trying to convince this girl to read it.  If I had remembered a story detail or two, maybe something about the character, I might have had a chance.  A glance at the book jacket jarred my memory, and she ended up at least thinking about checking the book out, but it wasn’t my finest reader’s advisory moment. 

This has nothing to do with Feathers, which (now that I’ve reminded myself of the details) really is a great book to recommend.  It’s just that I think I read it in the same couple weeks I read half a dozen other children’s novels, four of which featured female characters, and three of which took place in school.  And since then, I’ve read another several dozen books.  And I just can’t keep track of them all. 

Reader’s advisory is one of my favorite areas of children’s librarianship, but it’s never easy, and I think I know why:  It’s the Reader’s Advisory Paradox:  To be really good at reader’s advisory, you have to read a lot of books.  But the more books you read, the harder is to keep them all straight so you can do effective reader’s advisory. 

Over the years I’ve tried many methods to keep track of my reading systematically, noting key plot elements, booktalk possibilities, genres, and all the rest.  Most of us children’s librarians are book readers and organizers, so it should be possible.  I’ve tried 3 by 5 cards at least twice (and even 4 x 6’s once), but never kept it up.  Same with Microsoft Word tables.  And Excel spreadsheets.  I got excited about LibraryThing at one point, then promptly forgot to add any titles for several months.  My wiki project lasted even shorter.  So even Web 2.0 isn’t saving me.

It goes back to that same paradox.  I don’t have time to write stuff down (or enter it onto the latest web tool), because I’m too busy reading.  And the more I read, the more books I have to write down (in whatever way my latest method requires), so I fall further behind.  In the end, though, I do think reading a lot is the most important, even if I don’t have the total recall I wish for.  I just have to accept the fact that sometimes I have to say:  “you know, I read this book, and I liked it, but I really don’t remember it so well.”  And that’s okay as long as I can also say:  “so let’s try another.”

Last week was the first meeting of the new “Father-Son Book Group” at the Hillsboro Public Library, where I work as a substitute Reference Librarian and, starting now, as a once-a-month book group host.  Here’s what I’ve learned so far: 

It will take a while to get going:   Our first meeting drew only two dads and two sons (both age nine).  We had many people asking about the program and checking out the book of the month (Frindle), but it will be a challenge to actually draw them in on a Saturday morning.  All four promised to return next month, and their homework is to find some more people to bring along.    

Reading is not as uncool as it used to be:   I was all prepared to get things started with my sad childhood stories of how I never talked about reading with anyone but my family because it was so uncool to be a boy reader…but it wasn’t really necessary with this bunch.  These four all had no problem being reading males…as one of the boys said:  “you can’t lose at reading.”  We just need to find more guys like them. 

Harry Potter rules the world:   Our Frindle discussion was peppered with references to Harry Potter (one book that I didn’t include on my Frindle Read-Alikes handout).  The HPs provide common ground to so many diverse readers.  Dads and kids all knew them well, and used them as reference points.  “Did the illustrations of Nick match your imagination?”  “No, and neither did Snape in the Harry Potter movies.”  “There wasn’t a lot of life or death action in Frindle, but was it exciting?”  “Yes, but not in the same way as the Harry Potter books.”  “Did Nick or Mrs. Granger change through the events in Frindle?”  “Yes, just like Harry and company.”  I’m exaggerating the abruptness of the transition….we really did talk a lot about Frindle, and HP provided some useful context that helped us define and think about the book we just read. 

Dads and Sons See Things Differently:   I really enjoyed the way both fathers were willing participants in the discussion, rather than leaders or facilitators. And the generational perspectives were clearly evident.  Mrs. Granger reminded one boy of a teacher he knew about who was known for being very strict.  Dad, on the other hand, added that this particular teacher was also one of the best at his son’s school, despite or because of that strictness.  Which is a great example of the two relating the book to their different perspectives on shared experiences.  

Dads and Sons See Things Similarly:   One boy didn’t see why the neighborhood entrepreneur made a fortune from Frindle products, when it was all Nick’s idea.  I expected the older and wiser fathers to mention something about the crucial role of marketing in a capitalist society.  But instead, one of the dads totally agreed that the money that guy made was unfair, then shared his own irritation at modern hip hop musicians who lift samples from the works of truly creative musicians, and then get all the credit.     

Don’t Forget the Donut Holes:   Our snack choice was donut holes, and I bought more than enough, since I didn’t know how many people would show up.  It was pretty impressive how many of these the four participants (especially the two younger ones) managed to put away.  Providing snacks is one of my least favorite program related tasks, and I felt a bit guilty about not coming up with some clever food that relates to the book somehow, but I think I’ll be okay.  I don’t foresee any complaints from these readers if it’s donut holes every time. 

It’s Nice to Have Room to Grow:  Our attendance was low, but the participants were so enthusiastic that I can’t help but think that we’ll grow.  There doesn’t seem to be many book groups like this, but there might be soon.  Author Marc Aronson started one at the Maplewood Library in New Jersey a few years ago and wrote a nice article about it and the Geneva Public Library in Illinois has “The Round Table,” which is for boys plus an adult of any gender.  And Scott County Public Library’s “Pig Skulls” book club looks like terrific fun, as you can see from their blog.  As for our Hillsboro group:  no catchy title yet, and we’re a ways away from a blog, but I’m definitely looking forward to hearing what the guys think about Weasel next month.     

I just got a batch of YAs and adult mysteries in as candidates for review. How do I choose?

If you have a $25 bookstore gift certificate, how do you pick from a large room filled with many good books?

On the mystery side of things:
- I started one that was covered with blurbs from pretty much everyone in the business. An amazing number for a first-author, but then again he lives in LA and has more chances to network. The premise sounded intriguing: a professional clean-up guy, hired to make crime scenes as if they never happened, finds himself the target of a killer. But the longer I read, the more preposterous it was. In this imaginary world, there are lots of freelance spies working for shadowy government agencies, and each of them serves as a mentor to a younger person. It’s like some kind of weird guild. I wasn’t willing to suspend so much disbelief.
- A book with wonderful pre-pub reviews, told from four women’s POVs. All of the women were damaged, and most of them had done damage. It was well-written, but I decided I didn’t want to spend hours in a world where people are using drugs, hating themselves, having sex with people they don’t like, recounting how they killed their children, etc.
- A book by a first-time author. Kind of a basic plot: man’s wife is killed, and he’s the primes suspect once the cops discover he had an affair. He uncovers a web of deceit - but it’s a very well thought-out web, one that took me to places I didn’t imagine. The dialog was first rate, the characters real. The one thing I thought as a writer was that it was very hard to make two characters who were mostly off-stage (one was the dead wife) alive for the reader. But I liked the book enough to pitch it to my editor.

Let’s move on to the YAs.
- A book with a so-so cover, quote from Tamora Pierce on the back, jacket flap describes secret race of people who live under polar ice cap or something like that. A probable pass.
- An eye-catching cover of a dandelion clock. Lots of great reviews on the back for the authors’ other books, as well as a listing of awards. Would kids care? I don’t know. As an adult – a parent, teacher, or librarian , and especially as a reviewer, I like to see these things. Jacket flap says it’s about a girl who gets some drawing paper that turns out to be magic. I’ll read at least part of it.
- A book with a yellow tennis ball on the cover, a pull quote from the book on the back, and a jacket flap that says it’s about being a tennis phenomenon. A maybe.
- A book with a murky picture of some kids caring swords, a two-headed dog, and a glowing green castle. And a tiny note saying the book was previously published under another name. On the back, a quote from Tamora Pierce. A pass, because the book isn’t new.

Authors usually can’t determine covers (although they may have “cover consultation” which means the publisher shows it to you and might or might not listen if you hate it.) Authors can and should offer to proof their jacket flap copy. I’m going to work hard to have a listing of awards AND a quote from another author who writes similar books on the back of my next YA. I should have insisted on it last time.





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