Matched vs. Delerium

I've noticed something recently in my reading: dystopia is cool. It seems like all of the big books of the last few years have been either post-apocalyptic or dystopian lit. Suzanne Collins's Hunger Games trilogy is the most notable example of this trend but it is by no means the only one. Besides that you've got the Maze Runner series, the Uglies series, Unwind, Incarceron, and many more. Heck, Paolo Bacigalupi's Ship Breaker even won the coveted Printz Award this year.

Now I have had a soft spot for dystopias ever since I was eleven years old and read The Giver by Lois Lowry. It was My First Dystopia and I was hooked. I count 1984 and Brave New World among my favorite books and I was literally in hysterics when I got ti meet Lois Lowry a few months ago at an award speech in St. Louis. So I wasn't exactly reluctant to read the crop of new teen novels featuring flawed future societies--and, of course, romance. Enter Delerium by Lauren Oliver and Matched by Ally Condie. So how do they compare? Read on to find out.

Matched by Ally Condie

The Story: Cassia lives in a society where every aspect of her life has been decided. The Society decides where its citizens will work, where they will live, who they will marry, and even when they will die . When Cassia is "matched" with her childhood best friend, Xander, Cassia is very pleased. That is, until she falls in love with a very different boy--Ky, an outsider with a secretive and tragic past. This new, forbidden love calls into question everything that Cassia once believed without question and forces her to discover exactly what she is willing to risk for the people she loves.

The Hero: Ky Markham, the aforementioned outsider. He has a dark history with the Society that has left him disenchanted and skeptical. Intelligent and passionate, he understands Cassia in a way that Xander doesn't. He teachers her to write in an age when hand-lettering has been completely forgotten. Together Cassia and Ky hike in the woods and share poetry. Sigh.

The Society: Everything is regulated. The Officials record everything down to who wins games of checkers. They use everything they learn to remove the "burden" of choice from the lives of the citizens.

Grade: B+

Delerium by Lauren Oliver

The Story: In Lena Haloway's future, love has been cured. At the age of eighteen, every citizen undergoes an operation to prevent the "delirium" (amor deliria nervosa) that accompanies falling in love. But love isn't the only thing that's outlawed--so is good music and "uncureds" interacting with members of the opposite sex. Lena is looking forward to her cure, though, and to the safety it will bring. That is, until three months before she is Cured, when she meets a mysterious and confident boy named Alex who makes her brave and reckless. Suddenly Lena isn't so anxious to be Cured if it means that she will lose Alex.

The Hero: Alex Sheathes, a boy unlike any Lena has every met before. He takes her to forbidden places and reads her long-forgotten poetry (yes, again). What's more, he is courageous, generous, and kind. And the chemistry between these two characters is off the charts.

The Society: It's a bit like the London of 1984 but with an added bonus. Love is a disease that has been completely eradicated. Interactions are restricted and media is closely monitored. What makes it eery is how similar the daily lives of the citizens are to real lives. They jog, they work after-school jobs they hate, they have sleep overs. It feels all too plausible for comfort.

Grade: A

So what's the difference?

These two are so similar that it might be difficult to tell them apart if all you had to go on was a synopsis like this. Both heroines are rule-following white sheep and both heroes are rebels with mysterious pasts who are somehow outside of society. (Aren't they always?) So what's the difference?

Chemistry. The chemistry between Lena and Alex is off the charts. Their romance develops fairly slowly, allowing the reader plenty of time to get to know the characters as individuals and they compliment each other so well. I didn't care as much about Ky and Cassia, though. That may have been because I liked Cassia's intended Match, Xander, better than Ky. In addition, you learn a lot about where Ky has come from but I didn't feel like I actually got to know Ky. He never took shape as a real person for me the way Alex did.

Unputdownability. I listened to Delirium as an audiobook in my car and on more than one occasion I sat in my car to listen even after reaching my destination. I could not stop reading. In fact, this may be one I end up purchasing, despite my limited shelf space. Matched also gets high points in this category, though. I'm a big fan of audiobooks so I listened to this one, too, and I was plugged in to my headphones at every free moment. But my heart didn't race when I was listening to Matched like it did for Delirium.

Conclusion. I found myself thinking about Lena and Alex for days after I finished reading. Their story examines the true meaning of sacrifice. In a word, it was haunting. Want proof? I am by no means an emotional girl. I think I've probably cried twice in the last six months. One of those times was at the ending of Delirium. Researching the interwebs, I find that the sequel, Pandemonium will be out in early 2012. (I'm positively peeing my pants with excitement--I've already pre-ordered my copy!)If I had known that this book was the first in a series when I was reading it, I wouldn't have cried as hard. Okay, yes I would. It's that good. On the other hand, Matched is the first book in a new series. After finishing it, though, I didn't feel rabid for the next installment the way I usually do. I'll read Crossed (the second book) when it comes out this fall but I feel confident that I'll be just fine waiting for it without wetting my pants.

Winner: Delirium for its haunting alternative society, realistic characters, and thrilling, sweaty-palmed romance and for the way the ending balanced tragedy and hope.

The Free Library?

I currently have eighteen books checked out from the library. As an avid reader, this isn't atypical. If anything, eighteen books is a little on the low side--I think my record is somewhere in the record of thirty-four books, one video, and three audiobooks. But who's counting? And yes, I read every one of them. I nearly always have over a dozen books checked out from the library. Many are for leisure, some are for school. I need all of them.

So it was with no little amount of outrage that I read Barry Greenfield's editorial in the Atlantic proposing subscription fees for public libraries. (What is this? Britain?) In Greenfield's model, libraries would charge 50 cents for every item checked out. This means that I would be paying more nine dollars twice a month. I want to make it clear that it isn't that I don't believe that the library is worth that cost. The library is worth all of that and more.

To put it quite simply, I can't afford it.

Paid library subscriptions are only a good idea for people who can afford them and those people are not the majority. Enforcing regular fees will only ensure that information is confined to the faction of society that can afford information. Andrew Carnegie is spinning in his grave.

With the stunning economic aerobatics we've experienced in the past few years, the sector of our society with the disposable income for books has shrunk to the miniscule. I come from an affluent family but as a student, I am far to preoccupied with things like making rent for the month to consider paying for cable or air conditioning. How much more difficult it must be for those not blessed with upper middle class parents?

Moral arguments aside, charging for library services doesn't make financial sense. Sadly, I am not at all numerically minded. For more information on precisely why charging for services isn't a viable option for libraries, head over to the Atlantic again to read Keith Michael Fiels's response to the Greenfield proposal.

But even if libraries managed to make some small amount of money from charging patrons for ideas, this would be an absolutely terrible idea. The Free Public Library was established as a place where all citizens were welcome to welcome to come in search of information. The library acts as an equalizer. Regardless of socio-economic status, race, gender, or creed, we are all welcome to fill our minds to the bursting with trashy romances and archaic poetry and photo-essays on the Appalachian trail. (Currently, all three are resting on my bedside table.)

Given the state of the economy (enter long-suffering sigh here), many of the libraries most dedicated patrons are unemployed or homeless. They come seeking information on how to file for unemployment and find housing, to check job boards and edit resumes. Charging me fifty cents for materials may make library patronship a hardship for me. For many of these people, it would become an impossibility.

But wait, you cry, stop jumping to conclusions. Greenfield is only proposing fees for materials checked out from the library. Computer services would still be free. Well sure, for now. But once we start charging for information, where does it end? Charging for information makes said information unavailable to many people. Sound fair? Now consider the future ramifications. Adults who cannot access the information needed to become successful raise kids who cannot afford the information they need who continue the cycle. Meanwhile, those who are already well off can afford to give their children information so that those children can grow up successful to do the same for their children and perpetuate that cycle. See the problem now? That difference, the growing distance between the affluent, educated population and the population who who struggle to make ends meet is known as the information gap (or the education gap, depending on you profession).

Know what a gap like this led to in the past? The have's and the have not's of the French Revolution. Yes, I'm exaggerating; I'm speaking in hypotheticals and worst-case-scenarios. No, that does not make the possibility of information restricted to the rich any less scary to me.

(But would Sofia Coppola direct a movie about the library revolution? Image courtesy of Columbia Pictures.)

Have we become so mercenary as to care more about our budgets than our patrons? We might as well call ourselves Border's and slapped a closed sign on the door.

The Restricted Section: Teen Edition

In my last post, I mention that the books that got me through adolescence were mostly adult books. I used to steal them from my mother's bookshelf. I strayed into the adult section of the library when I was still in early middle school. Luckily I was tall so none of the shelves were out of reach to me, even as a thirteen-year-old.

Every now and then, I stumbled upon something "forbidden" and the
book was confiscated. My mother was very liberal--she gave me a copy of Go Ask Alice when I was in the sixth grade--so when she told me a book was too mature, you knew the book was definitely too mature. Of course, that just made those "off-limits" tomes all the more intriguing and ensured that I read them under the covers at night with a booklight (flashlights are so old-fashioned).

So as an homage to the time honored tradition of teens reading "adult" titles, I've compiled a list of my ten favorite cross-over books:

1.) Summer Sisters by Judy Blume

This one is a little bit of a cheat since Blume is the queen of the coming-of-age genre. The book follows Vix and Caitlin from pre-adolescence through adulthood. Sounds like a pretty basic "friendship through the years" story and mostly it is. It also included some very naughty bits that my mother most certainly would not have approved of a twelve-year-old reading.

2.) Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice

Most girls remember fondly their first Anne Rice and this was mine. Sensual, dark, and hypnotic. I was soon hooked on all things Anne Rice--and all of this long before the boom of vampire romances that have flooded the market in the past few years, leaving me to sigh nostalgically for the time when vampires were actually scary and not sparkly.

3.) A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
Any book that can make teenage me interested in World War II has my vote.

4.) Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Failed love, selfish girl, pretty clothes--sounds just like my high school. There were even quite a few Confederate flags on the tailgates of the hick-mobiles in my high school parking lot (rural Indiana is a sad, sad place). I've re-read this book at least once a year every year since I was in the seventh grade and I still root for Scarlett in spite of--or perhaps because of--the fact that she's self-centered, annoying, shallow, and manipulative. I think I knew her in high school.

5.) The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

Told from the collective viewpoint of the teenaged boys who watch and love them, this book follows the suicides of the five Lisbon daughters. Sounds dark and it is but it's also a lyrical, gorgeous story with protagonists who are simultaneously tough and tragic. Can any angsty kid ask for more?

6.) The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I blame this novel for my obsession with the 20's. Glitzy parties, flappers, jazz, illegal booze, and--of course--illicit love. Beyond that, it's also a story about the decline of the American dream and the roles we play to hide from society. Sound familiar?

7.) Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton

Okay, technically is a novella instead of a book so it shouldn't count but that's just semantics. Ethan marries Zenobia (yes, that's her real name) but falls in love with her cousin Mattie. Dun-dun-dun. Despite the scandal of the situation, all three are trapped in their situation by societal norms, religious morality, family obligations, and financial restrictions. Ever felt trapped by your own life? Thought so.

8.) Icy Sparks by Gwyn Hyman Rubio
Another book cribbed from my mother, which she bough after it made Oprah's Book Club. Icy is a girl growing up with Tourette's Syndrome in Kentucky circa 1956. Coming-of-age and constantly feeling like an outsider. This one hits the teen double jackpot.

9.) White Oleander by Janet Fitch
Another outsider coming-of-age story, Astrid is the daughter of a convicted murderer and bounces from one foster home to another in California. Though it also looks at Astrid's romantic relationships, it is Astrid's complicated relationship with her flawed but fascinating murderess mother, Ingrid, that kept me reading. Over and over again.

10.) Anything by J. D. Salinger, especially Catcher in the Rye or Franny and Zooey
Salinger is to this day my absolute favorite author. His books have somehow always magically found me at the times I needed them the most--part of the mystical, fantastic power of literature, I suppose.

Honorable Mentions: The Burn Journals, 1984, Atonement, The Red Tent, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Fountainhead, Brave New World, A Separate Peace, there are just too many to get them all!

Do most of these titles seem depressing? I guess that's because they pretty much are. Because adolescence sucks and adolescents like to feel like they know something real and deep. Why? Well, as Carey Mulligan's character, Sally Sparrow, says in one of the best episodes of the best shows on television today, sad is "happy for deep people" (Doctor Who, Ep. 3.10, "Blink"). That's something my fourteen-year-old self definitely could have gotten behind.

Book Review: It's Kind of a Funny Story

I was a miserable little shit when I was seventeen. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was awkward and confused and depressed, uncomfortable in my own ill-fitting skin. Sadly, I don't think my experience was atypical either. The books that helped me through that time in my life were all adult titles--Catcher in the Rye, The Virgin Suicides, Brave New World, and The Fountainhead, to name a few. But on the YA horizon, there was very little. It's Kind of a Funny Story, by Ned Vizzini, is precisely the type of book I needed someone to put in my hands to show me that it's okay to just be broken. I know that it isn't a new title but it's new to me and it's gotten a bit more attention thanks to a big screen adaptation featuring Emma Roberts and Zach Galifianakis. Though it didn't get great reviews as a movie, the book was incredible.

(Even in a semi-serious movie, Galifianakis maintaines the bear beard. Photo courtesy of Focus Features.)

Teen suicide isn’t exactly a humorous topic so it may come as a shock to some readers to find that It's Kind of a Funny Story manages to bring a few smiles even as it deals with such a very un-funny topic. Though it is not autobiographical, Vizzini began work on Story only one week after he himself was released from an adult psychiatric hospital. This experience lends an air of authenticity to the story, which follows Craig Gilner on a roller coaster of depression, anxiety, and recovery.

An over-achieving, neurotic, disconnected teen, Craig is so burned out by the age of fifteen that he comes to a drastic decision. He will bike to the Brooklyn Bridge and throw himself off. Somehow, though, he ends up calling the Suicide Hotline instead and decides to give this life thing one more shot. Instead of throwing himself into the river, Craig throws himself at the mercy of the psychotherapists, doctors, and nurses at the psych ward of the hospital just around the corner from his home. There he meets a cast of characters who are all as damaged as he is--a transvestite sex addict, a couple of self-professed “garbage heads,” a schizophrenic, a paranoid college professor, and a girl so broken that she has scarred her own face.

Though he only stays in the hospital for five days, Craig undergoes a transformation surrounded by his fellow misfits. Slowly he comes to understand just what has caused his anxiety and depression and how to deal with the craziness of his surroundings without losing his mind.

With its frequent references to drugs, drinking, sex, and teen suicide, It’s Kind of a Funny Story is, to say the least, controversial. But it takes a frank and necessary look at the mad dysfunction of adolescence in America. As Randy Pausch once said, “Children are living the stories we wouldn’t let them read.” Vizzini gives voice and face to these “children” with grace and courage. A realistic, heart-breaking, and somehow laugh-out-loud funny rendition of what it means to be young and imperfect in post-modern America.

(Cover image courtesy of nedvizzini.com)

Grade: A+

Romance Saves

I am a romance reader and I'm not ashamed to say it. I'm also an intelligent, educated, affluent (minus the crippling student loans) ambitious young woman who seems to know only adjectives that start with vowels. So why, when I say "romance reader" do most people picture this woman?

(Mavis, the romance reader, featured in Beyond Heaving Bosoms, the delightful book by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan of the blog Smart Bitches, Trashy Books.)

I do not have bunny slippers, I haven't worn a fanny pack since the 90's, and I have never referred to anything I've worn as a frock. I do have a cat but I would never emboss her likeness on a sweatshirt. Too expensive. Neither am I lonely or cynical. I don't read romance because I'm afraid I'll Never Find Me a Man.

In fact, I'm in a romance book club--we call ourselves the Literary Optimists and the other girls in the group are young, attractive, intelligent, and successful. We meet every two weeks to discuss our love of the tawdry and delightful. It's a rollicking good time.

So what is it about romance that makes us resort to these stereotypes? With the definite exception of sci-fi readers, we don't impose stereotypes on any other genre readers--not to historical or mystery or thriller readers. So the perpetual fourteen-year-old girl in me asks, "Why us? Why me?"

I don't honestly know but I know why I read romance:

1.) It's simple. I suffer from constant intellectual burnout from grad school classes so I don't always want to come home to ponder the State of Man in the Postmodern Age at the end of the day. Sometimes I want to sit down and put my mind on autopilot. It's the literary equivalent of turning on Family Guy reruns after a hard day at work.

2.) It's optimistic. There may be mix-ups and kidnappings and sometimes identical twin swicharoos but the hero and heroine always end up together. As well they should. We all know that life doesn't come with guaranteed happy endings and that's fine. It wouldn't be fun to fight for things if you always knew you were going to win. Some ambiguity is good in real life. But when you're just a little tired of the thousands of little disappointments that are commonplace even in happy lives, you can always count on Fabio to bring you out of the doldrums.

3.) It's predictable. Yes, this one overlaps with the last one. Happy endings are just about guaranteed with romance. Even in a "will they or won't they" type of deal, you know eventually they will. They always do.

4.) It's easy to find. There are dozens of dozens of dozens of romances. It may actually be one of the most prolific (no pun intended) genres out there. When you love historical fiction about the Japanese empire, your choices are limited. But when you love contemporary werewolf romances, you have a lot of options. You never have to scour the stacks, they're everywhere. I can ferret those mass market paperbacks out in drugstore aisles, library shelves, and airport bookstores. In fact, romances are the bestselling fiction genre. Of. All. Time. Booyah.

I don't even know how many Viscounts I've read about in the past few years. And yet even I hide the covers of my romance novels when I'm reading them in public. Better yet, if at all possible I purchase them as ebooks so that there is no cover.

(And can you blame me when they look like this? Photo credit: World of Longmire.)

So here's my suggestion: let's stop judging people for what they want to read. Vampire romance? Bring it on. Harry Potter fan fic? You go, you. Pretentious one-word titles? Have at it. Romance isn't just for the lonely and middle-aged and sci-fi isn't just for overweight fanboys. I myself read both.

Any time you want to be set straight about what a romance reader is and is most certainly not, head on over to Smart Bitches, Trashy Books for a quick perusal. Or better yet, check out their book, which asks "Are romances really candy-coated porn or vehicles b which we understand out sexual and gender politics?" Whoa.

The New Ebook

What if Count Dracula had an email address and Jonathan Harker could text? That's exactly the premise behind Bekka Black's new novel, iDrakula. Modern retellings are nothing new but the concept behind iDrakula is. See, the story is told through each character's interactions with technology, including things like browser history, text conversations, and even voice mails and takes the epistolary novel to a whole new level. The novel can be downloaded as an app for the iPhone (take that, Droid) or purchased in print format--which is only slightly ironic. I chose to read it through the iPhone app. Every night at midnight, my phone chimed to tell me that I had new messages from Drakula. Chills.

(A screenshot of text messages between Jonathan Harker and Mina Murray. Photo rights belong to Bekka Black.)

The concept is simply this: the reader is no longer alone in the book. (Initiating rant.) Today's teens are constantly plugged in--heck, I'm guilty, too. During the time it's taken me to write this post, I've checked my email (twice), responded to a text, and received a phone alert that someone responded to one of my Tweets. There is never a time when we aren't connected. But wait, you cry, people are only as connected as they want to be. Okay, sure. On some level we want to be hyper-connected but it's only because it's so easy to be hyper-connected. (Rant over.)

For teens who have actually grown up in the age of connection, traditional reading could be a jarring and lonely activity. But when the reader is experiencing the story with the characters instead of watching the story unfold from the outside, it allows said reader to invest in the story by making them forget that it's fiction at all. It just feels like reading someone else's messages, which is illicit and fascinating--as is the combination of classic stories with new technologies.

There are a few other apps that allow readers to interact with the text. For example, Faber & Faber and Touch Press created an app for the iPad based on T. S. Elliot's poem, "The Wasteland." Users can listen to recordings and watch videos of the poem being performed--including a recording of Elliot himself. Reader's can explore the poem's many references and nuances through a notes section and see the actual manuscript of the poem with its editing notes from Ezra Pound.

(Photo from puremobile.ca)

It's not all retellings, though. Cell phones, which originated in Japan, have gotten big in China, Germany, and South Africa. These novels are sent via text message to readers in short (usually 70 to 100 word) chapters. Their brevity doesn't make the stories less intense, though. There are betrayals, plot twists, and romances to be had all around. Is this the new trend in literature? With smart phones slated to overtake regular phones by 2015 (according to puremobile.ca), it wouldn't surprise me in the least. That would mean giving people access to books everywhere and all the time. What's not to love about that?

Age Limits in YA?

Young adults are constantly told that they aren't old enough to do what they want. Too young to stay out past one, to see R-rated movies, to dress that way act that way talk that way think that way. All of that is old hat. What is slightly less typical is limiting adults from accessing materials for being too old.

And yet that is precisely the trend that is springing up in many public libraries across the country. Adults are being asked to stay out of teen areas in order to give young adult patrons safe places to be themselves without constant adult interference--I mean, supervision.

I've got to be honest now, I'm on the fence about this one. I can honestly see both sides of the debate and I think both have validity. No teen wants their space constantly overrun with fogeys who like the chairs better there and middle-aged moms looking for the latest vampire series. But at the same time, it's it a bit hypocritical to criticize adults who restrict teens for their ages and then turn around and do essentially the same thing?

I am not ashamed to admit that I greatly enjoy reading YA books. I have an excuse since that's the population I'm interested in serving. Not that I need an excuse. But what about the adults who just read YA lit because it's interesting and fun? There are a great many crossover books that have hit it bit with the adult circuit--for example the Hunger Games trilogy, The Book Thief, Ender's Game, Perks of Being a Wallflower, need I go on? Are these books off-limits to the over-eighteen crowd just because they're shelved in a different section of the library?

The real risk lies in ensuring that teen areas feel special and personal so that patrons don't feel like they're being ostracized to the dank, dark attic spaces. Teens already feel separate and strange without being relegated to the margins.

Book Review: The Future of Us

(Cover image courtesy of jayasher.blogspot.com. The Future of Us coming in November, 2011. Being an awesome SuperLibrarian, I get to read exciting new titles before mere mortals--muahaha!)

I am a child of the nineties. I can do the Macarena in my sleep and I can still sing all the words to "If You Want to Be My Lover" by the Spice Girls (heck, I watched Spice World more times than I care to count or confess). I remember what a rock star I felt like jamming to the Back Street Boys (or BSB, as we called them) on my Discman and taking the quizzes in YM magazine. The nineties were an easier time to be a kid.

In 1996, less than half of all American high school students had ever used the Internet. Can you imagine how much easier that would have been? No trolling Facebook or Twitter hoping for comments, no hanging around nonchalantly on gchat for messages to pop up. The only people you had to interact with were people you actually--gasp!--wanted to interact with. Of course, even in the good old days or big hair and grunge skater culture, adolescence wasn't easy. But how different it was! And how strange our current culture of constant connection would seem to someone from that era.

That's exactly the premise behind The Future of Us, the newest title from Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler. Emma Nelson and Josh Templeton are two normal teens growing up in 1996 who, through some mystical technological glitch, get a glimpse at their future lives through a time-traveling Facebook page. The exact mechanics of this glitch are never explained but that hardly detracts from the story. Instead of focusing on Flux Capacitors, Asher and Mackler look at how seemingly insignificant decisions have vast implications. Of course, there are many layers to the story. Despite their extraordinary circumstances, Josh and Emma are just two ordinary teens trying to stay afloat, struggling to maintain their friendship in the face of the awkwardness and hormones that every teen encounters.

What if you knew the implications your decisions were going to have? If you knew your best friend was going to end up pregnant at sixteen, would you do something to change it? What if you had seen that baby at fifteen? Would you be able to keep it from ever existing? If you knew your marriage would end in divorce, you would still have the courage to fall in love? These are the questions that sixteen-year-old Emma and Josh grapple with as they have to decide whether or not change their lives based on the snippets of information gleaned from their future status updates.

My only question is this: Can a book founded on an AOL CD-ROM and peppered with references to Bill Clinton's sex scandal, lyrics from Oasis songs, and quotes from "Wayne's World" relate to teens growing up in the aughts? I will be passing my copy along to one lucky reader for just such an opinion. (Not just any reader, of course, but the daughter of a friend who has been my "guinea pig" for Reader's Advisory in the past. In fact, the copy that I have is signed to Grace, who loved Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why but I just had to read it first.) I believe that good writing and authentic characters, like those in this book, can transcend cultural references. Grace may not know who Tony Hawk is but teen angst is universal.

The message of the story is clear: The future is irrelevant. As Josh observes, "Even the smallest changes to our present will ripple into the future." All we can do is truly and genuinely experience the present. Wherever--whenever--you are, be there.

Grade: A-

Inaugural Blog

I was fortunate enough this year to attend the ALA National Conference in New Orleans. As a first time attendee, it's safe to say I was in full on geek-out mode the entire time. I got to meat Orson Scott Card, for Pete's sake! I took home more free books than I can hope to read in the next six months--and I'm an avid reader. But the best part of the conference was, without a doubt, the speakers.

The inimitable Dan Savage delivered the opening address. Dan, along with his partner Terry, created the It Gets Better Project in 2010 after a rash of suicides as an outreach program for at-risk teens. The Project started as a single video of Dan and Terry talking in a bar about their journeys and how their lives have improved. Less than a year now, their website hosts over 20,000 videos. Celebrities, politicians, and average joe's alike have posted videos to share their stories. So what does an outreach program like this have to do with libraries?

(Dan Savage speaking at ALA. Please excuse image quality--picture taken with my iPhone.)

It's all about the way the information is dispersed. Dan explained this in his speech, and much more gracefully than I will. He said that he knew teens needed to hear the message that life gets easier while they were young, still in middle or high school. But there was no way to speak to those kids without parental permission, which he knew he wasn't going to get. But he realized, he says, that he was waiting for information that he no longer needed. With the internet, there is no one to restrict information from teens. All he had to do was post. Social networking websites like Twitter and Facebook make advertising easy and instant. And so the Project was born.

To demonstrate the power of the website, Dan told the story of a young lesbian. She had come out to her family and received ridicule and disapproval so she did what many LGBT teens do--she said it had been a phase and went back into the metaphorical closet. She couldn't even risk the incriminating browser history a visit to ItGetsBetter.com would leave. So she took her smartphone to bed each night and watched the videos under the covers at night. And for her parents he had this message (paraphrased, of course): You can't stop us anymore. Even if you don't want us talking to your daughter, sharing information with her and giving her hope, we're there. You can't keep us out. We're in bed with her, all 20,000 of us!

This is both the beauty and the danger of the information age. We no longer control what information is available. Teachers, parents, and librarians were once the gatekeepers of information. Now, not only have those gates been unlocked, they've been blown to bits.