on being a Book Expert

Today at work, I helped a dad and his daughter find a book she was looking for. They'd searched the shelf where it was supposed to be but hadn't found it. When I came over, I found it right away. This happens all the time at the library—and it's not even a sixth sense like some people think. It's just that we know the idiosyncrasies of the Dewey Decimal System and where things are likely to be "hiding." Still, it made me smile when, as I walked away, I overheard the dad say "See, that's why she's the Book Expert and we aren't." (I totally heard it capitalized!)

Of course, I'm far from the Book Expert. I still have to fumble a little when patrons ask me for a title suggestion. Sometimes the fumble comes because I'm drawing a blank—I know what book I wantto recommend but the title won't come to my tongue. (Sometimes I can walk to the shelf and find the book faster than I can remember the title or author, as is always the case with, gah, what's his name...Tony Hillerman!, a writer I find readers of all tastes seem to enjoy.) Other times it's because the genre is my weakness. Time traveling romances? Well, there's Diana Gabaldan...and that's as far as my knowledge goes. Luckily we have databases for that sort of thing, but still: I fumble. I'm not yet one of those expert librarians I've seen at work, who can dash off suggestions as fast as you want them for any genre you can name.

And just to keep me from taking that "Book Expert" comment to heart, not a half hour later one of my colleagues was checking out my staff picks shelf (we each have a shelf where we put books we love). "You usually have good stuff on your shelf," he said, "but tonight it's just sort of, ehhhh." (Smilla's Sense of Snow, The Gravedigger's Daughter, and Memoirs of a Geisha were among my offerings.) As "ehhhh" isn't the goal of the staff picks shelf, this response was not my favorite.

You'd think that working in a library would help me feel like the world is made up of readers. Sometimes it does, like on Saturday when I walked up the stairs behind a twelve-ish-year-old girl who was clutching a copy of The Giver and telling her mom how she couldn't wait to read it again. Or tonight, when a different twelve-ish-year-old walked by my desk with a pile of books, telling her mom she'd been simply starving for something good to read. More often than not, though, the library helps to reinforce what the world seems to be telling me: even though they are important to me, books don't matter a whole lot in the world.

I felt this same sort of discouragement when I was teaching. I imagined that if I just pushed the right buttons (shared the best sort of writing), I'd uncover every. single. student's love of reading, even the ones who thought they didn't love reading. Of course, it didn't happen that way—most of them continued on thinking reading is a waste of time just like they did before they started my class, except they'd had more poetry and essays and Ursula Le Guin shoved down their throats.

If I listen hard enough, it feels like the entire universe is, in fact, sending me a message that the things I love most—namely books, and reading them, and the writing of them, and language well-used—are not important. Publishing's budget shrinks and shrinks. As do libraries'. The amount of people reading on a regular basis grows smaller and smaller. The demand for real books declines as that for ebooks rises. Newspapers close up shop, magazines vanish, the demise of the little literary magazine is upon us. Movies and video games and TV and Facebook are where people like to put their energies.

I get discouraged.

Because, honestly. I do check Facebook from time to time, and I watch TV. I've been known to see a movie. But none of those things makes me as happy as I am when I'm curled up somewhere comfy with a book (and perhaps a beverage). It's even better when the house is empty and I've somehow convinced myself to ignore my other responsibilities and simply read without feeling guilty. (That, along with thighs that didn't touch, is one of the things I miss most about childhood, that opportunity to read all day without feeling one titch of guilt.) Reading makes me happier than almost anything else. And I don't understand why other people—seemingly the majority of the human population—don't enjoy it.

But then, sometimes the universe says otherwise. Like the other night, when I watched Rick Harrison—the dude from Pawn Stars—on David Letterman. Letterman asked him how he got so smart and knows so much about history, and his response astounded me. He explained that he'd been sick a lot as a kid, and so he got in the habit of reading. He learned to love to read, and that love helped him learn and led him to his career.

I loved hearing that. Especially since all day my kids and husband had been teasing me with a line from some kids' TV show: "She likes to read. I like to have fun." The world telling you that what you love is pointless and lame is one thing. Your family teasing you with the same idea is something different. I needed that little reminder that it really isn't the entire universe that thinks that.

And, you know? I'm also not the world's best Book Expert. But I do have some skills. On the off chance that you need some recommendations for good poetry to read? I'm totally your librarian. Or dystopian novels. Or even essays. Plus, I did manage to grow up and become something that, when people friend me on Facebook, completely fits their perception of me. I've loved books all my life, and that I found a way to make a career (of sorts) out of that love is a lucky, happy thing. Most of the known universe might think that books are dumb or lame or a waste of time and resources. But there are some of us still out here, reading away, and those are the kindred spirits I'm glad to have around me.

Comments

[Margot/NZ]

Totally identifying with the smiling at being called the "Book Expert" - I had a similiar reaction to being told I was "as good as Google" after I'd reeled off a few authors for a patron to try!
And although they're not the same as the books on shelves, e-books do require reading and can transport the reader to the same places as paper pages, so I don't think all is lost (at least I hope not).

[wendy]

I love you, Amy!

I don't know why I'm in a not-so-much phase with reading right now. In part it's because I stayed up too late too many nights last summer when I couldn't put Roots down, and I've just felt too busy since then. I have had phases of intense reading, and some of none at all. Right now I have a shelf of books I want to get through, but don't seem to make time for them. I always put books on my Christmas list. I love owning books and writing in them, and turning down the corners of my favorite parts for next time. In fact, I pulled a favorite off the shelf yesterday and flipped through the pages to find a note I remembered writing in it back in college. I have countless memories of searching for the perfect book for my mood on my mission and in college.

But why I don't read more often now is something I don't quite understand yet. Your post makes me want to figure it out and fix it, though! Wonderful thoughts, dear friend!

[Jenna]

I like reading but I'm not a consistent reader. When I start a book, everything else in my world disappears & so do I.

I love GoodReads.com for finding new books to read. I check out what my friends are reading & their sometimes hilarious reviews. Inspires me every time.

[Lisa G]

Just raising my hand as a fellow life-long book lover. Growing up, if my parents sent me to my room, they had to forbid any reading or it was all pleasure and no punishment! Now as a mom, one of my greatest pleasures is seeing my boys enjoy a book -- that's when I am most sure I'm doing a good job as a mom. Loved what you wrote. Thank you Amy.