October
1, 2010
The Attempt to Ban My Books from the Toronto
Public Library System
Written
by Duncan Weller
Awards presented
to artists are intended to introduce good works to the larger
public. Awards declare – Hey! Look at this! – to suggest outstanding
merit for artwork worth checking out. Awards are intended to help
enlarge the artist’s audience. Awards are most often the best
method that an artist’s peers can commend one of their own for
their hard work, talent, and sacrifice. Awards celebrate artists
to help finance, encourage and give them confidence that they
may continue on their path, because it is to everyone’s benefit.
The greatest benefit of awards is that they help to produce a
culture worth celebrating; after all, the culture of a country,
simply put, is what its people celebrate. And it starts with saying,
Hey! Look at this!
At the American
Library Association’s conference in Philadelphia in 2008 I walked
the crowded floors promoting my books, randomly hassling librarians.
One of them turned out to be the Librarian of Congress, Dr. Billington.
He was happy to order my book, The Boy from the Sun. I was elated
by our quick meet. Later that day I watched as various children’s
book awards were announced on big screens to a huge audience eagerly
awaiting the results for the biggest prize of them all.
At the announcement
of the winner of the Caldecot award thousands of librarians who
came from across the United States stood up and cheered. It was
an amazing sight. You couldn’t help but get excited by their enthusiasm.
And Brian Selznick’s book is a great children’s book, well deserving
the accolades and promotion.
Winners of
the Caldecott Award in the United States for picture books receive
national attention with radio, television, and newspaper coverage
– fantastic coverage that sell enough books allowing the author
to live off the proceeds for years. And the recognition allows
them to continue working in their field for the rest of their
lives. This is of great benefit to the public, especially children,
as the books will grow in quality. Awards, with this kind of backing
are key in making children’s book culture viable in the United
States.
The coverage
where I currently reside, Thunder Bay, has been great. Reporters
call to ask what I’m working on. My Alma Mater, Lakehead University
graced me with an alumni award and plugged me as one of three
local talents in a successful campaign to promote itself. I was
awarded grant money from the Ontario Arts Council, which has kept
me working on new books. I’ve sold a few paintings – one that
paid my way through Europe. I’ve done readings, workshops, held
art shows and helped a few local artists with their careers.
Elsewhere
it’s a different story, but before I get to the meat of this story
I need to relate a relatively minor incident that occurred at
the National Library of Ottawa after the 2007 Governor General’s
Award winners gave readings to the public.
The authors
had piles of books on their tables and boxes of books stuffed
beneath, ready to be sold and signed for eager buyers. I had twelve
copies of my book, The Boy from the Sun. I should have given my
twelve copies away for free because the Canada Council purchased
these twelve copies from the local Chapters down the street when
they discovered beforehand that there were none available for
my table. I know this because I happened to be in Chapters before
the readings when a woman from the CC bought the twelve remaining
copies. I spotted the books sitting in a box behind the counter
ready to be picked up.
After the
reading and selling my twelve copies I had to disappoint maybe
thirty eager buyers before Michael Ondaatje came to my table.
Smiling, he asked for a copy of my book.
“I’m sold
out,” I said. “I had only twelve copies.”
Michael, downcast,
stated gruffly, “That’s disgraceful!” I smirked and shrugged.
I made sure to get a copy of his GG award winning novel (his fourth
GG!), Divisidero.
“That’s disgraceful!”
I hear Ondaatje’s voice over and over, every time I think of the
lost opportunities and the failures of others to simply do the
job they were obligated to perform – with contracts – made as
valuable as a piece of paper, by breach, inaction and neglect.
I thought winning two of Canada’s top awards for children’s books
might change things for me. It has, but not as I had hoped.
The Toronto
Public Library has 99 branches in the Toronto district serving
2.7million people. It is the largest library system in North America
with a budget of over $180 million. A committee (I’m told) at
the library decided not to order a single copy of my children’s
picture book after the book had won the Governor General’s Award
in 2007. In 2008 they did not order a single copy of my book when
it won the Ruth and Sylvia Schwartz Children’s Book Award. Regarding
the GG, this is the first time the Toronto Public Library did
not order a single copy since the category (in which I won the
award) was created in 1978. The Schwartz award was selected by
grade 3 and 4 child jurors from Ryerson Community Public School,
founded in 1877 in the heart of Toronto.
The prize
money for both awards had been dramatically increased from the
previous year with the hopes of helping authors and illustrators
in their careers, and to attract more national attention to good
quality books. Some in the children’s book business consider the
Schwartz Award more valuable for a children’s book author because
it is children who choose the winning book from a selection of
books from across the country.
Normally the
Toronto Public Library orders 50 to 70 copies of the book that
wins in the category of children’s book writing and illustration
for the GG.
In Toronto
in the summer of 2008, I discovered that only one copy of The
Boy from the Sun existed somewhere in one of the 99 branches.
I headed downtown to the Toronto Public Library and the first
librarian I spoke with was Brenda Livingston. Casually, I asked
how many copies of my book existed in the system. She happily
turned to her computer, and after a couple clicks she became quickly
embarrassed. She asked me not to get angry as I sat bemused. She
was certain that copies would be ordered.
Months later
when no books showed up in the system I spoke on the phone with
Theo Harris, the children’s service specialist. She informed me
that a committee had decided not to order the book. She refused
to tell me why. She refused to tell me who the head of the committee
was. She refused to say whether or not more copies would be ordered.
Eventually
eight more copies turned up in the system. One that went missing
earlier had returned making the grand total, ten copies.
When I decided
to make a serious query, I checked the library’s database and
discovered that copies of my other two books, Night Wall and Spacesnake
had been removed: 19 copies of Spacesnake and 17 copies of Night
Wall – altogether, 26 copies – leaving 7 and 3 respectively. I
wrote to Brenda Livingston who told me it was likely the books
were removed because they had been damaged, not removed because
of lack of circulation as they were circulating well.
I realized
some time later that if the 26 books removed were damaged it was
within a one-month period, the time within which I had last checked
the library’s database – that’s 26 books damaged in one month
in many different libraries. Damaged books are “weeded,” Brenda
told me, exclusively by librarians in individual branches. “Kids
can be really rough on books,” Brenda wrote.
Brenda had
forwarded my email regarding the removal of the 26 copies to Leslie
Koster, the Senior Collections Specialist, Children’s Materials.
Koster offered no explanation. She informed me that she would
be ordering more copies of The Boy from the Sun, but it was up
to individual librarians of the many libraries to reorder my other
two books.
With yet another
email I enquired how many copies of The Boy from the Sun Koster
planned to order. The reply: 26 copies – the same number of my
other two books that had been removed, supposedly due to damage.
Mystery unsolved
I emailed a list of questions to see if Koster could explain why
The Boy from the Sun wasn’t ordered in the first place, why so
few later, who was the head of the committee, and exactly how
it was that so many of my other books could be removed from the
library system in such a short time period. I am still waiting
for a reply to these questions and a few others.
Margaret Atwood
liked The Boy from the Sun. She was on the jury that chose my
book for the GG Award. So was Michael Martchenko, illustrator
for Robert Munch’s books. I wrote to Margaret and she replied
in a letter, “Canadians are dubious about success, which includes
prizes. They are still not sure that it’s ok to be good at something
(except hockey).”
To help Americans
understand and celebrate awards and artists, The Horn Book recently
printed a special awards issue. Joanna Rudge Long points out that
the Caldecot is judged only by the merits of the book itself,
without external factors of fairness, ethnicity, previous winnings,
history, or audience.
Roger Sutton
adds in the next article; “Children’s book awards are not given
to confirm the public’s taste but to reward those authors who
most richly demonstrate what a book for children can be.”
The Horn Book
also featured articles by the award winners in which they shed
light on their books and careers. I hope one day to have this
opportunity.
Dr. Shiyali
Ramamrita Ranganathan, the luminary and father of library science,
proposed five laws for libraries. The first three relate to my
case: 1. Books are for use. 2. Every reader his (or her) book.
3. Every book its reader.
