Banned Books Week: Tintin in the Congo

Not only do I read banned books, but I buy them as well. Let me start with a story.

At the end of August, on my final evening of a lovely trip to Cape Cod, I was checking out Herridge Books in Wellfleet. Herridge Books is a used book store tucked in a corner not far from Mayo Beach and Wellfleet Center. I was looking for Church Mice books, while my daughter wanted ghost stories. You could have knocked me over with a clam roll when I found this:

As Captain Haddock would say--blistering barnacles!

A brief history of Tintin in the Congo: it is unavailable to purchase new in the United States. Period. Despite Tintin's decades of cult status in this country, and a highly successful animated film helped raise the franchise's profile, no one can walk into their local Barnes and Noble, or log on to Amazon.com to purchase a newly minted, 2005 (which is when it was last reprinted) edition of this book. Why not? Because the American publishers of the Tintin books, Little, Brown and Company, have deemed it too offensive for this country. Or, to quote the Forward at the start of the UK edition, (which indeed the copy I bought was) Tintin in the Congo contains "bourgeois, paternalistic stereotypes of the period." And Heaven knows we can't have any of that. Particularly in a children's book. And let's not even get started on Herge's attitude to big-game hunting.

I don't mean to sound glib. The controversy surrounding Tintin in the Congo is actually quite complex, based on the book's publishing history, Belgian colonial history, and Herge's own growth as a writer and the creator of Tintin the character. (The Guardian summarizes the issues nicely in this article about a recent attempt to ban the book in Belgium.) And, truthfully, the book is bourgeois and paternalistic. Embarrassingly so. I doubt that Herge meant to offend readers of the day, or even future readers of a more enlightened period, which I'm sure we all like to think the 21st Century is. But there are readers who will take offense to this book.

Now that I have finally read it, I can see that there's not much to recommend Tintin in the Congo other than Herge's name on the front cover. But as a fan of Tintin, I wanted to read it. As a librarian interested in issues of censorship and free speech, I wanted to read it. As a mother who discusses race relations with a daughter curious about the unequal world around her, I wanted to read it. There are many reasons why I wanted to read this book, and not a single one of them had to do with actually agreeing with its content. Yet look at the extent I had to go to find it--dumb luck at a used book store.

It's very easy to stand up and support books like To Kill a Mockingbird or The Color Purple, challenged and banned books whose literary merit and social importance is inherent. But there are ugly books which need protection, too. I recently read Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 (yet another frequently challenged book,) and I came across this exchange between Guy Montag and Faber:

"My wife says books aren't 'real'"
"Thank God for that. You can shut them, say 'Hold on a moment.' You play God to it." (p. 80)

The Reader plays God to the book. Not the publisher. Not the neighbors. The Reader. Maybe it's because I believe in a God who supports free will as opposed to the manipulation of life to ensure harmony, that I found this quote so appropriate to the issue of intellectual freedom. There is a market in this country for Tintin in the Congo, and Little, Brown and Company should feel free to meet the demand of that market. They should not play God to readers by refusing to publish it. Publish the book, and let the readers play God.

For more information about Banned Books Week--it's the 30th anniversary by the way!--you can visit a couple of sites:
http://bannedbooksweek.org/
http://www.ala.org/advocacy/banned/bannedbooksweek

And if you completely disagree with everything I say, feel free not to read Tintin in the Congo (assuming you can find a copy.)

Think for Yourself--Banned Books Week

I love the catchphrase for this years' Banned Books Week (25 September - 2 October, 2010.) Think for yourself. Because that's really what book banning is all about, isn't it--the desire to influence how people think. Advocates of removing books from libraries have convinced themselves, and then try to convince everyone else, that they are somehow serving the common good by recognizing a threat and removing it before it falls into the wrong hands. Wow. Thanks. But you know what? I'll figure it out on my own, ta. There's only one way to decide what you agree with, which values you value, and that's by coming face-to-face with those you don't. If someone else has already made that determination, then what has really been learned? That they know best. For you, for your children, for the whole wide world.

My one experience with a book challenge was pretty benign compared to irate parents, brimstone fueled editorials, or waffling school boards. But it was indicative of the cowardice which I think is at the heart of  book challenges. Yes, I said 'cowardice'. If a person is so afraid of the written word that they would rather eliminate it than think about it--that is cowardly.

One day a book was returned with a sticky note attached to the front cover which said: "Bad word in this book." That sticky note was damning. To me, sensitive professional that I am, it implied that I had erred in my duties, and the patron was taking it upon themselves to gently point that out before calamity crashed down upon me. It also implied an expectation that I would efficiently yet quietly take care of the problem, just as I had been efficiently yet quietly made aware of its existence.

The book in question was Piggy by Mireille Geus, a 2008 import from the Netherlands about an autistic girl who is bullied and manipulated by a new girl at school. Since a gauntlet disguised as a sticky-note was flung at me, what else could I do but take a closer look at the book? The first thing I did was to check if I had ordered the book for the Young Adult collection and it had inadvertently been cataloged in Children's. Nope. Target audience is grades 5-8. Next, I checked the professional reviews, on the basis of which I had purchased the book. No mention of offending language in any of them, which made me think that it was not gratuitous and probably not worth mentioning. There was nothing really left to do but sit down and read it.

Indeed, right around page five, there is a very bad word. It is uttered by the bully Piggy herself, who is so transparent in her usage of the word. She wants to shock. And she does. The protagonist doesn't know what to make of her. But the reader does, by the efficient use of one, well-placed curse. A point which was clearly missed by the writer of the sticky note, as was the book's redeeming, timely message about bullies and the children who learn to stand up to them. I don't like swearing, but I do like the efficient use of language. The book went back on the shelf.

I'd be lying if I said I'm sorry that was the end of the matter. I don't look for fights. I alerted my director to the situation, in case a more formal protest followed. But nothing did. To be honest, a challenge might have done Piggy some good. Circulation records indicate that the book last went out over a year ago. It has only circulated 6 times in two years. Only three other libraries in our network own the book: two put it in YA, one other in Juvenile, like I did. It hasn't circulated much anywhere. But it's on the shelf waiting, and when it next ends up in the hands of a reader, I hope it leaves an impression beyond a single four letter word. It should, in the hands of a perceptive reader, who has been allowed to think for his or herself.

So, in honor of Banned Books Week, I would like to remind everyone that we are free to read whatever we want in this country. And if you take a look at some of the most frequently challenged and banned books in recent years, you might be surprised to see what made the list and why. If any of those books mean anything to you, think what you would have missed if some know-it-all censor got to it before you did. What if you never got to read To Kill a Mockingbird because someone objected to racist language? Or Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl because she writes about puberty? Talk about missing the point!

I, for one, like to think for myself. This week, and every week.

Raising my Librarian Hackles

Just in time for Banned Book Week--this story has hit the airwaves. A woman in Maine has borrowed two copies of the sex education book, It's Perfectly Normal (Harris, Robbie) from two separate libraries, and she has refused to return them. The general stereotype of the spinster librarian with a bun, or at the very least, a well-placed finger in shushing position, gives absolutely no credit to the role of the librarian as the defender of intellectual freedom. Librarians are taught that every person has a right to read whatever they want. It's not our business to ask what they are reading or why. It's even considered bad form to comment on materials at checkout--"Do you like John Grisham? Me too!" So when I read stories like this one, about an individual who takes it upon herself to determine what is and isn't suitable for patron consumption.....well! I get my bun in a twist! Seriously, though, who does she think she is?

I am familiar with the book in question, although I have not read it myself (I guess she has one up on me there.) By now it is an old book, but I remember when it came out, and it caused controversy then, too. Sex ed books are easy targets for censors, and my guess is that the use of the word "normal" in the title upsets some readers because, hey, what's normal? My definition may not jibe with my neighbor's. Be that as it may, nobody has a right to tell me or anyone else what books I can or cannot read, and by removing a book my ability to choose is effectively removed, too.

Here's a story from my own experience. One day, a patron handed me a book and said, "I think you should see this." The book in her hand was The Biggest Bear, a picture book by Lynn Ward. A Caldecott winning picture book, written a long, long time ago (read "in the unenlightened past".) Someone, who clearly did not like or approve of the book, had written all over it, claiming that it glorified hunting, was violent, cruel to animals, and single-handedly responsible for the downfall of society. The book was removed--no doubt the scribbler's intent--but reordered (as a Caldecott winner, we're practically required to own it.) The thing is, the scribbler had every right to dislike that book. They even had the right to come up to me and voice that dislike. They even had the right to lodge a formal complaint (we have paperwork for that.) But there is an even simpler solution to that problem--if you don't like the book, DON'T READ THE BOOK! This is a large and vast world. And even in a place as bleeding-heart as the Boston area, there are people who probably like hunting. Or maybe they just like books about bears. Or maybe they just want to see what passed for award winning Children's literature nearly 70 years ago. All those different types of readers have the right to go into their library and look for The Biggest Bear if they want it. And pre-pubescent children who want to know about their changing bodies have a right to read It's Perfectly Normal. Heck, kids who just want to know what the other sex looks like with no clothes on has a right to look at the book. Grown-ups who want to know what's considered "normal" sex ed have the right to look at that book. Maybe they don't like what they see. Then they talk to their kids themselves, instead of leaving it up to a book. Or they say, "That book is from the hands of Satan himself! Don't read it!" At which point the child has the right to decide for him or herself if they want to take their parent's advice.

My daughter is only six, so she still pretty much does what I tell her to. If I tell her to put a book down, she generally does. That will change, and there will be things that she will want to keep secret from me. If she seeks out information from a source other than me, I would much prefer that she wanders the stacks of a library, perhaps soliciting some guidance from a non-judgemental librarian, rather than trawling the internet, with its abundant lack of organization, accountability, or expertise. However, if there are would-be do-gooders, weeding collections based on their own one-sided value system, with no regard for differing taste, opinion, or perspective, then she is robbed of the opportunity to make her own choices. And as a parent, I don't like to think that anyone is disadvantaging my daughter in anyway. So self-appointed censors--HANDS OFF! If you want to save the world, become a librarian and protect books, not destroy them.