It seems to me that the best way of dealing with a book one finds offensive is not to read it. Making that decision for others by keeping the book from them is tyrannous.
Frank, we are in agreement over those who make such decisions for us. This post recalls for me the time I was manging editor of a weekly newspaper in a small West Texas town, and the fight over the availability of Rudolfo Anaya's "Bless Me, Ultima" on high school library shelves. A wild time, and a happy ending ... the book remained on the shelf, available to those who chose to read it.
Here is what I said about this issue in response to an article at The Christian Science Monitor:
Let us set aside for a moment the quibbling about the legalities and constitutionality of the library’s tactics, and let us set aside the peculiar notion of segregating certain books (which, by definition, makes those books less accessible to the public), and let us focus on a more interesting question: Whose voices determine which books must be sequestered in order to protect everyone else from so-called offensive books? I am most concerned about who will become the arbiters of literary merit in this brave new world of special collections rooms that are so carefully partitioned by lock-and-key. Let the record show that I would not presume to judge a book on behalf of someone else. Moreover, I would rather resent someone else making that judgment on my behalf. This, my friends, is a slippery slope that is an innocuous form of “book burning.” I wonder if the special locked room will be climate controlled? Perhaps 451 degrees Fahrenheit will be the temperature.
They're not making a judgment on your behalf, they're making one on behalf of the library. If they locked up the books in your home, then they would be making a judgment on your behalf.
What about all the libraries that make silent judgments simply not ordering or shelving a book to begin with? They're more subtle, but are they making less of a judgment?
The materials in libraries that are most frequently objected to are works of fiction. Does a public library have a responsibility to provide any of it? Could all fiction be removed from the shelves without it being considered censorship, or of questionable legality?
In any case, if the management staff of a library is not fit to make judgments without consulting the general public, how will they make decisions on holdings?
Yes, you make some good points about judgments with respect to acquisitions and shelving. Perhaps librarians could weigh in on the criteria for those decisions. Nevertheless, as the scenario now stands, isn't there something troubling about a library's decisions made in reaction to someone's objections to certain books? Whose objections are meritorious, and whose objections are only objectionable? Are an individual's objections worthy of being honored? Are a government's objections equally worthy? Are certain classes of people better positioned to make objections and judgments? These are not comfortable questions.
Frank, we are in agreement over those who make such decisions for us. This post recalls for me the time I was manging editor of a weekly newspaper in a small West Texas town, and the fight over the availability of Rudolfo Anaya's "Bless Me, Ultima" on high school library shelves. A wild time, and a happy ending ... the book remained on the shelf, available to those who chose to read it.
ReplyDeleteHere is what I said about this issue in response to an article at The Christian Science Monitor:
ReplyDeleteLet us set aside for a moment the quibbling about the legalities and constitutionality of the library’s tactics, and let us set aside the peculiar notion of segregating certain books (which, by definition, makes those books less accessible to the public), and let us focus on a more interesting question: Whose voices determine which books must be sequestered in order to protect everyone else from so-called offensive books? I am most concerned about who will become the arbiters of literary merit in this brave new world of special collections rooms that are so carefully partitioned by lock-and-key. Let the record show that I would not presume to judge a book on behalf of someone else. Moreover, I would rather resent someone else making that judgment on my behalf. This, my friends, is a slippery slope that is an innocuous form of “book burning.” I wonder if the special locked room will be climate controlled? Perhaps 451 degrees Fahrenheit will be the temperature.
They're not making a judgment on your behalf, they're making one on behalf of the library. If they locked up the books in your home, then they would be making a judgment on your behalf.
ReplyDeleteWhat about all the libraries that make silent judgments simply not ordering or shelving a book to begin with? They're more subtle, but are they making less of a judgment?
The materials in libraries that are most frequently objected to are works of fiction. Does a public library have a responsibility to provide any of it? Could all fiction be removed from the shelves without it being considered censorship, or of questionable legality?
In any case, if the management staff of a library is not fit to make judgments without consulting the general public, how will they make decisions on holdings?
Yes, you make some good points about judgments with respect to acquisitions and shelving. Perhaps librarians could weigh in on the criteria for those decisions. Nevertheless, as the scenario now stands, isn't there something troubling about a library's decisions made in reaction to someone's objections to certain books? Whose objections are meritorious, and whose objections are only objectionable? Are an individual's objections worthy of being honored? Are a government's objections equally worthy? Are certain classes of people better positioned to make objections and judgments? These are not comfortable questions.
ReplyDelete