Growing up, my brother Adam and I read competitively. A year older than I am, he always won. In junior high, Adam pored over books so challenging, I didn’t catch up until college.
Once, in the fifth-grade, Adam fetched a copy of “Catcher in the Rye” from one of the school library’s shelves, carted it to the checkout and waited for the librarian to scan it. When she refused, he didn’t understand.
“This is beyond your reading level,” the librarian said.
“I want to read it,” Adam said.
“You can’t. You’re not old enough.”
“I can to,” he said. “I want to read it.”
“Well, I can’t let you check this out without calling your mother.”
The librarian slogged to the phone to call my mom.
When she answered, my mom soaked up the librarian’s complaint with an attentive ear before responding.
“Don’t ever tell my son he can’t read a book. Those books are in that library for his use. If he wants to read it, let him try.”
So the librarian grumbled and fussed, but my brother lugged the book home that night. And for the first time, I vicariously tasted the foul flavor of censorship.
Monday marked the launch of Banned Books Week, a celebration put in place 26 years ago by the American Library Association. The holiday runs until Saturday.
Popping up at an appropriate time, Banned Books Week yanks attention toward the existing threat of censorship and its connection to the 2008 presidential campaign. As mayor of Wasilla, Ala., Sarah Palin petitioned the town library about banning books. The town’s librarian, Mary Emmons, resisted. Palin promptly fired her. When citizens disagreed with Palin’s decision, Emmons was reinstated.
The books in question disagreed with Palin’s own ideas. Afraid that the opposing ideas would find life in the minds of others, Palin tried to extinguish them entirely.
The practice is not new, but it remains frightening. Every year, people try to pull hundreds of books from library shelves. Last year, people pelted the ALA Office for Intellectual Freedom with 546 book challenges. A challenge is a formal written complaint asking a book be removed because of offensive or inappropriate content.
“The Catcher in the Rye” is No. 13 on the ALA’s most frequently challenged book list. The Harry Potter series, “Of Mice and Men,” “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” and “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” all made the top 10.
Admittedly, the written word is powerful. Since the invention of the press, authorities have tried to stifle the distribution of disagreeable ideas – just to protect the status quo. The principal problem with this is that the status quo is never good enough to deserve immunity from criticism – because, after all, the status quo is not always the most satisfactory way of life.
In the 19th century, sects of the press pushed for the abolition of slavery – and at a cost to journalists. They were fined, jailed and ostracized. Eventually, the circulation of anti-slavery pamphlets cultivated sympathetic attitudes, expanded tolerance and unified the North against a social injustice.
There are still oppressed groups in America today. Last year’s most challenged book was “And Tango Makes Three.” It’s a true story, directed toward children, about two male penguins from New York’s Central Park Zoo who nurtured and raised a penguin together.
The book teaches children about the existence of homosexuality in nature – a fact of life whether some acknowledge it or not. The book endorses the idea that it’s OK to be a part of a non-traditional family. But some people prefer to pretend that either homosexuals don’t exist or don’t deserve to.
The opposition recognizes the power tucked inside the pages of a book like “Tango.” A book like that could foster acceptance, expand tolerance and once and for all abolish another social injustice.
But that’s only if it reaches readers. And some people fear ideas that could change the social landscape – even if it’s for the better.