Finding Dorothy - by Elizabeth Letts

When I was very young everyone I knew enthusiastically anticipated the annual airing of The Wizard of Oz on network television. When our family finally got a color television set in the mid '70s I was stunned to discover that the Wizard  was filmed in black and white. My mother assured me that the color scenes were coming. It seems that the tradition of the yearly national viewing ended in 1980, around the time that the VHS tape became popular. Once anyone could record or purchase the movie to watch whenever they wanted the ritual viewing was relegated to nostalgia. As for me, I purchased the 50th anniversary edition of the tape in 1989, after I'd seen the movie perhaps 20 times. It came with some extra footage including deleted scenes, and a Wizard-themed commercial for Downy fabric softener. It also had a little booklet with trivia and other information about the filming of the movie. I still own this tape and a videocassette player on which to view it.

The movie is based on L. Frank Baum's book of the same title, the first of many books in the "Oz" series. Elizabeth Letts' book is a fictionalized account of the life of Maud Baum, widow of the author. The story alternates between 1939 and Maud's involvement in the filming of the movie and her relationship with Judy Garland, and her life in the late 1800s - growing up, meeting and marrying Frank, and raising a family with him. A dreamer with a vivid imagination L. Frank Baum wasn't exactly the person suffragist Matilda Gage had in mind to marry her daughter. Maud was one of the early co-eds accepted to Cornell University and Matilda had great plans for her. But the elder Gage also knew she had raised a daughter who would make up her own mind, and that she wasn't going to be browbeat by her mother into a decision not her own. The Baums moved a number of times as Frank chased jobs and financial opportunities. Maud always made the best of whatever life had in store for them. They never could have imagined the success they found when Frank's first "Oz" book was published.

There are several passages describing Maud's time at Cornell, including some in which she utilized the Sage library, a place she knew she could find quiet and solitude.

I was especially intrigued by the two passages regarding censorship of feminist materials. Matilda Gage was a force to be reckoned with and not one to let censorship prevent her from sharing knowledge and information. On the eve of Maud's marriage she lets her daughter in on the secret to limiting family size - information found in a booklet entitled A Woman's Companion - a book "outlawed" by Anthony Comstock "the United States postal director and...vehement anti-suffragist". The booklet advised soaking a sponge in carbolic acid and "push[ing] it all the way to the mouth of the womb" in order to prevent pregnancy. More about Anthony Comstock and his war on contraception can be found here.

As Matilda Gage nears her death she tells her daughter how she'd like her fortune distributed, a fortune that is not as big as she'd hoped. As her own book Woman, Church and State had been "banned from libraries" she did not "earn as much as [she] should have." I expect she would be happy to know that her book is now freely available online for anyone who wishes to read it.

As is often the case with historical fiction the reader wonders which parts are true and what is imagined. Letts helps with this in the Afterword, explaining how she did her research, and where she took artistic licence. One thing we learn is that women in Hollywood (and elsewhere) have been enduring sexual harassment since long before "me too" was a hashtag.

Carsick - by John Waters

Baltimore, Maryland holds a special place in my heart. It is not only the land of my birth, it is also where I met, fell in love with, and married my husband. If all this weren't enough to make me feel good about the place it also is the home of movie director John Waters. My husband James and I are long-time fans of Waters and enjoyed reading his book about hitchhiking from his home in Baltimore to his home in San Francisco together. The book is divided into three sections. The first is a fantasy  trip called "The Best that Could Happen"; the second a fantasy trip entitled "The Worst the Could Happen"; and the third called "The Real Thing". Fantasy chapters included rides with celebrities, alien abductions, magic farts, and some rather poopy pants. None of this will surprise those who are familiar with Waters' work. The third section was actually the most surprising. It is where Waters cynicism is least evident. He was genuinely grateful for all who picked him up, even if only going a few blocks. He was also touched by the number of straight men he met who spoke lovingly, and affectionately of their wives, and enjoyed the company of all who rode with him.

Of course as much as I enjoy any book, it does not find a place on this blog without at least touching on some aspect of libraries. Waters' book makes the cut for his fantasy chapter "Bernice" in which a renegade librarian who runs her own bookmobile-type service delivers paperback porn (without cover art) to niche collectors. They visit one of her clients, Cash, who lives in a house made entirely out of cover-less paperback smut. (I don't know if such a house actually exists anywhere, but I do know there is a house in Rockport, Massachusetts made entirely out of newspapers).

What I especially liked about this chapter was that Waters says he knows "how wild librarians can be" having been a keynote speaker at "several of their conferences." Since I was a librarian at a conference in which Waters was the keynote speaker (the Association of College and Research Libraries 2007 conference in Baltimore) it was almost like reading about myself - wild librarian that I am.

I marked one other passage in this book for blogging, even though it had nothing to do with libraries. It did, however, have to do with Baltimore nostalgia. Those who have seen John Waters know about his iconic mustache. During his "real" trip, he frets that it is starting to get a little bushy, and compares himself to "Baltimore's longest-running TV weatherman", Bob Turk. It is not just that I remember Bob Turk, in 1975 an eleven-year old me was invited to read a story on-the-air that I wrote for his local Christmas special program. It is one of my best childhood memories.

Bob Turk

John Waters

This was a fun and quick read. Fans of John Waters will not be disappointed.

The Little Free Library Book - by Margret Aldrich

Although the idea of  the "take a book, leave a book" shelf has been around for a while in coffee shops, resorts, and other places (my own library has one for example) the Little Free Library Movement (LFL) is relatively new (2009). This network of boxes with free books set up in front yards, parks, and other public spaces has become a worldwide phenomenon and has helped to bring together neighbors, provided reading materials to impoverished areas, and given countless crafters and woodworkers an outlet for their talents. The Little Free Library Book tells the history of the movement, and includes many stories of individual LFLs with interviews of their stewards. Color photographs of the myriad LFL designs (which includes those designed to look like houses, churches, movie theaters, cars, and even a tardis enhance the enjoyment of reading about how they were built. Each LFL steward has his or her own reasons for starting and/or maintaining the library. All of the stories told in this book were inspiring.

I was especially interested to read the story of Texas' first LFL which was also the first one to be located inside of a school. Bilingual librarian (my favorite kind of librarian) Lisa Lopez started the LFL at the Zavala Elementary School in El Paso ("rated one of the most illiterate cities in the nation"). Lopez was determined to get books into the citizen's hands and to date her efforts have led to the establishment of over fifty LFLs in the city. She has gotten students at her own school excited about reading, and sharing books by decorating and maintaining Zavala Elementary School's own Little Free Library.

Stories about communities coming together to save their LFL were also part of this work. One story that went viral among the library set last year was that of nine-year-old Spencer Collins of Leawood, Kansas whose LFL was ordered taken down when it was determined that the freestanding structure violated the city code. Booing and hissing of the Leawood City Council was fast and furious, and the decision was ultimately overturned.

I was especially interested to read the story of Joceyln and Glenn Hale (Minneapolis, Minnesota) who learned to embrace all types of literature for their LFL. They originally saw their project as a way to share classic literature, but since users are invited to "leave a book" as well as "take a book" and the offerings soon included "bodice-ripping romances, marriage and fad diet advice, and dogmatic religious books". Their first response was to cull the books that did not meet their standards but they soon realized that what they were doing was banning books. Their LFL is now a place where all types of books are shared and enjoyed.

Truly an inspirational read that has me thinking about starting my own Little Free Library. I checked the LFL map and discovered a dearth of LFLs in my neck of the woods.

I did find an LFL in Marion, Massachusetts last fall (which appears to be gone now). Find out which book I selected from it here.

Lagniappe:
Sure to put a smile on my face is reading about another book I've already blogged about. In this case Aldrich refers to Laura Damon-Moore's book The Artist's Library: A Field Guide which I reviewed here earlier this year.

All the Oz books - by L. Frank Baum

It took me a bit over a year to read all fourteen "Oz" books. Each was actually a pretty quick read, but I read other books in between. I immediately began to see certain similarities between this series and the Harry Potter books, beginning with the fact that both Harry and Dorothy live with their aunt and uncle and sometimes travel to a magical place. Both Harry and Dorothy encounter, and overcome, evil. A century after the Oz books were written we can also see a parallel in the anticipation that surrounded the publication of each of the Oz book with excitement that came with the release of each of J.K. Rowling's stories, and both sets of books have the same wide appeal across genders, and ages.  It is especially interesting to note the wide appeal of the Oz books as they were written as fantasy stories in which girls (Dorothy, Ozma, and Glinda) were the protagonists and the leaders, providing cause to question the conventional wisdom that boys won't read stories about girls. Even the wizard learned all his magic from Glinda.

While the only library in the Oz books was Glinda's personal library, it is noteworthy in that she had one especially important work : the Record Book "on the pages of which are constantly being printed a record of every event that happens in any part of the world, at exactly the moment it happens." She uses this for good only, but I really saw her, and her partner Ozma, as benevolent dictators. In conjunction with the Record Book, Ozma owned a "Magic Picture" in which she could see anything happening anywhere whenever she wanted. Only Glinda, the Wizard, and Ozma were legally allowed to make magic in the land of Oz. Others knew how, but were not allowed to use it. Whenever Ozma found out about someone else using magic she immediately went to quash it, with faithful Dorothy along to help explain the laws.

In the 1960s there developed a theory about these books, that they were a populist allegory. Although there does seem to be ample evidence of this, it is probably not the case. It was most likely written simply as a fairy tale, although I must say that Ozma's spying and Glinda's data collection seemed to predict some contemporary news stories as well!

One other similarity between the Oz books and the Harry Potter books is that both series had their censors. (Read my Harry Potter Banned Book post here). In a true twist on book banning, however, it was librarians themselves who often kept the Oz books off library shelves until the 1960s, believing the fantasy aspect of the books was "unhealthy" for children.

Love Overdue - by Pamela Morsi

I don't believe I have ever read a Harlequin Romance before. I rarely read romance novels, and I admit to becoming somewhat jaded about them during my long ago bookstore clerk days. The series romances would come in monthly installments, and then the same women (they were always women) would show up and buy the lot of them. I would hear them chattering while they waited in line about how they needed to get to the store the day they came out, lest they miss one. Occasionally, they would explain that such a calamity had befallen them at some point in the past, and they were not about to let it happen again. Even without reading these novels I sensed that they were all pretty much the same, and couldn't understand why missing one was such a big deal. I once made the mistake of suggesting to one of our customers that perhaps she could go to the library and read the books she was missing. No, this was not good enough because, she explained, she needed to own them.

So anyway, I read a review of Morsi's novel in one on the endless stream of trade magazines that comes across my desk, and just couldn't resist putting in an Interlibrary loan request for it. Just take a look at the cover! Look at those sensible shoes! I must admit that this was a fun mindless read. The story starts with librarian Dorothy Jarrow moving to Kansas with her little dog. The "Oz" allusions continue throughout without any subtlety. In fact, there is nothing subtle about this book. Morsi appears to have had a lot of fun playing with the stereotypes, which again, she didn't even try to pretend were anything else:

"...librarians were expected to be law-abiding, as well as sedate, slightly stuffy and incredibly sexless. D.J. was pretty certain she fit that bill perfectly."

It is suggested that the new librarian must be "a homely old maid, married to her cat." Disbelief is expressed when someone says that she actually "looks kind of pretty."

Despite the fact that she is young and "kind of pretty" she is also described as going for that "old maid look... [with a] stuffy business suit, gray on gray with her hair pulled back into a little bun like somebody's grandmother." Variations on this description pop up several more times throughout.

The book flashes back several times, however, to a Dorothy who is eight years younger, and enjoying spring break at South Padre Island, Texas. And it is here that we find out that the librarian is perhaps not as stuffy as she makes herself out to be. Will she ever remove those "bookworm" glasses and let her hair down again? The answer, of course, was not really a big surprise.

I will also say that despite having a rather stereotypical look about her, D.J. is portrayed as a very competent librarian - recognizing how she can better serve her community; figuring out how to rearrange the library for better light; and she of course believes that everyone, including children, should be able to select their own reading materials. She is anti-book banning, and anti-censorship.

One other thing I should point out is that this work not only has a librarian, but also a busybody Library Trustee whom D.J., for some reason, thinks should call her "Ms. Jarrow". Really? I'm a trustee, and we all use first names.

Although entirely predictable (really, there was not plot turn that I didn't see coming pages out) I have to admit to enjoying this one. This is not to say I'm about to start a romance book subscription, or wait in line at the bookstore once a month.

What's the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America - by Thomas Frank

Those who read my Was post know that this book has been on my "to-read" list. So, writing that post prompted me, finally, to read it. I didn't even have to request an interlibrary loan. It was on the shelf at the good ol' Clement C. Maxwell Library all along. This book about how some rural or working class conservatives vote against their own economic self interests in order to vote for a conservative social agenda (pro-life, anti gay marriage) was a real eye-opener for me. I was interested to learn that many of those who vote that way are quite aware of what they are doing, but are willing to sacrifice themselves to the cause. I expected to see a lot in this work about book banning, but there was only a few places where it was mentioned. The first place I found a reference to censorship was in regard to evolution "which we will strike from the books." (If you haven't seen the movie Kansas vs. Darwin it is definitely worth watching - a documentary about a modern-day "monkey trial"). We also learn about a conservative candidate who loses conservative votes for "supporting the availability of AIDS literature in the public library...ten years previously." It was apparently not always thus. Frank recounts a school board meeting in the early eighties in which "an angry parent...wished to remove a number of books from [the] high school library." In those pre-Contract with America days "the presiding administrators had trouble restraining their laughter" as the woman "ran through her list of accusations-prefab stuff that she had probably heard from the John Birch Society."

I laughed reading about Pope Michael I, the sedevacantist, who through reading material in his "personal library of religious books" determined that Pope John Paul II was, in fact, not the pope due to "manifold heresies of the church since the sixties" and through a vote of 5 people, including himself and his parents, was appointed the new pope. I think that the good thing about public libraries is that they really do try to collect a vast array of materials, with differing points of view.

The final word in libraries comes on the second to last page of the book when Frank tells us that the public library of Kansas City, Kansas, described in the 1939 WPA guide, with its "elaborate Italian Renaissance architecture" is gone. Leveled by "progress" along with some other historic features. It is disappointing to lose some of this history, but I guess I don't expect to see many of the things described in depression-era guides. I am also sure that the library that was razed would probably be too small for Kansas City now.

Was - by Geoff Ryman

My friend Brendan is very good at picking out books that he thinks I will like. When he recommended this one I asked if there were any librarians in it, and he said he thought maybe there were because one of the characters was doing a bit of research. As it turned out, this one has quite a few different references to libraries and librarians, but, unlike me, Brendan wasn't on the lookout for them when he read it.

This novel tells the "back story" of Dorothy Gael (yes, the one from the Wizard of Oz), who according to Ryman, bullied her classmates, and was sexually abused by Uncle Henry. It is also the story of Jonathan, who goes on a quest to find the "real Dorothy" in his last days on Earth, and Jonathan's therapist Bob, who actually knew "Dotty" before she died. There is also some of the story of Judy Garland's family, and the making  of The Wizard of Oz movie. It was very hard to tell how much was true and what wasn't. Fortunately the last pages of the book are a "Reality Check" in which Ryman sheds some light on some of the questions I had, as well as acknowledging the librarians who assisted with his own reearch.

There are about a dozen references to libraries or librarians in the book, and as Brendan recalled, some of them had to do with Jonathan's research, in which he visited libraries and public archives in California, and Kansas. We also learn that as a child Jonathan hated most books, and even "tore up a library book called Anatole." One of the few books he loved, of course, was The Wizard of Oz. I was disturbed to find out that up until about the 1960s Frank Baum's books were generally kept off of library shelves, mostly due to librarians' beliefs that the the fantasy aspect was unhealthy for children. The Oz books were not listed on recommended reading lists, nor were they mentioned in critcal works of children's literature. This article from the Chicago Tribune tells more.

I am always interested when I see references to the librarian stereotype. In describing Jonathan's ex-girlfriend Ryman simply says "She looked like a librarian....She was serious." There is no expansion in the description, Ryman is clearly sure, in the use of this simile, that readers will picture the same archetypical, bookish person. I wish I could become indignant about this, but sadly, I must admit that whenever I attend I librarian conference I am reminded that the stereotype is, all too often, deserved.

One of the books on my to-read list in What's the Matter with Kansas? by Thomas Frank, I learned from Was that an editorial of the same name was published in the late 1800s by William Allen White. Reading the description of "the bookroom" at Dorothy's school gave me cause to consider the question myself.

"There was one table and shelves of spare textbooks. Proud as they were of their schools, even the people of Kansas could not call this a library."

Brendan was right on recommending this one for me. I like a surreal novel, especially one with libraries.