Fiction.
The vulgarization of the child is one of the dangers we must avoid. What if the boy's father does read the New York Journal and the girl's mother, when she reads anything, Laura Jean Libbey? It is our business, as librarians for children, to see that by the time the child reaches the same age he shall like something different and better. And how can this be brought about if we let him steep himself in the smart, sensational, vulgar and up-to-date children's books that naturally lead to just such tastes in the adult?
We must also guard against false reasoning. Some authors whom we have probably never questioned will have to go, if thus examined. I am thinking, for instance, of a writer for girls who has been generally accepted. I examined her last book, the story of a little girl and her grandmother, apparently plain people, who moved into a summer village alongside of a family of fashionable city people. The question with the children of the fashionable family and their friends was whether they should or should not make a friend of the new girl—she was nice, but evidently not rich, not fashionable, not one of their kind. The counsel of the minority prevailed, and the children, boys and girls of 15 or 16, kindly admitted her to their circle, though not considering her their equal. How they held their breath at thought of their nearness to a great mistake when they found she belonged to a fine old family of another city, and had great expectations from the quiet grandmother! "See how it paid to be polite!" is the tacit morality of the book, which is full of the spirit of snobbery while professing to teach the opposite. It behooves us, therefore, to dip into books before purchasing or recommending. Nothing will take the place of knowing the books we handle and having our own opinion of them.
A thing we have to look out for is the intentional or unintentional imitation of the names of well-received writers, e.g., the Marie Louise Pool, author of "Chums," to whom Miss Taylor refers, is not the Miss Pool who wrote "Roweny in Boston" and "Mrs. Keats Bradford," that author having died two or three years ago. The person who uses the same name, rightfully or wrongfully, writes very different and very inferior books.
At the information desk we have made lists for various classes and types of person—but very often have had to lay these aside and make a special selection for the individual, after talking with him or her. This is as true for children as for adults—the books that appeal to one person do not appeal to another of seemingly the same type. Until the proper relation be established between the child and the librarian, he cannot be influenced very much in his choice of books. Sometimes this relation may be established in five minutes, sometimes in a week, a month, or a year; sometimes it seems impossible to do it, and some other personal influence must be waited for.
People sometimes say that the children's own tastes in reading should be our guide. This is true thus far: that if a child is reading books that do not seem good for him in our judgment, we should find out what it is in these books that appeals to him; then look for the same thing in books that are better written and lack the objectionable features, and both librarian and child are satisfied. Children learn a great deal by absorption, and if the children's librarian can give them the sort of plot or incident they want and, at the same time, a book from which they may absorb good English instead of bad, high ideals and a high code of behavior instead of low ones, she has accomplished a great part of her task.
Science.
With regard to nature books for children, I am glad that Miss Holmes has spoken frankly and pointed out to us the dangers we incur in rushing into the purchase of a new kind of book without investigation. The taking up of nature study and the study of art in the public schools has meant a great pressure upon libraries for books which teachers and pupils have heard of, but of the merits of which many of them as well as ourselves are unable to judge. In order to have books enough to meet the demand, our temptation is to buy entire series, every book we hear of in these lines, whereas our best plan would be to get them for inspection only, invite the inspection and criticism of some scientific person, or some one conversant with art and its literature, and reject what they condemn, putting in duplicates enough of the approved books to meet the large demand. A thing we need to beware of is the stampede—the wild rush to or away from a thing without reasoning, without stopping to think, just because other libraries we know of are engaging in it. The librarian needs at such times to keep cool, brace himself or herself against the rush, and when the dust of the crowd is over think things out and go ahead. And in these lines where special knowledge is necessary do not let us think ourselves infallible or even altogether competent; let us be humble enough to take advice and information from those who have a real claim to know.
J. C. Dana said:
The papers we have heard read tell us that we can put no dependence on book reviews; that the librarian must depend on herself. How can she do it? There are no laws or rules or principles of book selection. Even if there were, no librarian has time to read even hastily all the books for children.