Celebrating Newbery’s 100 Years!

By Suzanne Hawley, MLS

Did you realize that there have been over 400 titles selected as Newbery honors and winners since the medal was established in 1922? Remarkable, isn’t it? According to information from the Association for Library Services to Children (ALSC), the award’s “terms, as well as its long history, continue to make it the best known and most discussed children’s book award in this country.”

Newbery medal winners and honors are chosen annually. Frederic Melcher, the founder of the Newbery, had one request for the decision-makers: the process of selecting the books must remain top secret. Every year, a Newbery Committee is established, consisting of 15 members: Eight are elected by members of ALSC, and a chairperson and six members are appointed by the ALSC President. Members can only serve on the committee every four years.

The award is based on the text of each book. Other components, such as illustrations and overall design, may be considered when they make the book less effective. The books must be original works, first published in the United States, and written in English by an author who is a U.S. resident. Also, they must have been published during the previous year. Only the books “eligible for the award” are to be considered. The entire body of work by an author or the fact that the author may have previously won the award should have no bearing on the discussion. The John Newbery Award Committee Manual – Formatted August 2015 is available online if you are interested in more detail.

Who is on this committee? Back in the dark ages, I was! In 1992, I was selected to be on the 1993 Newbery Committee. It was the experience of a lifetime. My appointment came as a jaw-dropping, gob-smacking surprise! One day as my son retrieved the mail from the mailbox, he said, “Mom, here’s something for you from ALA.” I assumed it was a notice to pay dues and asked him to open it because I was busy eating an apple. Excitedly, he said, “Mom, you’ve been appointed to the Newbery Committee!” Astonished, I immediately spit the apple onto the back of his neck. Something soon to be forgiven, but never forgotten!

I called ALA to make sure there was no mistake and that I was on the committee. Once we got that straight, the fun—and I do mean fun—(but also lots of work) began.

I was impressed but worried when I saw who else was on the committee: all well-known figures in the children’s library field. And then there was me, a school librarian with little ALA committee experience. Our first meeting in January 1992 was a “getting-to-know-you” event. The Chair asked us to introduce ourselves, and I was grateful that I was last so I could listen to everyone else first while thinking of something brilliant to say. Instead of something brilliant, I blurted out that I was completely awestruck by the committee members and totally intimidated. At least that elicited a laugh, and then others admitted that they felt the same way. Already, a bond was formed—one that grew stronger as the year went by.

At first, books from publishers trickled in, and I thought, “Oh, this is manageable. I can read a couple of books a week.” By May, I was reconsidering that thought because I had books stacked everywhere, and I was reading as fast as I could. We each read hundreds of books that year.

The Internet was still in its infancy in those days, and all of the communication among members was done by mail. The Chair received our nominations, compiled them, and sent copies to all members. Each committee member was responsible for nominating seven books: three in October, two in November, and two in December. In January, we were allowed to nominate late suggestions that had been published after we submitted our previous nominees. That was a good thing because an excellent title arrived at my front door as I was leaving for the airport to go to ALA Midwinter in January, and we were able to discuss it.

Adhering to the “top secret” rule, the Annual Conference and Midwinter meetings were held behind closed doors with security in place. We were not permitted to mention “eligible titles” outside of the meetings. The group was comprised of 14 individuals, each of whom held strong opinions and were articulate and robust in their advocacy of titles. The Chair proved to be an excellent leader and insisted that our nominations be concise and specific, asking that we cite excepts from the books we talked about to aid in decision-making. More importantly, she expected us to be open to new ideas about titles that we hadn’t paid much attention to. Much to my delight, members became friends and even when tempers ran high, everyone remained respectful.

In January 1993, we met at ALA Midwinter to make our selections. We spent many hours behind those locked doors because so many excellent books were published in 1992, and there was lots of debate. ALSC sent a locked trunk full of the 75 books we had determined were “eligible” before Midwinter. By the final meeting day, we had narrowed that number to about 15. The meeting was a passionate one, and we didn’t start balloting until after midnight.

Each committee member is asked to select (by a secret ballot), a first, second, and third choice for the award. When the ballots are tabulated, four points are assigned to each first choice, three points to each second choice, and two points to each third choice. To win the Newbery, a book must receive eight first place votes and must have an eight-point lead over the book receiving the next highest point total.

Within a short period, we had selected our winner. But there were so many other books deserving of Newbery Honor distinction that we all began lobbying in earnest for our respective picks. Around midnight, our Chair forced a final discussion. It worked; we decided by votes for three Honors. At the end of the entire process, we felt confident that we had met Frederick Melcher’s challenge to select the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.

Around 3 a.m., exhausted but happy, we went back to our hotel rooms to catch a few hours of sleep before we convened in the ALA office to call our Newbery Winner, Cynthia Rylant, for “Missing May.” She was jubilant as were we. Then, we called our Newbery Honor authors: Bruce Brooks for “What Hearts,” Patricia McKissack for “The Dark-thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural” and “Somewhere in the Darkness” by Walter Dean Myers. After that we retired to the auditorium where the announcement was made to the world.

Since my time on the Newbery Committee was almost 30 years ago, I was interested in discovering what has changed since then. After speaking with Dr. Jonda McNair, chair of the 2021 committee, I learned that while the process of choosing winners is similar, the main difference is that communication is now done by email instead of mail. Secrecy is still of paramount importance. In January, they met virtually on Zoom to discuss the nominees and determine the winners and honors. How fortunate we are to have that technology today!

There are big differences in the numbers and kinds of books available. In 1992, around 5,000 children’s titles were published; in 2020, the number was closer to 15,000. Today, diversity and inclusion are uppermost in everyone’s minds, and recent youth media awards reflect this trend. In fact, the 2021 Newbery winner and two honor books take place in Southeast Asia: “When You Trap a Tiger,” “All Thirteen,” and “A Wish in the Dark.” The 2020 committee chose an honor, “The Undefeated,” which celebrates contributions of African Americans, and “Other Words for Home,” the story of a Muslim family who fled Syria for America.

Graphic novels have also increased in popularity in the children’s and teen world since the early 2000s. A generational shift fueled this acceptance, as librarians who came of age reading graphic novels became the builders of library collections. Jerry Craft’s remarkable graphic novel, “New Kid,”won the prestigious Newbery medal in 2020, adding a new format to the body of “the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.” In spite of the changes over the years, the spirit of the Newbery Medal remains the same.

“Water and sun … but no hurricane” is Suzy Hawley’s mantra. She loves selecting children’s and young adult materials for library collections. Other than that, she spends her days interfering in her children’s lives, helping seniors, and spoiling her Olde English Bull Dogs. Click here for more. Click here for more.

Reader’s Question Answered

Recently, Vishma Bhattarai submitted the following question to Librarian to Librarian:

“How do you think about the significance/value/importance or anything else of SR Ranganathan’s five laws of library science during these days?”

Source: Pinterest.com

Brodart’s Scott Piepenburg, who wrote an article about the five laws, responded: “As a cataloger, I still use these principles when I teach. As of late, there have been many efforts to ‘update’ the five laws to say ‘resource’ rather than ‘book’ and reflect other more modern trends, but when it comes to access and the philosophy of collection development, they are still good, solid, valid, relevant rules. They speak to the very basic, important things that we do as librarians; the technology and resources may have changed, but the goals are the same.”

As for whether the pandemic and extended library closures have impacted his view of Ranganathan’s laws, Scott said, “In my opinion, no. In fact, I think the laws have become more relevant and even more notable in the light of the pandemic. The library still strives to get every reader their book and every book their reader, but more important, libraries have had to change their delivery and resource model, highlighting the fact that ‘the library is a growing organism’ so it can adapt and change with the needs of its users.”

Brodart Selector Suzanne Hawley added, “Isn’t it fascinating and remarkable that the five laws were formulated in 1924 — almost 100 years ago — and they are still invaluable for the library of today? I think the creative ways librarians have been able to serve their patrons and care for their resources during the pandemic shows that, indeed, the library has proven to be a growing organism.”

Brodart Selector Stephanie Campbell concurs that while the laws are still valid, changing circumstances, such as demographics and the rise of social media, are forcing libraries to adapt and develop creative strategies to serve patrons. She says:

“Top of mind thoughts for me regarding the first three laws (Books are for use; Every reader his or her book; Every book its reader) revolve around diversity in collections. Yes, books are for use and we hope that people will read them, but materials are often acquired simply because of their value as works of literature or their importance to society. Now more than ever, you can’t let demographics dictate what you select and you can’t take circulation figures at face value. Marginalized populations NEED to be represented. In a more frivolous example, I’ve often heard, ‘nobody here reads science fiction.’ OK, is that because there aren’t any people here who like that genre or because our collection is awful? Sometimes it’s not obvious who the audience will be or if there will be an audience at all, but you need those materials, anyway.

Laws four and five (Save the time of the reader; A library is a growing organism) make me think about how crucial convenience services are now, how much more our mission has transcended physical walls. This is all wonderful, but will create even more marketing challenges as people have gotten out of the habit of spending time in our buildings. We often relied on ‘preaching to the choir,’ with flyers and posters that catered to in-house customers, or we hoped that regular DVD borrowers might someday venture into the book section. Websites and social media presence are going to be more important than ever to maintain existing users and attract new ones.”

Thank you, Vishma, for submitting your question! We’d love to hear from other readers who have additional questions or comments related to libraries or librarianship.

Resiliency in Graphic Novels

By Kat Kan, MLS

The word “resiliency” can refer to emotional resilience, mental resilience, or physical resilience. A school counselor at my local school district said that students who have good resilience are better able to handle emotional stresses, environmental stresses (in our area, we suffered from a Category 5 hurricane in October 2018), and all the problems so many have faced with COVID-19—not to mention poverty, food insecurity, racism, and many other problems.

When I was young, I dealt a lot with feelings of being an outsider. I’m mixed Japanese/White, and I didn’t feel that I belonged anywhere, even though my parents loved my siblings and me. When we lived in Japan, my Japanese grandparents’ neighbors would stare at me, because I didn’t look very much like them. Back in the United States, in the town where we lived, we kids were double outsiders: mixed race and not locals. My classmates didn’t like the fact that I “passed” as White, and at least one older student in our small school called my mother horrible names.

To cope, I basically escaped into books, mostly adventures, mysteries, and science fiction. A lot of the books I enjoyed featured outsider characters who overcame their circumstances and saved themselves, their friends, their town—sometimes even a whole world. Andre Norton, in particular, created fascinating worlds and portrayed strong female characters who took action and did cool things. I know that these books, and certain television series, especially “Star Trek” (the original 1960s series), helped me see more of myself in the characters and recognize that I wasn’t just some weirdo kid.

A colleague and I, both librarians at Bay County Public Library in Panama City, Florida, were guests on a podcast done by Alignment Bay County, a nonprofit agency focusing on helping youth with stress and mental health issues. For our podcast recorded on May 4, 2021, we chose a number of books, both fiction and nonfiction. I, of course, selected graphic novels and graphic memoirs. We provided our lists to the podcast host and her co-host for this particular episode, a school counselor. They researched the books so they could discuss how the books demonstrated certain types of resilient behavior.

I brought Jarrett Krosoczka’s “Hey, Kiddo”—his memoir of growing up raised mostly by his grandparents because his drug-abusing mother couldn’t take care of him. Teens who read his book know that Krosoczka managed to grow up and enjoy a happy life, simply by virtue of the fact that he created it. His graphic memoir takes readers through his youth to witness how his imperfect but loving grandparents gave him some stability.

Jerry Craft’s “New Kid” tells the story of Jordan Banks, a Black 12-year-old whose parents send him to a private school where he’s one of the few non-White kids; he also doesn’t fit most people’s idea of a Black boy, because he’d much prefer to draw comics. Anyone who feels alone and out of place can relate to Jordan. If this book had been published when I was that age, I would have loved it at least as much I love it now.

Raina Telgemeier, in my opinion, started something special with her book, “Smile.” When this book first came out in 2010, it grabbed the attention of many kids. I was working in a school library at the time. Scholastic sent me a review copy of the book, and I shared it with my lunch time book club students. That copy made the rounds at the school, and some of the students even wrote fan letters to Raina, which I sent to her via Scholastic. Her account of the dental trauma she suffered in sixth grade, plus dealing with friends who weren’t really great friends, and a massive earthquake, grabbed the kids’ attention. They’d never seen anything like this in comic book format before, and they loved it. When they saw that our Spring Scholastic Book Fair included “Smile,” lots of them bought it. This book sold out THREE times, something that had never happened before. Each student who talked to me about the book said they felt a deep connection to Raina, that they loved how she portrayed her feelings.

Each of Raina’s original books, including “Drama,” “Sisters,” “Ghosts,” and “Guts,” depict characters (sometimes Raina and her family, sometimes fictional characters) experiencing all kinds of challenging situations. These include family relationship troubles, dealing with school, and trying to find one’s place in the social order, while dealing with long-term health issues. Raina’s art makes the stories approachable, understandable, and young readers love them. I think it’s fantastic that so many other creators have published their own comics over the past 11 years, comics that also help young readers see how kids like them are learning to overcome difficulties that make them stronger.

When I was young, I didn’t want to read self-help kinds of books. I didn’t want didactic books that just told me what was wrong and how to fix myself. I wanted mostly to escape, but I ended up finding help by reading stories that helped me experience struggle and adventure vicariously through characters I liked. I have loved superhero stories since I could read, and many of those heroes also dealt with problems. Gene Luen Yang’s “Superman Smashes the Klan” is adapted from a 1940s radio drama. Yes, Superman is a superhero, but Yang portrays his struggle with his identity as an alien: an immigrant to Earth. This story focuses on a Chinese immigrant family facing racism in Metropolis, but also shows the reader how a young White boy starts coming to terms with his racist relatives. This book is also highly relevant to current racism and the attacks so many people of Asian and Pacific Islander descent have suffered for the past year or so (and for over a century). Yang’s young Superman doesn’t fully come into his powers until he accepts his alien nature. Tommy and Roberta Lee have to learn who they can trust to treat them with respect and friendship, while Chuck has to decide who and what he really wants to be.

I think that almost any book can be a source of inspiration that touches a young reader and helps them feel more a part of their world. It might be the main character, or the society depicted in the story, or the family relationships—anything could be the critical factor that helps readers build more resilience in whatever form they need to feel stronger and better about themselves. And we at Brodart help librarians find more of those books to put onto their shelves for their patrons.

If you’re looking for a graphic novel guru, you’re looking for Kat Kan. Kat looks like the stereotypical librarian with glasses and a bun, until you see the hair sticks and notice her earrings may be tiny books, TARDISes from Doctor Who, or LEGO Batgirls. Click here for more.

Beverly Cleary: She Inspired Many, But What Were Her Inspirations?

Source: Christina Kochi Hernandez/Getty Images

By Suzanne W. Hawley, MLS

I sighed sadly when I read of Beverly Cleary’s death on March 25. Those of us who work with children’s books revered her as an iconic figure in our field. She lived a long and full life, but I guess I thought she would always be with us. Still, 104 years isn’t bad!

Cleary often spoke about the original inspiration for her first novel, “Henry Huggins,” which was published in 1950. After college at UC Berkeley, she returned to her childhood home of Oregon to work as a librarian in Yakima. Tired of hearing her young patrons asking for “books about us,” and remembering she had experienced the same frustrations as a youngster, she set to work. To all of our enduring delight, she succeeded in developing the magical recipe for funny, smart stories about engaging characters…just like the kids in her own neighborhood.

Many years ago, I had the pleasure of listening to Cleary at an ALA Conference. She was an absolute delight. She was charming, funny, and perhaps a little shy. She talked about her life and career and included several stories about how her books came to life. Someone asked about the inspiration for “The Mouse and the Motorcycle.”

In the story, when Keith, the young hotel guest, leaves his room, Ralph S. Mouse scurries out from his piney knot, runs up a telephone wire, and jumps on the toy motorcycle that Keith has left behind. Ralph’s joyride ends when he and the motorcycle land in a trash can! Cleary created such a wonderful word picture of this escapade that I still laugh every time I read it.

So how did she come up with the idea for this book? Here’s the backstory. On one occasion, Cleary and her young son and daughter accompanied her husband on a business trip to England. During the trip, her son became ill and Mr. Cleary went shopping for something to take the boy’s mind off his ailment. A Hot Wheels motorcycle was the perfect answer. Needless to say, the toy was a hit, and her son had endless fun running it up and down the ridged lines on his bedspread: perfect roads for a small motorcycle.

Sometime later, when back at home, Ms. Cleary was working in her garden. She was sitting on the ground in front of a bench planting flowers when she heard scrambling behind her, followed by a loud noise. She looked up to where a large metal can sat at the end of the bench. Upon investigation, Cleary discovered that a mouse had run down the bench behind her, and instead of hopping to the ground, fell into the trash can. Add those two episodes together and voila! You have the ingredients for a delightful and enduring children’s story—at least at the hands of Beverly Cleary.

I told this account many times to groups of kids in my libraries and they reacted as I did: completely enthralled! Thank you, Beverly Cleary, for providing such wonderful stories for so many generations.

In addition to selecting children and young adult materials for library collections, Suzy Hawley spends her days interfering in her children’s lives as much as possible, wheedling her husband into cooking dinner just one more time, and walking on the beach. Click here for more.

What Was Your Most Rewarding Experience as a Librarian?

As librarians, we all know on a base level that we’re making a difference, that our work is important. But too often, we lose sight of the key moments that fill us with joy, each true connection quickly overshadowed by the next project on our list.

Our librarians are excited to share the personal memories they turn to for that extra boost of inspiration.

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Julie O’Connor: “Cutting the Ribbon”

It’s difficult to pinpoint the most rewarding experience I’ve had as a librarian since my job is to help libraries with their collection development needs on a daily basis. It’s gratifying to help solve collection development conundrums, whether they be large or small. But if pressed, I think back to one of my first experiences as a project librarian. It was 2005 and Camden County, New Jersey, received funding to build a much-needed library. Their excitement was contagious because the residents and leaders had waited so long for this building. I know everyone is over the moon when a new library opens or is renovated, but experiencing that for the first time was something that will always stay with me.

Fern Hallman: “Seeing is Believing”

I was doing an ongoing vendor selection project and the librarians in that system were not thrilled that I was selecting their books. The library administrators who had decided to hire Brodart to do it that way held a meeting where the local library staff could ask me questions about my process. One of the librarians said she decided to put all of my recent selections on a book cart to really take a hard look at them and discovered that they were all checked out.

Scott Piepenburg: “Blazing a Trail”

My most rewarding experience as a librarian was when I was put in charge of the district automation program for Dallas Independent School District, then the eighth largest school district in the nation. We took 225 schools from only five with any type of automation to full automation in 18 months. This included purchasing and installing computers, creating a district-wide network (none existed at the time), and undertaking a complete retrospective conversion of the shelf lists.

At the time, it was the most extensive automation project in the nation and resulted in the largest school automation project in the United States; we did this while also creating and implementing centralized receiving and cataloging, doing almost 5,000 titles per week. Having no model to follow, as the system administrator, I was quite excited with the project, and pleased how well it turned out.

Stephanie Campbell: “The Stay-Behind”

When I was just starting out as a librarian, I worked in older adult outreach services and was charged with creating engaging programs for residents at nursing homes and assisted living apartments. The divergent mental and physical health issues found in institutional settings, coupled with different backgrounds and experiences, make these seniors a particularly challenging group to entertain. Playful activities such as bingo, crafts, and sing-alongs were the most prevalent among the in-house recreational offerings at that time.

I took a more educational approach, with book talks and brief documentaries on particular topics to encourage conversation. Residents often dozed off during my programs. Others left the room when they got bored. Some stayed just to be polite, then thanked me, and bolted out the door the minute it was over. I performed these programs monthly at multiple facilities and it was wonderful when the topic and the audience were a good match. But even if I could reach just one person, it made it all worthwhile.

I remember one female resident in particular who attended every program I did at that nursing home. One day, as she lingered after the presentation, she told me how much she valued my visits and the material I chose to present, because it made her feel like an adult again, not treated as a child. It was both heartbreaking and gratifying to hear that. I ended up personally delivering books to her outside of work for a while. The power of human connection really hit me, and I began to realize how much I could make a difference in someone’s life.

Suzanne Hawley: “Nothing Beats a ‘Black Tie’ Auction with a Vanna White Lookalike”

In order to get my fifth-graders to read more and write about what they read, I decided to hold a dress-up auction near the end of the school year. The kids read like crazy and wrote about what they’d read. The biggest hurdle for me was to read all the letters…there were at least 90 students writing letters most years! I gave them points, which would be used as dollars to bid with. On the day of the “black tie” auction, we gave each student a paper black bow tie with the number of dollars they had earned. We had an auctioneer and a Vanna White lookalike. Everyone—teachers, students, parents, administrators—were dressed to the nines. I used a book called “Celebrity Addresses” and sent letters to everyone in there I thought the kids would like an autograph or trinket from. It was exciting to watch the items roll in. We received, among other things, an autographed picture from Michael Jordan, a pound (!) of Wrigley bubblegum, an FBI cap, many gift certificates, tapes from popular singers, many coupons for restaurants, and so much more.

Parents manned tables where the kids would go with their ties when they won an item. They’d receive their winnings and the parent would subtract the amount it cost from their balance. I held these auctions in three schools for 20 years. Once a community realized how much fun it was, they began contributing items. We even got bicycles and TVs. Fifth grade was the highest grade in all these schools. Teachers from other grades were invited to bring their classes in to watch for half an hour and in the last schools we could stream it on the TV. The end result was a huge increase enthusiasm for reading in every grade. The kids couldn’t wait to get to fifth grade so they could participate in the auction.

Kat Kan: “A Zoom Surprise and a Virtual Hug”

There have been so many over the several decades that I’ve worked as a librarian. Here is one of the most recent.

A couple of weeks before this writing, as we were leaving our church after the service, I heard someone shouting, “Mrs. Kan! Mrs. Kan!” I turned, and a tall boy came running down the path from the building. He was one of my former students when I was a school librarian. I hadn’t seen him since May 2019. He was one of the quiet ones, always drawing, borrowing books, not saying much. I always looked out for him, to make sure he was feeling comfortable and that he was always welcome in the library. That Sunday he told me how much he missed me, and the library. Then he proudly told me, “I can drive now!”

He has a younger brother, who was not the best student, but did enjoy coming to the school library and always borrowed books to read for fun. This past Sunday, I spoke to their mother; she’s been attending services at our church for about a month now. She told me that her younger son has connected with some of his classmates and former classmates, and they have their own Zoom book club! She told me “It’s all because of you. You helped them to love reading.” She’s clearly proud of her sons, but gave me credit for them becoming readers. I nearly cried.

I work in a public library now, and my department answers our county’s Citizen Information Line to help people with questions about getting tested for COVID-19, registering for vaccinations, and so on. Here, people must register and make appointments for the free COVID-19 tests at the county’s contracted clinic; the website is clunky and rather difficult for most people to navigate. There is no direct way to contact the clinic or the company that designed the website, so we get those calls. Sometimes callers reach us after trying for hours to find information. When I answer the line, I try to be as helpful and comforting as I can be.

Today, I helped a woman who called our line three times (I helped her twice). I stayed on the line with her as she negotiated the website and finally succeeded in setting up appointments for herself and her husband. At the end of the third call, she said, “I don’t know your name, but if I could, I’d give you the biggest hug! You people (meaning my department) are the only ones giving us good information and help! Thank you, we appreciate you so much!” So, helping connect people to books, and helping people get the information they need to help themselves in this pandemic are two aspects of being a librarian. In both cases, just knowing I helped in any small way makes me feel as though I’m doing my part to help the world be a better place.

Gwen Vanderhage: “Cultural Exchange”

One of my most rewarding experiences as a public librarian was helping a population of Eritrean refugees who frequented my branch. The children were voracious readers and consumers of American pop culture. It was fun to help them find books and videos — they always had very specific opinions about what icons they were searching for and authors they were reading, but not always the ones we had on the shelf that day. The parents wanted help navigating and printing forms from government websites and getting matched up with computer tutors. They helped us keep our foreign film collection up to date. These families truly emulated why the library is a hub in every community and we were happy to get to know them each evening.

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Everyone needs encouragement. Hopefully our librarians have helped you feel better about your own work on the frontlines. If we’ve inspired you in any way, we encourage you to share your story.

What’s one of your most-affirming experiences as a librarian? Tell us all about it in the comments below.

Origami How-To: 3 Videos to Get Started

By Kat Kan, MLS

Many people are going stir-crazy these days, so I thought now was a good time to share a few of my origami videos. Feel free to share these tutorials far and wide—and don’t forget to try some origami, yourself!

I have been folding origami since I was like eight years old. I started with origami paper, and when we moved back from Japan to the United States, I actually started using notebook paper from school. You can easily adapt notebook paper, wrapping paper, and others to make origami paper squares, even if you don’t have any at home.

No scissors? No problem! Just fold a piece of paper back and forth along the same edge until the paper weakens. Then, carefully tear in a straight line (It’s easier than it sounds!).

In the first video, I’ll show you how to build three things out of the same piece of paper: a house, a piano, and a fox. Let’s get started.

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The traditional paper crane is called the orizuru. This was the very first thing I ever folded. I’m amazed that I did it! But I loved it so much that, of all the different origami that my grandmother taught me, this is still my favorite one. We’ll also be making a flapping bird toy.

In Japan, in the Shinto religion, each time you fold a paper crane, you’re praying. The idea is that if you can succeed in folding 1,000 cranes, your prayer will come true. I also share the true story of a little girl named Sadako Sasaki and the legacy she inspired. Do you have your paper ready?

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“Trash Origami” is a really fun book with a lot of different kinds of ideas. We’re going to look at how to make two things from this book: a Jumping Frog and the Crown & Towers Game. That way once you’ve made your frog and your crowns, you can play a fun game with them.

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Videos originally posted by Northwest Regional Library System, Florida.

If you’re looking for a graphic novel guru, you’re looking for Kat Kan. Kat looks like the stereotypical librarian with glasses and a bun, until you see the hair sticks and notice her earrings may be tiny books, TARDISes from Doctor Who, or LEGO Batgirls. Click here for more.

Beloved Comics Characters: Looking Back at 60 Years of Reading Comics

By Kat Kan, MLS

Recently, a friend on Facebook challenged me to post images of 10 comics characters that had an impact on me. Since I started reading comics with newspaper comic strips when I was in Kindergarten, I realized that I have been reading comics, in one form or another, for 60 years. I used that Facebook challenge to think back over the decades.

I remember watching lots of cartoons on television when I was between four and five years old: mostly Popeye, Mighty Mouse, Yogi Bear, and all the various Hanna-Barbera cartoons that were on back then. We had just moved to San Francisco from Hawaii in 1959. The newspaper’s comics page had strips like Peanuts, Blondie, Little Orphan Annie, and Steve Canyon, but I paid more attention to the humorous strips. I thought I was pretty grown up while “reading” the newspaper every day, although I always went straight to the “funnies.”

Popeye was one of my favorite cartoons. I could sing along with his “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man” theme song, and I decided to eat lots of spinach in the hope I could grow to be as strong as he was (as I’m sure a lot of other kids did, too). Bugs Bunny was another favorite character, and my mother could get us kids to eat whole carrots as a treat. She let us strut around the house saying “What’s up, Doc?” while eating carrots like they were candy. Hmm, my Japanese mother was pretty smart, using cartoon characters to “trick” us into eating healthy…

When my Air Force Sergeant dad was transferred to Japan in late summer 1961, I was ready to start first grade. He and my mother started taking us kids with them to the Base Exchange (BX) every Saturday—think of it as WalMart or Target for military families. The BX had a magazine rack, and the bottom rack was filled with “funny books,” otherwise known as comic books. Until then I really had no idea that such things existed. My parents allowed us to choose one comic book each week (they had to approve our choice), which we three kids had to share. As the oldest, and the one who was actually reading, I tended to choose the comics. Over the course of every week, I’d read and reread the books until they fell apart.

Some of my early favorites include Little Lulu, Nancy and Sluggo, Casper the Friendly Ghost, Baby Huey, Dennis the Menace (yes, there were comic books, not just the newspaper comic strips), and Richie Rich. Of these titles, my absolute favorite is Little Lulu. She was such a sassy girl, easily able to handle all the boys, especially Tubby. I loved that she wore dresses, but that it didn’t stop her from doing all kinds of fun, physical things. She also believed that she and other girls were just as good as boys, and she acted on that. Decades later, Dark Horse Comics published collections of John Stanley’s Little Lulu comics, and my younger son, then about eight years old, would sit in a chair in my study and read them, giggling most of the time. One day he looked up and told me, “This comic is for girls.” I asked him, “You’re reading the book, do you like it?” “Yeah.” “So, if you like the comic, that means it’s not only for girls, right?” He thought for a moment, then said, “Yes!” And now, present day, Drawn & Quarterly is doing its own reprinting of Little Lulu comics. That girl has had lasting power… and I love it!

When I was in third grade, we Air Force families were moved from the Washington Heights housing in central Tokyo (near Ueno Park) out to newly built housing (called Kanto Mura) nearly an hour away from the city. The housing was set up in quadrangles of four-unit buildings. We had new neighbors, and all of us kids played with each other and went to each other’s homes all the time. The moms all helped each other keep track of us. Our house became the place where a bunch of the boys would come with their stacks of comics; I was the only girl in the group. We’d sit on the living room floor in kind of a circle, put all the comics in the middle, and just read one comic book after another. My parents still only let me buy the funny comics, but some of the boys brought really cool superhero comics. That was my introduction to Batman, The Phantom, Superman, and The Spirit. I really liked those heroes. I loved the adventures, and they just seemed to go better with the books I was reading: mythology, adventures, and mysteries.

In 1964 we moved back to the U.S., and within a few months my parents decided to buy a house. It was just a couple of blocks from a drugstore that had a comic book rack. By this time, I was getting a weekly allowance of a whopping 25 cents! I used part of that allowance once a month or so to buy comics. But now, with my own money, I was buying superhero and adventure comics. I really loved The Green Lantern then; Hal Jordan was my favorite superhero. I think I liked that he was pretty much a regular guy who got his powers from his ring, which in turn was powered by the lantern. It seemed to be more straight science fiction, which I was reading in books.

I also bought Tarzan comics (published by Gold Key). I was already reading the novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs, borrowed from my local public library. Back then, starting at age 10, I didn’t have to have a parent with me to go to the library and check out books. I read a lot, close to a book a day. When my mother ordered me to go outside, I’d often take a book or some comics and sit outside on the front steps from the sidewalk up to our lawn and read, until she’d order me to either pull weeds or go ride my bike.

By 1967 I would also pick up random comics that tied in to shows I watched on television: The Green Hornet, Star Trek, The Rat Patrol…I reread those comics a lot. I would also borrow comics from our neighbors. I remember reading a big stack of Metal Men comics and some Batman Family comics. I loved Batgirl on the Batman TV show, but the Batgirl in the comics wasn’t like Yvonne Craig’s portrayal, so I didn’t seek out Batman comics on the store racks. I had a nice little stack of comics that I kept reading. I also bought the occasional issue of “Mad,” especially if the issue included a parody of a TV show or movie I liked. In addition, I bought a number of mass market paperback collections of Peanuts comics, which I also read to pieces—literally.

My dad had been deployed to Vietnam the summer of 1967. When he returned home in 1968, he had orders to move across the country to Robins Air Force Base in Warner Robins, Georgia. As an enlisted man, he didn’t have a generous weight allowance for household goods to be shipped to his new assignment, so he ordered us kids to get rid of a lot of our stuff, especially books and comics. I snuck a few of them into one of my boxes, but I had to give up most of them.

For a couple of years, I just kept rereading those few comics I saved, especially Star Trek and Green Hornet, since I no longer had easy access to stores. We spent one year in Georgia, before my dad was reassigned to Hawaii. While we lived in Kailua that first year there, I found a stack of Classics Illustrated comics at a neighborhood garage sale and bought them. I read lots of classic literature already, but the comics were so much fun! When we finally got base housing at Hickam Air Force Base, where my dad was assigned, I started high school and met a girl who loved science fiction and comics as much as I did. Ruth introduced me to Marvel Comics. In the mid-1960s I had watched the Spider-Man and Fantastic Four cartoons on TV, but I was a DC superhero comics fan. I spent a lot of time at Ruth’s house, where we would read through her X-Men comics.

Fast-forward to the mid-1970s. I was attending University of Hawaii and living at home, while working part-time at the local WaldenBooks. The store carried trade paperback collections of Heavy Metal comics translated from the French: I remember “Lone Sloan: Delirius.” And Simon & Schuster published trade paperback collections of Marvel Comics in “Origins of Marvel Comics,” “Bring On the Bad Guys,” “The Superhero Women,” and others. I found the trade paperback of “God Loves, Man Kills”—a classic X-Men story—and lots more. I went on a buying and reading spree. “Elfquest” by Wendy and Richard Pini came out in trade paperbacks in the late 1970s, along with comic book adaptations of Robert Asprin’s “Myth Adventures” fantasy novels, and I bought and read all of those.

I focused my buying and reading on the trade collections of comics, because I bought them from bookstores. By this time, most supermarkets and drugstores carried very little in the way of magazines or comics. They had done away with the spinner racks, and just displayed a few magazines and maybe some Archie comics digests at the checkout counters. WaldenBooks didn’t carry them, but Honolulu Bookstore carried English translations of Japanese comics, starting in the mid-1980s. When we lived in Japan, I used to “read” the comics in my mother’s Japanese magazines, so when I saw some manga, I picked them up. One of my earliest purchases was “Mai, the Psychic Girl” by Kazuya Koda and Ryoichi Ikegami.

I also finally ventured into a couple of specialty comics shops. From that time, I started buying comics issues of some Marvel and DC series, then branched out to Eclipse Comics, Valiant, and several other publishers. Fantagraphics had been publishing “Usagi Yojimbo” comics, and I bought the trade paperback collections. I have kept up with “Usagi Yojimbo” through several decades now; Stan Sakai combines Japanese history, folklore, and cultural traditions to tell compelling stories featuring his ronin rabbit. As a mixed Japanese-White person (in Hawaii we’re called Hapa), I really appreciate seeing my Japanese culture represented in comics. I also bought the original black and white “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” trades.

These days, I enjoy manga for the time the creators take to tell the stories, and for telling stories in many different genres—from crime drama to fantasy, to wacky humor, to serious science fiction, to historical fiction, to stories focusing on food, to creepy horror. I like the black and white art, which helps me read horror. I don’t like full-color gore that so many American horror comics depict. I also get a kick out of the fact that several publishers are reprinting or publishing new comics featuring some of the comics characters I read when I was young. And I love seeing prose writers getting into comics: people like Joe Hill, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Roxane Gay, and others. I jumped up and down in my chair and screamed with joy at my computer screen when I saw that Jerry Craft’s graphic novel “The New Kid” had won the 2020 Newbery Award.

I read comics for all different age levels now, including mainstream superhero and independent comics, in almost every genre. I have supported Kickstarter and Patreon projects for a lot of new comics creators. I’m now 65 years old, and I love comics even more than I did at five. I don’t plan to stop reading comics until I can’t read any more at all. I love the incredible diversity of creators, styles, and genres that people can read. They exist in print and online. Some are available for free. Many libraries carry at least a few graphic novels that people can borrow. And I really love that my work at Brodart focuses on helping librarians find good graphic novels for their collections.

I never would have believed, even when I was in library school, that I could use my love for comics in my job. It’s been an amazing journey, and I’ll continue on it as long as I can.

 

 

Katharine

If you’re looking for a graphic novel guru, you’re looking for Kat Kan. Kat looks like the stereotypical librarian with glasses and a bun, until you see the hair sticks and notice her earrings may be tiny books, TARDISes from Doctor Who, or LEGO Batgirls. Click here for more.