Because I work as a librarian, the way I discover new-to-me books has changed from when I was younger and not a librarian. I see what titles cross the circulation desk; peruse the records in the library catalog; read entries in themed book lists from Barnes & Noble and Orbit; and find books or DVDs when I straighten the library or do shelf-reading (i.e., making sure all the books are in order by call number).
Making reading recommendations is a significant part of my job, so naturally I talk to the folks who tend to check out titles in the same kind of subjects or genres as I do. I listen to patrons to find out what titles people liked (or didn’t).
This isn’t how I used to find books. I used to use a bona fide card catalog. YES.
Outside of the library, I am influenced by friends and family, just as I was when I was a kid, and especially by those people with the same taste in books. Or anyone who can intelligently and/or passionately persuade me to read something outside my favorite topics and authors. Everybody in my family was or is a reader, and although there is some overlap, by and large we all read different genres. One sister really wanted me to read Edith Wharton, whom I put off reading until a college literature course, and then I saw her brilliance in House of Mirth. Now neither of us can shut up about her, or about other lit-fic classics. My other sister loves Ray Bradbury. Her science fiction shelf was fair game, and that’s where I read everything from golden-age SF to the Alien novelization to John Crowley’s Engine Summer. My sister-in-law introduced me to Chelsea Cain. And so on.
A little thing called the Internet has profoundly changed how most of us find our books these days. We read reviews; we have favorite book-bloggers; we look at what is devoured by our Internet peers. When I buy books online, although I am constantly delighted by online suggestions, I have to remember that “electronic discovery” is aided by invisible algorithms and autocompleted search terms.
There is a tactile experience in the presence of books: running my fingers along the spines. Saying hello to old friends and discovering new ones. I think I get the same feeling when I click on book icons to read their blurbs. But I believe there is freedom and independence in physically browsing bookshelves. There is, and always will be, a liberating feeling that comes with the ability to make a choice. When I was a kid, I browsed the shelves for books, or I asked the children’s librarian for help. Most often I wanted to find things my own self. Kids don’t get to make many of their own choices. Other people decide when kids go to school, to bed, when they wake up, and maybe also what they eat, where they go, how they’re supposed to dress for wherever they’re going. Encouraging that kind of decision-making habit is especially important for young readers. And then it’s equally important not to discourage kids from reading graphic novels or fantasy or science fiction as they get older.
All I’ve ever wanted, since my very first trip to storytime at the local library, is to get my hands on a book and riffle through the pages, to try and decide Is this title for me? Is it not? Am I willing to try it? These are lifelong questions I am happy to entertain several times a week.
Here are a few titles I love, and I found them browsing libraries and bookstores:
- The Scarecrows, Robert Westall. I discovered this eerie suspense story in the children’s library when I was nine, and I reread it once a year, well into my college years. It also introduced me to Robert Westall’s other works.
- The Edge of the World, John Gordon. I found this one during a trip to Arkansas, sitting on my cousin’s bookshelf. I read it, and when my mother caught me trying to sneak it home, she made me return it and apologize — but I was delighted to find a copy in my local library. Bliss! However, I reread this book as an adult and while I have fond memories of a plot that just makes sense to a kid (this is not a slight; it’s a commonality in children’s stories), it’s a very weird book.
- The Blade of the Poisoner, Douglas Arthur Hill. My introduction to quest fantasy outside of Narnia. Originally written in the 1980s, it’s now marketed as juvenile or YA fiction. But I consider this my first adult read. Why? Because I found it in the adult collection of the public library the very day I graduated to an adult library account and was unleashed upon the previously-verboten adult collection.
- Kathleen Ann Goonan’s amazeballs Nanotech series. A woman writing science fiction? Whaaat? At the time, I was living in a small town in a state proud of its Confederate heritage, so I was actively looking for escapist fiction. Goonan’s series was one of the only works I’d read besides a ton of Golden Age titles and young adult SF (mostly by men). From Goonan I springboarded to Joanna Russ, Sherri Tepper, and Sarah Zettel.
- The Mysteries, Lisa Tuttle. Reader, it was the cover. I don’t know why. I took a gamble and bought it. And it was a perfect story for me. I found out later that Lisa Tuttle is a horror author who has collaborated with George R.R. Martin.
- The Alienist, Caleb Carr. Reader, it was not the cover. The cover is completely apropos for the historical setting (Theodore Roosevelt’s New York City), sure, but I can’t say what drew me to this book other than thinking, “Hmm. What the hell, let’s give it a shot” after reading the blurb. I was not disappointed. The Alienist is one of my favorite books, and I thought last year’s TNT series really did it justice.
Not gonna lie, the power of the screen is a real thing. As soon as a book or graphic novel is optioned or shows up on screen in some format, as a librarian I can expect a run on that title. (Ask me how many times Umbrella Academy #1 has been checked out since its Netflix debut.) Comparing books to movie versions is really comparing apples to oranges, because we’re comparing two different methods of storytelling. Sure, sometimes the movie or TV version is disappointing (we can all think of examples, so I won’t list any). But a movie or TV treatment does a lot for a book’s popularity.
Tell me: what have you discovered in the library? Or the bookstore? What is the best ever SF/F/H title you found in the library or the bookstore, and you didn’t even know you were looking for it?
Can’t wait to find out. The librarian wants to know.
Featured image by German Poo-Caamano
I am a dedicated browser, both at the library and at the bookstore. I sincerely love Barnes and Noble and I’m horrified at the idea of it closing, leaving my city without a large brick-and-mortar bookstore. However, their employees are constantly ruining my browsing expereince lately. I’ll be looking down, deeply absorbed in reading the back of a book, and an employee will come up behind me and say, “Do you need any help?” I usually startle violently. It’s not just the Barnes and Noble; I feel like nearly every store asks their employees to accost customers like used car salesmen. It makes me want to shop online. But I particularly hate it at Barnes and Noble because the whole point of going to a bookstore for me is to browse in peace.
My biggest browsing find of all time is The Lover by Marguerite Duras. I found it randomly at a Paperback Exchange store and it’s one of my top five favorites of all time. My favorite speculative browsing find is The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden, although I was actively looking for speculative books to review.