Barry Trott, Column Editor
Barry Trott and Vicki Novak, Guest Columnist
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In spring 2006, a spirited debate on the merits of separating out library fiction collections by genre was held on the Fiction_L discussion list (subscribe at www.webrary.org/rs/FLmenu.html). Interesting points were made on both sides of the issue, and while no firm conclusions were reached, the discussion exemplified the thought and passion that readers’ advisors bring to their work. This issue’s column features two articles that present each of the sides in the ongoing question of how to best present a collection that will best serve the reading interests of library users. Looking at the concerns about separating out genre collections is Barry Trott. He is Adult Services Director at the Williamsburg (Va.) Regional Library, past chair of the RUSA CODES Readers’ Advisory Committee, and series editor for Libraries Unlimited’s Read On … series.
Writing on the value of genre separation is Vicki Novak, who earned her MLS from the University of Arizona and has worked for fifteen years at the Maricopa County Library District in Phoenix. She wrote the chapter, “The Story’s the Thing: Narrative Nonfiction for Recreational Reading” for Nonfiction Readers’ Advisory, published by Libraries Unlimited in 2004, edited by Robert Burgin. Trott and Novak are both active participants in the discussion of readers’ advisory (RA) theory and practice on the Fiction_L discussion list.–Editor
A recent New Yorker cartoon depicts a bookstore clerk talking to two men. The clerk is saying, “We no longer shelve gay fiction separately. It’s been assimilated.”1 It has been an accepted truth in readers’ advisory (RA) that separating out genres from the rest of the fiction collection is the best mechanism for serving readers who come into our libraries. Sharon Baker, in The Responsive Public Library: How to Develop and Market a Winning Collection, gives an excellent summary of the research done on genre separation and shelving.2 Her work makes a compelling case for separating out fiction genres in library collections. However, as increasing numbers of authors are crossing genres from book to book and publishing titles that encompass multiple genres in a single work, practitioners of RA may consider rethinking how they use genre classification in their practice. It may be that our goal of serving genre fiction readers has unintended consequences for all our readers and for the practice of RA.
There are several issues to consider when looking at whether to interfile fiction collections or to separate out the various genres. Among these are problems in defining genre, the stigmatization of genres, time and space issues, and the role of the readers’ advisor. In all of these cases, it is worth examining the effect of separating out genres from the rest of the fiction collection.
Defining Genres
There is no question that genre provides a way to describe and access certain types of writing. Even Ursula K. Le Guin, who is no fan of the use of genre, notes, “The concept of genre is a valid one. We need a method for sorting out and defining varieties of narrative fiction, and genre gives us a tool to begin the job.”3 As readers’ advisors, we need to understand genre, for it is in analyzing genres that we come to understand the stylistic elements that authors use that will appeal to readers–of fantasy, Westerns, romances, mysteries, and so on. Here the idea of genre is useful because it defines a set of precepts that describe a certain style of writing. This knowledge will then allow us as readers’ advisors to connect readers to books that they will enjoy. In fact, it is an understanding of what the appeals of a particular genre are that will allow us to make connections between books and authors that may be separated by genre classification.
For instance, a classic appeal of the Western genre is the story of the lone hero, struggling to right an imbalance created by a monolithic evil (be it a land-hungry cattle baron, a rapacious outlaw, or the impersonal and unfeeling machinations of banks and railroads). A readers’ advisor who understands that this is a common thread in many stories in the Western genre will certainly be able to direct a reader to the next Louis L’Amour or Stephen Bly novel. But at the same time, the readers’ advisor may also suggest that this reader try the legal thrillers of John Grisham or Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan stories, both of which have similar elements of the lone hero and his faceless nemesis.
There are, however, problems that arise as we try to define genre and place titles accordingly. As noted above, many authors are writing books that could feasibly be placed in a variety of genres. Is Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife a work of science fiction? After all, its most prominent plot feature is time travel. Should it be classified as romance? This is certainly how many reader reviews on Amazon.com described the book.4 Or is the book literary fiction, telling a story of family and relationships in lyrical and elegant prose? Logically, this book could be placed in any one of these genres, and in libraries that separate out genre fiction, a reader could possibly expect to find this title in one of three places, depending on how the catalogers chose to identify the book. The Time Traveler’s Wife is by no means the only recent title that exemplifies this problem. Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow–both of which have strong science fiction elements–and many other titles have crossed genre boundaries.
The Genre Stigma
Where libraries choose to place titles like those mentioned above points out a potential problem that can arise in the use of genre classification. There are many readers who use genre classification not so much as a tool for selection of titles but rather as a means of rejecting titles they do not wish to read. These are the readers that all readers’ advisors have encountered, who say things like “I never read science fiction” or “Fantasy stories are for teenagers.” In the case of such books as The Sparrow or The Time Traveler’s Wife, putting these titles in a genre collection will mean that readers who automatically reject those genres will rarely come across these books. At the same time, putting one of these titles in the general fiction collection may mean that readers who limit their browsing to genre collections might never come across a title that they would otherwise enjoy.
In her essay “Genre: A Word Only a Frenchman Could Love,” Le Guin notes that it is when genre begins to be used to make value judgments about a particular work that the system leads to “arbitrary hierarchies” that promote “ignorance and arrogance.”5 We have made great strides in RA to get away from the notion that genre books are inferior; that if a book of horror or romance is “well written” (whatever that means) then it must not be a real genre book; and our efforts towards this end have had some measure of success. Most readers’ advisors subscribe, at least in theory, to Rosenberg’s First Law of Reading: “Never apologize for your reading tastes.” Nevertheless, a quick look at any readers’ forum on the Web will indicate that many readers still think of genre fiction as something less than real literature.
The danger that arises in separating out genre fiction in libraries is that this separation can contribute to the continued notion that there is a hierarchy of writing and that genre fiction belongs lower on the scale than literary fiction. Too often, genre fiction collections that are separated out are not clearly identified as such, and represent the arcana of the library’s holdings, where only the true devotees venture. While these true devotees may be delighted to have a section devoted to them, such breaking down of the collection into specializations makes it less accessible to those readers who “don’t read horror” or “never pick up a Western.”
As Wendell Berry points out, one of the dangers of specialization is that it allows you to ignore everything that is not in your specialty.6 When fiction collections are separated out into specialized subcollections, we are trying to create a library that is easy for readers of genre fiction to use. But at the same time, we may also be creating a library in which readers can simply ignore parts of the collection because they are labeled science fiction, fantasy, or mystery. As readers’ advisors, this should give us pause because our goal is to make connections between readers and books and not to artificially wall off parts of the collection.
Space Issues
Another series of concerns that arises with collections that are arranged by genre relates to the use of library space. With increasing numbers of writers moving from genre to genre with each book they write, genre separation in the fiction collection means that readers who are looking for works by a particular author are going to have to look in multiple locations to find books that they want to read. This concern becomes particularly pressing given the data cited by Baker et al. indicating that readers consistently choose titles by author.7
With an author such as Walter Mosley, it is possible that a reader would have to look in science fiction, general fiction, and mystery fiction in order to locate all of his titles (unless, of course they were all grouped together in an African American fiction section, which raises another set of issues). Similarly, a reader looking for the works of Doris Lessing would need to look in science fiction and literary fiction. The alternative would be simply to put Lessing’s science fiction works in with her literary works, which makes a negative statement about science fiction writing.
An often mentioned solution to this problem of collocation of an author’s works is to purchase multiple copies of these titles and place them in all the appropriate sections of the collections. Two problems arise here. First, few libraries have the financial resources to purchase multiple copies of all the titles that would be required. Second, few libraries have the shelf space available to house substantial additional copies of titles. This second concern also applies to the suggestion that book dummies be used to direct readers to other copies of an author’s works that are located in a separate collection.
Time Issues
A common thread in discussions of genre placement is the necessity of reviewing the cataloging of the fiction collection to ensure that materials are in the proper subcollection. A recent discussion on the Fiction_L list included the following post: “We find similar slip-ups all the time, when catalogers work from subject rather than other things more pertinent to a genre, so that we are continually pulling books like, say, Ira Sher’s Gentlemen of Space, a lovely mainstream novel that just happens to involve astronauts, out of science fiction.”8
A frequent concern of readers’ advisors is the lack of time to practice their craft. If a result of separating out genre collections is that we are spending significant amounts of time rechecking the work of the cataloging staff and then sending back titles to be recataloged, consider interfiling the collections and spending more time out in the stacks working with the readers, connecting them to the titles that they are seeking. We would better serve our readers by devoting more of our time to providing assistance to them through direct service and building useful guides to our collections than by spending the time trying to decide where a particular book fits in the collection. The increasing prevalence of outsourced cataloging that is not under the direct control of the library makes this an even more pressing issue.
Much of the literature that supports the separation of genres notes that breaking the collection down into smaller units makes it easier for the reader to browse and locate titles. Baker cites a study by Spiller in 1980 that indicated “[M]ost fiction readers try to expand their list of favorite authors by browsing for preferred genres.”9 But in reality, this sort of browsing is not that simple. Sheldrick Ross discusses an interview with a reader who has been frustrated by her inability to locate new horror authors who can recreate the pleasure she found in the writings of Anne Rice and Stephen King.10 This reader was frustrated that the titles she was picking up in the library did not have the fast pace and immediacy of her preferred authors (there was no indication if her library separated or interfiled genre fiction).
In this case, as in many others, the reader was looking for titles not so much by genre as by appeal (fast-paced) and by author (Rice and King). Sending this reader over to the horror collection would not necessarily address her frustrations, as the books in a horror section would range from the fast-moving King-like titles to slower-paced titles that the reader would not enjoy. In this case, as in many others, a successful conclusion to this reader’s library visit would more likely be made by a direct encounter with a readers’ advisor. The reader’s browsing habits were not helping her find what she wanted. Here is where the readers’ advisor’s time would be best spent in seeking out readers and in developing useful displays and guides to the collection. Read-alike lists placed in the stacks near the appropriate authors, ongoing displays of genre fiction titles, and direct assistance to readers in the stacks will best serve both the readers and the library.
The Role of the Readers’ Advisor
Finally, the question of whether to separate out genre collections deals in part with the view of the role of the readers’ advisor. Among many librarians working in RA, there seems to be a reluctance to suggest titles to readers that go beyond the reader’s genre interests. This may be in part a reaction to the early days of the RA movement, where the goal was to raise the standards of the reader from novels to the heights of nonfiction.11 Openness to all sorts of reading interests is a laudable goal and has immensely improved RA service.