But Dilevko and Magowan have an ideological axe to grind. To do so, they make claims for their “history” that go beyond the boundaries of any evidence. Rhetoric used to promote adult education programs in the early twentieth century is taken as proof of their superiority to modern approaches, but there is little evaluation of how well these programs met educational goals or were received by readers. One cannot help but notice that almost all of these programs were confined to the largest American cities, where some budgets might once have supported full research libraries and staffs may, historically, have been large enough to maintain subject experts.
Dilevko and Magowan present egregious examples of abusive practices in contemporary publishing and marketing, then generalize these extremes to larger classes. Because examples of ridiculous cross-media promotion exist, they believe all of contemporary literature is commodified. Because some bookstores and online sellers will sell product placements, all bestsellers are found fraudulent. Because there are some questionable or overly specialized literary awards, all award-winning books are condemned. And because a few genre books are produced according to publisher rules and templates, all of genre fiction is defined as stereotypical. On page after page, “genre titles, bestsellers, celebrity-authored books, and prize-winning titles” are lumped together for condemnation, as if these books were all of one ilk. These extremist positions show a lack of education about contemporary literature. Dilevko and Magowan could use a good advisor to steer them away from books whose advertising surpasses their quality, and, if it is what they want, toward bestsellers, genre fiction, and award-winners with literary heft.
But therein lies the problem: Dilevko and Magowan wouldn’t consult a readers’ advisor. Time and again in their analysis, they hold the judgment and interpretive skills of contemporary public librarians and readers in contempt. According to them, we have a Pavlovian response to every marketing ploy, drooling on command when confronted with a mass-marketed book. Another criticism that appears repeatedly in the book is that modern readers want “less Rembrandt, more me.” (The authors frequently indulge in the kind of mindless slogans that pervade the commodified culture they so condemn.) Any attempt by readers to pursue their own agendas is dismissed as narcissistic self-satisfaction driven by unseen commercial forces. This elitism is ultimately self-defeating: one can’t build the future of a public service on a foundation of contempt for the public.
The authors don’t exhibit knowledge of public library practice and apparently chose not to talk to the advisors whom they vilify. As a result, they frequently misrepresent those librarians’ working methods. Instead, they characterize modern practice with more slogans. Contemporary RA, according to Dilevko and Magowan, is dominated by two forces: an extreme version of “Give ‘Em What They Want” populism promoted by Charlie Robinson at Baltimore County Public Library that “deskills” the profession through knee-jerk promotion of popular culture, and overreliance on lists and weak technical tools that they claim leads to the “McProfiling” of readers through the fragmenting prism of appeal factors.3 Each of these claims deserves a response.
Give ‘Em What They Want, but Listen to Them First
While it is true that modern RA does try to give readers what they want, characterizing contemporary RA as an extension of the classics-bashing, antiprofessional librarian philosophy of Baltimore County director Charlie Robinson is wrong. Advisors give readers what they want not by buying more copies of the bestsellers, as Robinson might have done, nor by forcing a great book on them, as Dilevko and Magowan would do, but by listening to how they describe their reading experiences and desires and then finding a mix of books that are likely to appeal to them and further their personal goals.
AMEN! I remember when reviews and news of this book came out. I took a look at Mr. Dilevko’s resume. Not only was his “scholarly” activity in a hodgepodge of topics, he had absolutely no public library experience or knowledge. None – so how can he claim to be any sort of expert? And this is appropriate for someone training future librarians? I pity his students.
As one of Dilevko’s current students and a TPL employee for almost eleven years, I must say that Dilevko is dead on. Unfortunately, most large public systems DO focus on items that are deemed ‘marketable,’ moving away from what really is considered truly great literature… it’s a shame.
I disagree with the first comment. Dilevko may have no public library experience but so what? RA is an area where every party involved can have an opinion about how it should work. Anyone who cares about RA can write a good book about RA. You don’t have to be a drug addict to help drug addicts, and many excellent educators do not have their own children. So what? An avid reader who has been using public libraries for years can write a good book about RA. It won’t be written from a librarian’s perspective, but so what? Dilevko may not be a public librarian, but he’s an expert who has been researching the issue for years, and I am sure he’s a dedicated public library user. His fresh perspective should be welcomed. A plurality of interpretations/diversity of opinions should be welcomed. I may personally disagree with over 50% of what is said in the book, but I can certainly appreciate and admire the quality of craftsmanship and Dilevko’s courage to stand up for what he believes in. Perhaps the book is somewhat intellectually idealistic and excessively nostalgic. But is that necessarily a bad thing? Dilevko did not intend to write an RA manual. It’s a philosophical meditation and a well researched piece. If we stop dreaming or forget the past or have no difference of opinions, our profession will fester and rot. It was Henrik Ibsen who warned that “The worst enemy of truth and freedom in our society is the compact majority.”
I did not know about this book until I read Dr. Ross’s review (LQ, Oct. 2008). What a review! What poise and tact and wisdom. What grace and objectivity. Surely I went off and read the book. This book falls short of a scholarly publication that would criticize a theory or a practical approach and present alternatives. Dilevko breaks the cardinal rule of scholarly argument–he gets personal. He seems less interested in improving RA than in chasing his suspects across the RA field. He does not criticize the system but goes after Bill Crowley and Joyce Saricks and Nancy Pearl. He is out there attacking them. It’s his privte little vendetta. Actually, this book can read like a good thriller where the world of North American RA is the world of conspiracy populated by ill-intentioned librarians and confused readers. The author is surely the main character on a mission to save the world. If he wrote fiction he could produce bestsellers. Sorry, not bestsellers, classics… His cental theme is stunningly obvious: librarians are poorly educated, anti-intellectual and ideologically corrupted. Oh self-righteous Dilevko and his book dripping with disdain, condescension and pomp! He’s particularly cruel in his evaluation of Nancy Pearl’s work. For example, Pearl’s recommendations on the Middle East are rendered superficial, pseudointellectual and deliberately misleading. Of course, he counteracts Pearl’s selection with his own “balanced” “thoughtful” and “intellectual” selection. Is he an expert on the Middle East? I don’t think so. Then why is he so confident that his subjective approach is in any way more comprehensive and appropriate than Pearl’s? I have a hard time imagining an ethical scholar disparage another’s lifeword as he does. It all comes down to the argument culture that Dilevko evidently lacks. Civility, ladies and gentlemen, civility and facts!
I am coming to realize that anonymous blogs are not quite appropriate for established academic journals. Private websites, popular magazines or newspapers-yes; scholarly journals–not really.