6 weeks in - what I have learned

6 weeks as Library Administrator at the Thompson Public Library. 6 weeks. 42 days. 1008 hours.

And what have I learned during this admittedly short-spanned tenure in the town of my birth?

1) Bureaucracy exists only to drive me completely mental.

2) -8 Celsius, blazing sun, no wind, is my favourite climate of all time.
3) Kids are like puppies; you get completely fed-up with their antics, their disregard for your rules, their complete apathy at your attempts to engage them in what the library can offer them other than a playhouse, but how can you stay mad? Look at that punim!

4) For a librarian, I suffer from a serious lack of organization.

5) Books will be returned damaged, CDs will be lost, DVDs will be scratched, but somehow, no one is to blame.

6) The Internet only exists to play Runescape on.

7) My novel Shelf Monkey's official release date is April 17, 2007.

8) Some people have waaaayyyyyyy too much time on their hands.

9) While Robert Rodriguez is a rather inconsistent filmmaker (Sin City rocks, Once Upon a Time in Mexico is confusing but a blast, and Spy Kids 3 is blowfully poor), I don't think I've ever felt a director's joy at doing what he loves come through the screen more.

10) This would be a truly kick-ass cover should Shelf Monkey ever become popular enough to demand a new edition:

11) According to the cbc, I'm a genius. 135! Top 2% of the country, baby! Whoo!

MY FIRST BOOK CHALLENGE, or, Chinstrap Penguins, Deviant Lifestyles, and Religio-centric Homophobia

Now that I've arguably settled in to the somewhat stressful, oftentimes bewildering, yet always entertaining employment opportunity that is the administrator of a public library, I feel that I'm seasoned enough to comment on my first official challenge to a book.

Well, almost official.

I was wrapping up the activities of another day in the dangerous stacks of the Thompson Public Library, finalizing the odds and ends of various avenues that are the sole forte and terrain of the library administrator, when he strolled in. Tall, assured, and armed with eyes of steel and the attitude that only comes from wearing a trucker hat indoors, he was a man on a mission, taking up a position. A missionary position, and the only position he could ever abide .

"Are you the new administrator?" he asked in a tone that suggested friendly intentions, yet masked a veneer of menace and confrontation.

"I am," I replied.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," I said, and put down the Raymond Chandler novel I had been perusing.

All kidding aside, the gist of what he wanted from me was this: a children's picture book had met with his disapproval, and he wanted to make sure that I knew of his taking exception to its portrayal of a "deviant lifestyle."

The book was (and still is) And Tango Makes Three, a charming picture book that has, according to the American Library Association, become the most challenged book of 2006. Whoo-hoo! We hit the big time!

And what could this book be about, I wondered, my mind racing with the sorts of images one conjures up when confronted by the words "deviant lifestyle." Does it have full frontal? Full sideal? Is it naughty?

Actually, it's none of the above. Here's the Wikipedia entry:

And Tango Makes Three is a children's book written by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson and illustrated by Henry Cole, based on the true story of Roy and Silo, two male penguins in New York's Central Park Zoo, who, for a time, formed a couple. The book follows part of this time in the penguin's lives. This book teaches children that it's okay to be in or know someone who has an alternative family, not the "traditional" family.

The pair were observed trying to hatch a rock that resembled an egg. When zookeepers realized that Roy and Silo were both male, it occurred to them to give them the second egg of a mixed-sex penguin couple, a couple which had previously been unable to successfully hatch two eggs at once. Roy and Silo hatched and raised the healthy young chick, a female named "Tango" by keepers, together as a family.

Now, you tell me, isn't that the most adorable thing you've ever heard?

After the gentleman told me of his feelings in this matter - and he was a gentleman, despite our difference of opinion: I've just been having a little fun here - I patiently explained that, as a librarian, I hold to the basic tenets of freedom of speech, freedom of expression, and freedom of information (you know, all those things that, for some reason, really piss some people off). I informed him that, if he cared to make a formal complaint, he would need to make his views known in writing, and that I could then take the matter to the Library Board for serious discussion. Much to my disappointment, he refused, saying that he just wanted to make sure I was aware of his feelings. I thanked him, he left, and that was that.

Now, I know, just from watching Bill O'Reilly for ten minutes (I vomited up the remains of a particularly sticky meal shortly thereafter), that there exist certain persons for whom the very concept of personal beliefs beyond the narrow confines of their own warped perceptions is met with deep loathing and often violent convulsions. I cannot claim to be any different; there are many books on my shelves that I would gladly remove based on my own personal tastes and beliefs. But the difference between us is, I don't. I realize that there are many viewpoints, and we should celebrate them all, despite the difference of opinion.

For me, it all comes down to this: Would I rather be the right-wing fundamentalist lunatic Pat Robertson, and endeavour to stomp out, squash, and destroy any opposing viewpoints , or librarian extraordinaire Nancy Pearl, and believe that information should be available to all?

Tough choice.

"hominem unius libri timeo"— "I fear the man of a single book."

My new digs - the graphic representation

I haven't had a lot of time for posting as of late, and I apologize. I move in to a new apartment this weekend, and should have plenty of evening time to fully update my three fans on my doings.

However, I thought I'd quickly break into my busy day (budget, budget, budget!) to do a speedy post of this lovely pencil rendering of my new digs.

My heartfelt thanks to the gracious Adakagome Devode Chartrand for the honour of her talents. This now takes up a prominent place on my office door.

And if you look closely, you can see how jubilant I am at

a) having my name spelled correctly, and

b) my first book challenge (more later)!

March of the Librarians

Just wanted to share this little piece of Library comedy.

Public Reading Schedule

May 14, 2007
McNally Robinson Booksellers, Grant Park Mall
Winnipeg, MB
7:30 pm

June 9, 2007
Central Library
London, ON
1:00 pm

Statistical proof of your novel's bestseller possibilities

I absolutely love this.

Lulu.com, that Internet bastion of delusional self-publishers everywhere, has a feature where you can enter the title of any novel, and it will figure out the probability of it being a best-seller, based on the titles of past books. No longer will we have to suffer the indignity of having our novels rejected out of hand because of unappealing combinations of nouns, verbs, and prepositions.

Let me provide you with an example:

Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code = 10.2% chance of becoming a bestseller.

Corey Redekop's Shelf Monkey = 63.7% chance of becoming a bestseller.

Eat it, Brown, you hack!

Waste oodles of time with this here.

My new digs, part 2

Got a little extra time here in Thompson, so I thought I'd give you a little in-depth tour of my new locale.
This is the front lobby of the Thompson Public Library, soon to be renamed "The Corey Redekop Knowledgeum and Video Danceteria."

This is the children's area, heretofore to be known as "Corey Redekop's Punishment Centre for Children who Refuse to Learn how to SHUSH!"

This is Bruno, my ball of rubber bands and loyal companion for the past seven years.

This is my one and only rejection letter for Shelf Monkey.

These are my shelf monkeys.

And this is me, maxin' and relaxin', exalted emperor of all I survey.

4x4 by Wayne Tefs - a review

Travel as backdrop for human psychology is a traditional and fertile literary device. North Africa scoured the soul in Paul Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky. Alex Garland investigated Generation X angst through an island Eden in The Beach.

Now, Manitoba writer Wayne Tefs transforms a 1992 Jeep Cherokee on Highway 6 between Winnipeg and Thompson into a Pandora’s box of familial sorrow, trapping a mother and two sons in a suffocating blend of repressed anger and camouflaged guilt.

4x4, Tefs’ ninth novel, mixes a hazardous blizzard, strained relations, and close quarters into a dramatic powder-keg, with concealed skeletons the fuse. As Darryl Dokic quips, they are driving “in a snowstorm on the road to godforsaken Thompson. Lucky thing we don’t have to do this sober.”

As befits the title, 4x4 relates itself through four dissimilar narrators. Clint Dokic sells real-estate, sees angles in every conversation, and describes life as, “There’s them on the road to success and them dawdling along through the grass in the ditch.” Brother Darryl is an under-achiever who dreams of Australia, imagining the Outback as an escape from “the nonsense of industry and commerce and the once-a-week nod in the direction of God.”

Mother Meg in the back seat, meanwhile, is a survivor of a marriage reminiscent of Roddy Doyle’s The Woman Who Walked Into Doors. As the family challenge rising drifts and poor visibility, Clint’s wife Kaly, the fourth narrator, sits alone at the Burntwood in Thomson, pregnant, scared, and harbouring secrets of her own.

Tefs, winner of the Margaret Laurence Award for Fiction for his novel Moon Lake, has a spare, sharp style of writing, admirably capturing the inherent claustrophobia of a lengthy road trip. As the storm’s power and the Dokic’s anxieties begin to swell, the Jeep begins to loosely resemble a Manitoba adaptation of Jean-Paul Sartre’s play No Exit: “Hell is other people.”

The Dokics themselves are archetypes of a dysfunctional family, but Tefs never permits them to slip into unsympathetic stereotypes. As the present and past engagingly unfold from alternating viewpoints, all facets of the family are studied, engendering empathy that might otherwise be nonexistent.

Yet despite the undeniable strength of Tefs’ style and depth, elements exist that seem out of sync with the whole. For all its realism of tone and character, there exist too many mysteries and buried tragedies to be easily believed.

Each character hides some key that, if revealed, would destroy the others. While each is compelling, presented in muted, realistic hues, when put together they lend an awkward soap-opera-like facade that muffles the quality of the storyline, as if Tefs did not trust his characters to be interesting enough on their own.

Luckily, 4x4 is simply too good to be dismissed for overreaching. If the story at times stretches credulity, it is salvaged by Tefs’ honest humour and compassion. In 4x4, Tefs has fashioned an impressive tale of unflinching humanity and ultimate redemption, a road trip where “the destination only makes up half the journey.”

Originally published in the Winnipeg Free Press.

Shelf Monkey - the first scheduled reading

Just taking a moment from my busy day as library administrator for a dose of shameless self-promotion:

Monday, May 14, 2007
McNally Robinson Booksellers, Winnipeg, MB
7:30 pm

I'll be reading, and enthralling the crowds with both my dazzling wit, my insouciant smile, and overwhelming aroma.

Be there, or lose out on the opportunity to heckle a rather fragile author.