We've probably all been cornered by someone enthusiastically waving a new book in our face, excitedly asking, "Have you read this?!" Our gut tells us we should just nod and lie, but instead we hand over the truth about the poorly written, uninspired, yet strangely popular book. With a shrug of our shoulders, we mumble, "Eh . . . I skimmed it." Inevitably, we get the "you skimmed it?" look. The look that lets us know we have violated an unwritten rule of reading—readers read; they don't skim.

We may be guilty of the violation, but should we feel guilty?

My answer, as a proud and unabashed skimmer, is a resounding, no.

In How to Read a Book, Mortimer J. Adler outlined skimming as a method of reading through which we quickly and superficially glance over a text in order to glean important information. We then use that information to decide if we should continue with the text and move into more advanced, deeper levels of reading.

In today's technological environment of news feeds, blog feeds, feed readers, email updates, listservs, forums, message boards, life casting, twittering, and micro-blogging (to name just a few), this method of information screening through skimming has become invaluable. We often find ourselves inundated with information we could never realistically wholly digest, and much we probably needn't even taste. Skimming has given us a method through which we can quickly assess the mountain of information that makes its way into our various inboxes.

The most skilled skimmers can simply read a title/subject line, glance over the body of the text, read a few select lines, and make a solid judgment call as to whether the post/article/message warrants further reading. Without the well-developed skill of skimming, we would find ourselves unable to parcel out quality information and would instead be limited to what information arrived first, and how much of it we could actually read in a day. It is skimming that allows us to process the wide world of information and select the really important bits to read, assimilate, and conceptualize.

Now . . . lets get down to the nitty-gritty of skimming. After all, it isn't our skimming of blog posts and news articles that gets us the look; it's when we decide to give the skim treatment to an actual book . . . and worse yet, a popular or revered one. Skimming, for most of us, is a utilitarian tool; we use it when we need it, not as a practice. The fact is, we're busy people, and sometimes we just don't have the time to give a book the love and attention it deserves. Perhaps truer still, the new book du jour just doesn't interest us enough for a full reading. So rather than ditching the book altogether, we get a feel for it. We get the gist. We get the bare bones. We skim. Because . . . well . . . we like talking around the water cooler too.

On a professional note, a colleague of mine once had a wall hanging that read "Librarians who don't read should be sued for malpractice." I believe this. As a public librarian, it's my professional obligation to be well-read in in a wide range of genres and subjects. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time to read all the books I should in order to become and stay proficient. It is in my attempts to read through the influx of new and core titles that I turn to skimming. Skimming the descriptions and reading the dialog in fiction, and reading the table of contents and select chapters in nonfiction is the only way I'm able to read through the massive pile of books I should be reading in order to be an effective public librarian. Skimming gives me a way to quickly read books I should be reading and more time to read the books I want to read.

I'm not suggesting you should skim the 75 page training manual you have to give a presentation on next week or the newest book by an author you love. On the contrary, there are certainly some texts which will always warrant deep reading, but there is also a ton of text out there we just need to give a good solid taste; 'cause sometimes it's apple pie, and sometimes it's mud pie and it's nice to know which before we take a big ol' bite.

I hope you've enjoyed this post. Though chances are, you just skimmed it.

Posted by: Sarah Lovato

Oh reader's advisory...reader's advisory...reader's advisory, why must you torture me so?

I'm not alone though in my torture, for many librarians working a public service desk, especially in a children's or teen department, there is no reference question with the potential to cause as much frustration as a simple reader's advisory inquiry. Why is this true in a world where in a day a librarian may be asked to find the obituary for "this guy who is totally haunting my house...his name is Phil or Bill or Jill...I can't really tell...he mumbles"? Well because at least the ghost-whisperer at the desk has some idea of what he needs. The 11-year old who just wants "a good book," on the other hand, usually has no real concept of what he wants and in worse case scenarios, he just needs something for the book report due tomorrow.

Those of us trained in the art of the reference interview, dig eagerly in, asking a series of questions in order to gage the reading interests, or in some cases, general interests of the patron. Sometimes though, in the case of children and teens, the reference interview will fall flat. The young patron is never really able to articulate any useful information that may be used to recommend appropriate books. At its worst, a reference interview will conclude with the child having answered all the librarian's pointed questions with, "I dunno."

It's at this point that we pull out the standard "what was the last book you read that you liked?" If we're lucky, and if the reader's advisory Gods are smiling down on us, the answer will be a book with enough prominence to generate read-alike lists.

Read-alikes are a of group books that share enough common literary characteristics that someone who enjoys one book from the group may also enjoy other books from the same read a-like group. Usually read a-likes are structured along the lines of "If you like 'Book A,' you might also enjoy 'Book B,''' or "If you like 'Author A,' you might also like 'Author B.'"

Read a-like lists are extremely helpful for young patrons who may have a difficult time explaining what elements they might enjoy in a book. It's much easier for a child to simply realize they "want something like Harry Potter" rather than analyze what they liked about the books. After a book from the past is identified, the truly skilled reference interviewer will continue the questions, trying to narrow down specific elements of the novel the child enjoyed. Though not the end-all for reader's advisory, read a-likes are a quick and easy way to narrow down possible recommendations to a manageable list of books.

Getting back into the spirit of The Bunless Librarian, below are links to popular children's and teen read a-like lists.

Captain Underpants Series by Dav Pilkey
Annapolis Valley Regional Libraries
St.Charles Public Library
Dakota County Libraries
Weber County Library

Gary Paulsen
Charles County Public Library
Jervis Public Library
St. Charles Public Library
Stanly County Library

Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
American Library Association
Kansas City Public Library
Madison Public Library
Weber County Library

Junie B. Jones Series by Barbara Park
Ames Public Library
Bibliotheque Publique
Rockford Public Library
Weber County Library

Magic Tree House Series by Mary Pope Osborne
Barrington Area Library
Charles County Public Library
Montgomery County

Redwall Series by Brian Jacques
Burlington Public Library
Derry Public Library
Edmonton Public Library
Finger Lakes Public Library

Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket
Allen County Public Library
Strathcona County Library
Wayland Free Public Library
Weber County Library

Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer
Arapahoe Public Library
Farmingdale Public Library
Liverpool Public Library
Santa Clara County Library

I wouldn't want to give adults the shaft when it comes to the read-alike bounty so visit the Waterboro Public Library for a huge list of adult resources.

—Happy Reading

Posted by: Sarah Lovato

Like many librarians, I grew up with an affinity for books. I won't go revisionist and claim to have been a bookworm; I wasn't. I was, what we in the biz' call, a "reluctant reader;" few and far between were books that drew me in and kept my attention until the final page. Despite this, in my young adulthood, I was drawn to libraries as a place of retreat. Often, I would visit my school or public library just to stand and move among the books, my fingers reaching out to touch the spines as I tilted my head to read their titles. As I browsed, I was humbled by the the knowledge and passion reflected in each book's pages and in awe of the dedication and talent it took to write them. I would pull titles from the shelves and flip through them slowly, the familiar scent of book wafting to my eager nose. There was great visceral comfort and pleasure in sitting among the stacks, surrounded by a universe of intellectualism and literary art.

As I entered adulthood, an unexpected aptitude for literary criticism, and a resulting education in literature studies turned me into a bona fide reader. I then started visiting libraries in search of specific titles, my trips becoming more utilitarian. Still, the physical space of libraries held an alluring power over me. I often found myself ending a long day of errands with an unplanned trip to the library. I subconsciously sought the rejuvenating peace I still found wandering through crammed stacks.

When I decided to become a librarian, my deep-rooted connection to libraries as a place and my newfound love of literature where driving forces behind my decision. Though I had no way to know or anticipate it at the time, my choice to build my career among my beloved stacks would result in an unexpected loss of a sanctuary. No longer do I wander aimlessly among library shelves, content to meander and browse. I now walk with purpose, with a clipboard, with a spreadsheet, assessing, evaluating, and weeding. My retreat now transformed into a place of work, study, and to-do lists.

Early on in my career, I attempted to recapture those lost moments of solace by visiting my own local library. Surely there, among books I had no professional obligation to select, buy, and, maintain, I would find my way back to that lost feeling of instinctual harmony. Each trip, I entered the library hopeful. I walked to a Dewey range of interest and nostalgically tilted my head to read the titles. Still though, I only noticed torn dust jackets, weak bindings, and soiled pages. My tongue actually clucked as I stumbled onto holes in subject coverage. The overall grandeur of the stacks had been replaced by a wall of professionalism that drove me to evaluate, not enjoy. I had utterly lost the ability to lose myself in library patronage and instead found myself ever the sweater-vest-wearing librarian of my work days.

Bookstores too had held a certain attraction in my young adulthood, though not on the scale of libraries; the taint of commerce muddying the nobility of the purveyance literature and knowledge. This space of retreat too has been lost to me. My trips to both local and large chain bookstores have now become exercises in frustration. Too often, I am faced with new or obscure titles I long to read, but refuse to pay for. I'm a librarian after all and spend my days surrounded by free books; to pay seems a betrayal of my trade. So I leave, frustrated, empty-handed, though hopeful a local library will own the coveted $7.00 paperback. Still though, something has been lost.

It's at this point in the post, I should segue into a solution to my quandary or in the tradition The Bunless Librarian, provide a list of links to solutions. Unfortunately, this loss of sanctuary is a drawback of librarianship I still struggle with. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade in my profession to get back my moments of contented browsing, but I long to find a balance between the fulfillment of librarianship and the simple serenity of patronage.

So the question remains:

How does this librarian leave her profession at the door and allow herself to reconnect with the uncomplicated, joyful refuge of the stacks?

Posted by: Sarah Lovato

As my readers, skimmers, and mark-as-read-ers can attest, The Bunless Librarian has never been my confessional, but this change in venue has brought with it a change in attitude. In that spirit, I confess, I am completely and totally addicted to my Google Reader (GR).

I started like most addiction-free GR users (for the cool kids, Bloglines). I carved out 10-15 minutes of my morning routine for browsing my GR, which was full of fantastic librarian and library-related posts. I read, skimmed, and starred items between sips of coffee. My addiction began to rear its consumptive little head when I started subscribing to feeds mentioned by other bloggers. Soon my subscriptions grew uncontrollably and my new items routinely hit the dreaded 1000+. Still, I stuck to my 10-15 minute morning routine (OK, it grew to 20-25). Slowly though, each of the ebbs between the flow of my daily work became consumed by obsessive 5 minute (OK, 10 minute) GR power browsing, my days (and nights) becoming littered with compulsive GR checks in an attempt to keep my inbox empty.

What, you may ask, does any of this have to do with the decision to give a blog the boot? Well, the root of my addiction is my compulsive need to read, skim, or scroll through everything that graces my GR. My theory is, limit the supply and the compulsive consumption will stop. Basically, I need to do some serious unsubscribing; booting some blogs from my GR is the only way my ebbs will return to the sighs, yawns, and stretches nature intended.

Now I can’t just go into my subscriptions and hack away willy-nilly. I wouldn’t be a librarian if I wasn’t more systematic than that (’cause we’re a systematic bunch). I need a plan. I need to know…When should you give a blog the boot?

I know what you might be thinking, “doesn’t GR have ’trends’ for that?” Yes…Yes it does. GR, bless its big, corporate heart tries to toss a life preserver to those of us treading frantically in an ocean of subscriptions. GR Trends produces a list of “inactive” subscriptions that haven’t published items in over a month. Unfortunately, that particular life preserver is one of the old moldy ones that’s been in the boat too long and it’s waterlogged and kinda smells like fish. I mean really, some of the most insightful blogs post less than regularly and conversely, some of the most prolific blogs post lots of…well, they post a lot. GR Trends is helpful for spotting a defunct blog, but in this case, frequency isn’t the best way to judge quality.

So what is a librarian 2.0 to do when technology fails? We get back to our roots…good ol’ analog librarianship. As a librarian, much of my time is spent weeding library collections, ultimately deciding which materials stay and which get booted (to the book sale).

In the ’90s, the Texas State Library developed a weeding procedure known as the CREW Method. One of its most recognizable features is the acronym, MUSTIE, which outlines criteria for tossing library materials. Though some of the MUSTIE criteria could surely be applied to weeding blogs, I felt the new media of webblog deserved its own handy weeding acronym. Meet SCROLL.

S = Superseded

C = Content

R = Reliable

O = Overproductive

L = Link Clickage

L = Leprechauns

Superseded: Are there other blogs that cover the same topics, but are more interesting, entertaining, thought-provoking, or informative? If a blog is at the bottom of a subject pile, give it the boot.

Content: Does the blog present content that is of personal or professional interest? Is the content well written and presented? If you find yourself dreading having to read or even skim the blog’s uninspired posts, give it the boot.

Reliable: Can you count on the blog for consistently compelling, interesting, or useful content? Is the information the blog gives you reliable, factual, and credible? If you find you have to wade through piles of unreliable filler posts before getting to one of substance, give it the boot.

Overproductive: Does this blog regularly flood your inbox with an unmanageable amount of posts? If you have a blog that sends you way too many posts in a day, give it the boot.

Link Clickage: How often do you actually click on the links the blog provides? If you have a blog with links you are rarely inspired enough to click and explore, give it the boot.

Leprechauns: Does the blog have leprechauns? No, not literally, but if you opened a post and found a big ol’ leprechaun smiling and waving to you, you’d probably be pretty surprised. How often does the blog surprise you? How often does it make you sit up and take notice? If you have a blog that never has any leprechauns, give it the boot.

If you find you have a blog in your subscription list that fits at least one SCROLL boot criteria, chances are you are just quickly scrolling through the posts anyway, so go ahead and give that blog the boot.

At this point, I suppose I owe GR Trends an apology. Trends does provide “read” stats that can be helpful for figuring out which blogs are overproductive and suck up lots of scrolling time. Trends isn’t really an old, moldy life preserver. It’s more like one of those old-timey ones from the Titanic. It’ll probably keep you afloat, but you’re still not quite sure if it’s really more prop than preserver.

SCROLL is my attempt to cope with subscription overload leading to GR addiction, but how about you?

When do YOU think you should give a blog the boot?

Posted by: Sarah Lovato