Book-banners give children credit for understanding worrisome stuff which hasn’t penetrated the kids’ comprehension. Lacking experience, a child glides over a mature passage, and enjoys the surrounding story.

Last Friday, June 27^th, the US Supreme Court decided that “books exert upon children a psychological ‘pressure to conform’ to their specific viewpoint.”

Wow.

Did the Supremes never read a book and think, “Gosh, I don’t agree”?

While Laties claims to reveal the perspectives of many people, all of them are connected to his own experiences.

I looked on Wikipedia. This tale of the Muslim burning of the Library has been attacked and debunked. For hundreds of years! I followed a link from the Wikipedia page and read a lengthy essay by the esteemed scholar of Islam, Bernard Lewis, attacking Luciano Canfora’s The Vanished Library on this specific point, in elaborate detail. Lewis says that the story is more than a myth—it is a libel against Islam.

My legal fate as the author is one thing. What I was thinking about while writing was, “Who’s gonna read this?” I hoped the answer was parents. The strong show of interest among librarians means the book may be acquired. What I can’t foresee is if the “trouble” my regular customer informs me is headed my way will instead be visited upon librarians who follow through and bring my book onto their shelves. Some of those parents who visit their libraries may enjoy my book; others will raise a ruckus about it, putting the librarians at risk.

My dad loved bookstores so much I took it for granted that much of the time we were together would involve hopping from bookstore to bookstore. The family joked that he was addicted to bookstores. This was way back in the twentieth century, before social media—even, mostly, before the 1991 invention of the World Wide Web. When I think back to those innumerable slow hours spent in bookstores with my dad, I realize there was a remarkable absence: no cellphone!

 I believe that one of the great things about a book is its fixed nature. Unlike a webpage, a book’s text is set and unchangeable. Its published form is stable and lots of different people can read it individually and then discuss their experiences with one another. The text has sailed away from the author.

Okay, if there’s one thing I learned from my highschool underground newspaper days, it’s that giving the paper away for FREE before anyone could stop us meant people would check it out. So, that’s what I’m doing now, with this book about book-banning. The formal publication date is July 1, but I have posted the book 100% viewable on Google Books. Check it out! (You have to click the “Preview This Book” button, once you arrive at the Google Books page.)

I’ve published five memoirs. In every one, I use direct quotation to recount conversations. Why is this okay? How can I guarantee that my friends and I really said those exact words?

 In my newest book, You’re Telling My Kids They Can’t Read This Book, I spend part of chapter three describing a series of 2016 panel discussions at Bank Street College; they were called “Who Are You To Say?” I directly quote Robie Harris, Cheryl Willis Hudson, Allie Jane Bruce, and Joan Bertin. How can I remember exactly what they said, nine years ago?