TRASH IN PUBLIC LIBRARIES.

Evening Star, Issue 19666, 20 September 1927, Page 6

TRASH IN PUBLIC LIBRARIES.

We take it that every public library exercises some degree of choice and even censorship with regard to tho works of fiction which go on its shelves. Their sheer number at least makes it impossible to add every new book that appears. Their poor quality probably bans some more. Saturation in sex rules out a further section. After that the task of censorship admittedly becomes a difficult one, and many library committees probably go no further than a process of balancing what- one class of reader demands against what another class objects to, of tho just good enough and tho not too bad. Stricter censorships, such ns aro presumed to have happened in Sunday school libraries and some others, offer curious results in what is found to bo left in after tho garbage has been excluded. Yet the question must at times arise in the minds of those who believe that public libraries have a distinct place in any scheme of adult education: Should not a closer supervision bo made over tho novels on which tho public money is spent, or, even whore subscribers’ money alone is at stake, could not a definite standard bo maintained in tho interests of the community?

The question is, of course, a delicate one. It is handled i® a very interesting and masterly way in the current number of tho ‘ Hibbert Journal’ by Mr Ernest A. Baker. Mr Baker is at present director of the School of Librarianship in connection with the University of London, and speaks from many years’ experience ol public libraries in various parts of Great Britain. Contending that many of these were “jeopardising the prestige and influence of an institution that might exert untold powers for good in tho life of tho nation.” ho sent out a questionnaire, the answers to which received by him confirm him in this view. He does not ask for nor does he intend to take any action in the matter, except to give publicity to the facts that he has ascertained. Some day when separate libraries are organised into something like a system facts may have to be faced. In the meantime there are the facts. His method was as follows:—Libraries were asked to say whether they admitted the works of a selected list of authors, and, if so, which 9,'orks and how many copies of each. The list may cause some surprise. It comprises Ruby Ayres, Edgar Rico Burroughs, Victoria Cross, Hall Caine, Marie Corelli. Ethel M Dell. Gilbert Frankau, Charles Garvice, Edith M. Hull, Gertrude Wentworth - James, Robert Keable. William Le Queux, Geoffrey Mass, Margaret Re torso n, Gene Stratton Porter. “Rita,” CynthiJ Stockley, Edgar Wallace. Dolf Wyllard. He docs not put this forward as a black list. To quote his own words: “Writers of miscellaneous kinds, of different ability, style, and general appeal were purposely mixed up. A much blacker list could easily be compiled if that were the object. At the same time any discerning person will see at once that it comprises several authors of no literary significance whatever and several who have achieved the rank of best-sellers by unscrupulous pandering to the baser instincts of readers. Some aro there on account of one vilo book, some in spite of a single good one. Perhaps there is no writer on the list who is known at first hand to any considerable number of intelligent readers; and the intelligent reader may safely rest satisfied with a second-hand account.”

To be ready to give this Mr Baker actually performed the task of reading this “mob literature,” as he calls it —a type of book that lias always been in existence since Tudor times, and has always been forgotten in a very few years. It was not primarily the moral character of these authors’ works that was in question—though that cannot be ignored in making a choice of books for libraries. He says: “ Their most conspicuous quality is their silliness. Their reading of life is childish, though so very far from childlike. It does not tally with our actual experience. Tho sentiments expressed are often an affront to common sense. On the whole, the effect of reading such books on an adult mind is a stupefying sense of dullness. In short, they arc bad literature.” Pie further develops this point, and refers to the works of two authors on his list; and also speaks from the positive side. “Setting aside considerations of style, as some would think them academic, let us ask: ‘ Has a given novel any human interest? Does it evoke an intelligible and an intelligent view of life, and ono worth our attention? Does it help us to see tho world with clearer eyes, or show us some character or some phase of human existence that excites pity or fellow-feeling, or laughter or exaltation?’ If so,” he says, “ it has literary value, and will also have ethical value.” Such raises tho standard ot values, whereas tho other lowers it. His questionnaire (tho detailed results of which are tabulated) showed that there were in all about 6,500 separate works of the authors listed above in thirtythree representative libraries, and there were just under 20,000 copies of these in these libraries. H© contends that these statistics, collected from a number of the largest and most influential libraries in Great Britain, show that “ by purchasing of copies of this deleterious literature the public libraries are actually helping to support a trade that is a social evil. The production of worthless and mischievous novels is become a sheltered industry.”

This is a strong statement. Mr Baker has, needless to say, raised a very controversial matter. In his article, however, he answers the defence usually made for the inclusion of such books. It is commonly stated that compromise is desirable; that the bad but popular must be mixed with the good, so that the depraved reader may be trained out of his depravity. This he calls the “ground-bait theory.” He considers it thoroughly discredited by experience. He has found that the people who flock to a public library to read books which, in their crudeness, pervert standards of character and conduct, and in their total lack of literary merit, are on a par with the most objectionable product of the films, do not proceed to anything better as’ long as the supply is maintained. Rather, an ample supply of trashy literature corrupts the taste of those malleable persons who might have become intelligent readers had they met with wise and sympathetic treatment. If there are people who simply must have “their drugs, their opiates, their poisons, let them go elsewhere, and let us not waste public funds and prostitute a worthy institution by providing theui there.”- The other defence commonly put up is what

Mr Baker calls the “ tune and piper ” plea. It surrenders every claim to control by leaving the decision to the reader. The ratepayer is the owner of the library, and expects to have the sort of book he prefers. But ho does not consider the “ people who devour worthless and pernicious fiction ” are the owners of the library. It belongs to the community. And ho lays down tho standard that “ the individual ratepayer has no more right to dictate what a library authority . . . should provide for the public benefit than he has to dictate what shall bo taught in schools, what pictures shall bo purchased for public art galleries, or what objects for the British Museum.” He claims that 41 public library has too important a function to be thus swayed; its function is to provide sound literature, and no other. No reasonable person nowadays would dream of barring fiction or deny tho provision of light literature as Jong as it is literature. A library’s services are to supply information (to research students and others), to subserve education, and to provide for recreation. He makes a plea that this word bo taken in its basic meaning—that which revives, renews, and enhances vitality, not merely kills time, as do some pleasures; and ha works this idea out fully. Certain books, Mr Baker contends, do not recreate. but rather do harm. Ho is willing to compromise, but not with tho mischievous and the demoralising.

Admittedly to thrust culture down people’s throats is an absurd enterprise. You cannot exnect the man in tho street to enjoy the most refined literature, to recognise masterpieces at a glance. It is far more sensible to give him the second best, and trust that ho will ultimately come to understand and appreciate the best of all—but not to go further down the scale. Nor should we assume a “lower class of people” who must bo calmly pacified with “sham literature, bogus thought, merely sensational music, painting, and sculpture,” and branded “hopelessly inferior.” A library should work to raise the whole mass of humanity. Mr Baker concludes: “The public library is now a well-established institution, performing services of the highest social value. It can safely drop those popular devices which were once thought necessary for its existence. By trying to compete with the cinema and other rivals it merely lowers its dignity and seriously impairs its own usefulness.” But can we rise to this high standard?