e-Librarianship

My first attempt at electronic booktalks, soon to appear on http://www.oremlibrary.org:


Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Things That Aren't as Scary, Maybe, Depending on How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures from the Sky, Parents Who Disappear in Peru, a Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn't Quite Finish, So Maybe You Could Help Us Out by Nick Hornby, Neil Gaiman, Jon Scieszka, Jonathan Safran Foer, and more, with an introduction & almost half a story by Lemony Snicket.

Warning: this book does not contain tedious stories. And just what are tedious stories, you ask? In his introduction to Noisy Outlaws, Lemony Snicket explains that tedious stories are "something you may have to read in school." The stories in this collection, on the other hand, are wacky, hilarious, adventurous, and above all, loads of fun. If you liked The Series of Unfortunate Events, Coraline, or The Stinky Cheese Man, this book is for you.


Inexcusable by Chris Lynch.

"The way it looks is not the way it is." Keir, a straight-A high school graduate on his way to college on a football scholarship, has been accused of something horrible: raping the girl he loves, Gigi Boudakian. In Inexcusable, Keir recounts the months leading up to this devastating moment in hopes of convincing you--and himself--that he is innocent. Chris Lynch writes a fascinating first-person narrative in this twist on the all-too-familiar story of teenage date rape.

Dark Sons by Nikki Grimes.

Am I replaceable? In Dark Sons, Nikki Grimes tells the parallel stories of Sam, whose father has married a white woman and started a new family with her, and Ishmael, who watches painfully as his half-brother Isaac replaces him in the eyes and heart of their father, Abraham. Grimes's poetic verse breathes life into the Biblical story of Ishmael as well as the modern story of Sam, as both boys struggle to find their new places in their families and with God.

Family

About two years ago, I wrote:

Yes, there is a sense of identification when I read E.M. Forster or listen to Elton John, but there’s always this nagging feeling that they wouldn’t really consider me one of them. I don’t think I’d fit in at a Village People concert any more than I do in elders quorum or on a basketball court. The fact of the matter is that I’m as distanced from gay men as I am from straight men.

I've mentioned here before that I no longer feel so distanced from straight men, and I'm happy to report now that lately I'm not feeling so distanced from gay men either. See, a couple years ago I didn't really know any gay people except for the few I'd met in group therapy sessions and Evergreen conferences, and (a) I'd never identified with any of them because we had nothing in common except attraction to men; (b) those had been brief acquaintances in artificial circumstances; and (c) the people who run those groups had discouraged us from getting to know one another outside the group setting because inevitably if gay men hang out together they're going to have sex. You know, because we're all just uncontrollable hormone dogs.

In the last year or so, however, I've gotten to know (to varying degrees) several gay men--some online and some in real life. Two of the real life gay friends I've made are a couple who live in Salt Lake, who shall henceforth be known as Harty and the Decorator*. Harty loves to read, which is sort of a pre-requisite to be my friend, and Dec has a dry wit that equally qualifies him. What I'm trying to say is that we have more in common than just being gay. Besides being pleasant people, Harty and Dec are more or less in the same stage of life as Foxy and I--they're a few years older than us and Dec has kids a few years older than S-Boogie, but the two of them have been together for a little over a year now, which puts them in the "young couple" stage of life. At any rate, Foxy and I have enjoyed hanging out with them several times over the last couple of months.

Harty invited me not too long ago to join FHEfamily, which is a group of people who meet every other week at the University of Utah to discuss issues related to gay Mormondom. The group is unique, I think, in that it comprises a wide spectrum of gay Mormons--there are a few on the Evergreen side of things who intend to either live a life of celibacy or marry heterosexually, there are some on the Affirmation side who maintain faith in the Mormon church while embracing their gay identity, there are others who have completely abandoned Mormon beliefs and consider themselves Mormon only culturally, and there are all sorts of others who don't fit into any of those categories. I enjoy FHE because it gives me a chance to exercise the political activist in me and educate myself more about things like Senator Buttars' anti-GSA bill so that I actually know what I'm talking about when I get on my gay political soapbox.

Last night after FHE I went to IHOP with Harty, Dec, and a bunch of other people from the group. I'd like to say that I felt completely at home and comfortable, but the truth is that I rarely if ever feel completely at home and comfortable in groups of more than three people who are not Fob. Or even in groups of fewer than three people who are not Fob. I'm just not a socially adept sort of fellow. So last night I was thrilled to hang out with Harty and Dec and the other guy I already knew, and I also enjoyed getting to know a couple of the others, but there were also guys in the group who I would probably never hang out with otherwise because we have nothing in common. I also felt a little bit like a closet heterosexual because I didn't introduce myself as "Hi, I'm Master Fob and I'm married to a woman" and I'm sure everyone assumed I was either single or with the guy I was sitting next to and it was just one of those things that didn't matter enough to make an announcement but at the same time I felt secretly different from everyone else because of it. I'm not making sense here.

The point is (you'll notice I often feel the need to explicitly state my point), just like straight men, gay men are people. People are people. I get along with some more than others. I feel accepted by some more than others. It is silly to spend my life making assumptions about what people think of me because of their gender or sexual orientation or life choices or whatever.

One of the things I've learned from my new gay friends is the term Family. The reason the group is called FHEfamily is because Family is gay code for "gay." Maybe you already knew this, because apparently it's common knowledge, but I'm still learning my queer lingo. One gay friend of mine recently remarked to another that he doesn't like the term Family because he doesn't feel any familial connection to gay people. I, personally, prefer another friend's definition of family: "Family is who you love." By that definition, some of my family is gay, some are straight, some are bi, some are guys, some are gyns, some are old, some are young, yadda yadda yadda. This conclusion seems rather trite and obvious now that I say it, but the reason I say it is because, even though I probably could have said it a couple years ago, I'm only now beginning to learn it. Forgive me for being a slow learner.

*Apologies to Harty and Dec for the horrible blogonyms. I tried.

Gyn 2006

There is a gaping hole in the English language, and I am here to fill it. Observe the following:

Man/Woman
Guy/
Boy/Girl

Did you see the hole? See, when you want to refer to a male who is older than you, you call him a man. When you refer to a male who is younger than you, you call him a boy. When you refer informally to a male peer, you call him a guy. Females, on the other hand, can only be placed above you (woman) or below you (girl). Yes, there's "gal," which I in fact used as the female equivalent of "guy" in my post yesterday, but that was only because I hadn't yet written this post. The fact is, "gal" is simply a lazy "girl," and therefore not appropriate when referring to an adult. I, personally, would be offended if you called me a gal.

I hereby propose the solution:

Gyn (pronounced "jin")

I invite you to join me in the revolution by using "gyn" in your everyday speech. Whenever you would say "guy" but you're talking about a female, say "gyn." For example:

• "I met this gyn the other day, and wow, she had the most amazing biceps."
• "And then these two gyns walked in and the first gyn said to the second, 'Dudette, did you just fart?'"
• "Hey, you gyns, stop picking your noses and get over here!"

Show your love for equality, the English language, and me by using "gyn" in your next blog post. Thank you.

This Public Service Announcement has been brought to you by the Foundation for a Better Gyn. We are unrelated to the Foundation for Better Gin, the Foundation for Better Jinn, the Foundation for Better Gyms, and the Foundation for Better Gynecology.

Democratic Religion

We'll call this my svithe for the week.

Today a visiting high councillor spoke in our ward about how we should be grateful that we don't have to make decisions for ourselves because we have prophets to make them for us, and how we are unfaithful if we do not obey every single word of advice given to us by a prophet, area authority, stake president, bishop, or home teacher, to the letter. Really, I am not making this up or exagerrating. That's what he said. I was happy to be distracted by S-Boogie's new markers.

Believe it or not, this post is not about everything that I think is wrong with the Mormon church. Actually, this post is about one of the things I like about the Mormon church: its democratic approach to religion. Now, you may be saying, "Hey, wait, isn't the Mormon church governed by a patriarchal hierarchy?" and you're right, it is, and the emphasis a lot of Mormons put on that hierarchy bothers me. However, the church--and even its hierarchy--is built around the idea that any and every person can receive personal revelation from God, and therefore nobody is more of an authority on theology than anyone else. People serve in positions of authority, but not because they're any more important or knowledgeable than anyone else; in the Mormon paradigm, God calls you one day to be a bishop and the next to be a janitor. It is assumed, therefore, that any individual with access to the scriptures and, more importantly, the willingness to pray and listen to God, can be as much of a theologian as the next guy or gal. I've read that the church was even more democratic in the days of Joseph Smith, but I don't have any facts to back that claim up at the moment, and it's irrelevant anyway.

What does all this mean? It means that I have to sit through a talk by a guy who I think is an idiot. But it also means that Sister Smith down the row from me, who thinks that same guy is the best thing since buttered toast, gets the chance to hear his talk and be edified. And it also means that after that I can go to elders quorum and enjoy a lesson taught by a guy who I think is a genius, even if everyone else in the class thinks his stories about dating Dallin H. Oaks's daughter are a waste of time. It means that a bunch of imperfect people can get together and share our thoughts about God, with the assumption that we all have the right to have those thoughts.

I suspect there are other churches out there who take such a democratic approach to theology without requiring their adherents to subscribe to any set dogma (this is probably why so many ex-Mormons become Unitarians), but for now, while I'm still participating (albeit reservedly) in the Mormon church, I enjoy what democracy they have to offer. I'm grateful that God gave me a mind and that he expects me to use it to make decisions for myself, not to let others do so for me. And I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling this way.

Washington It Is

The University of Hawai'i regrets to inform me that I have not been accepted into their English PhD program. This makes the decision to go to Washington and be a librarian easier. When my bruised ego speaks up I slap him around a bit and remind him that a very intelligent friend of mine was rejected by nine PhD programs last year.

Recommended

Foxy J brought a letter to me at work this morning letting me know that the University of Washington School of Information has recommended me for admission to the Graduate School. I am happy.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

For the last few months, I've been reading blogs via Mozilla Thunderbird's RSS feed. It's nice that I know when a blog I read has been updated without having to check several times a day, but I've noticed two things: I follow comments less, because to comment requires opening the link to the post in my browser, and since I'm not checking blogs several times a day I don't notice if other people are commenting; and sometimes I confuse whose blog I'm reading because the posts are all in the same place and aren't distinguished by the different templates that grace the actual blogs. I was confused the other day, for example, when Absent-minded Secretary, who lives in Pleasant Grove, Utah, had gone to California for a church meeting; then yesterday it threw me for a loop to learn that Mandi, who I had no idea was a poet, announced that she would be doing a reading at BYU; what really got me was this morning when Foxy J blogged about losing the power cord to her laptop, as she had not previously informed me that she had lost the cord, nor, for that matter, that we had a laptop. On the other hand, it's always amusing to hear from Th. about how things are going with his new husband, King Zippergut.