In Praise of the LA Times Book Review

The National Book Critics Circle has launched a Campaign to Save Book Reviewing. This post is part of the campaign's blog series, which features posts by concerned writers, op-eds, Q and As, and tips about how you can get involved to make sure those same owners and editors know that book sections and book culture matter.

I recently visited my old elementary school in Evanston, IL. I spoke to second and third graders about writing, including the writing I did in that very building, the series of stories about elves who lived in the drainpipe outside my apartment, the poem about wind, the fable about how the kangaroo got its pouch. As I sat on a small chair in a room where I used to sit as a small girl, I was flooded with memories. The waxy, lukewarm cartons of milk. The thick ropes we would climb in gym. The way my class would sit in a circle on the library floor and scratch each others' backs as the librarian read to us. And book reports. Beloved book reports.

I have been an avid reader since I was three. Books have always been central to my life. Many of my classmates groaned when we were assigned book reports, but I was always happy. Book reports gave me a chance to relive the book I had just enjoyed, to figure out what I appreciated about it. I loved when we had to read our book reports out loud in class, because I could learn what other kids were reading, see what titles sparked my interest. Through these book reports, I had a wider sense of possibility as a reader. I also learned how subjective taste could be—some of the kids in the class hated books I adored; others found nuances that I hadn't considered. I always felt energized, inspired, after book report day, ready to head to the library or ask my parents to buy me a specific title at Krochs and Brentanos.

Now as an adult, book reviews give me a similar window into the world of the word. They expose me to titles I might not have heard of otherwise. They give me a greater pool to swim in as a reader. They provide that same spark I felt as a child, that desire to race to the library or bookstore and grab a new title. It breaks my heart to see book reviews losing pages, column inches, editors, reviewers at an alarming rate. I worry about the fate of my beloved books. If newspapers are losing readers and then those remaining readers are losing vital information about books, how will the printed word continue to be part of our cultural dialog?

I've lived in Southern California for 21 years; the Los Angeles Times Review of Books has been my weekly touchstone here. I am not a very systematic person, but I have a specific Sunday ritual: I have to read the book section before any other section of the paper. It's very superstitious of me, almost a fetish. I imagine that if I don't read the book section first, the book gods will think I'm not taking my writing seriously and will find a way to smite me. Needless to say, I've invested the Los Angeles Times Review of Books with a lot of power.

It upset me greatly to hear that the book section was losing power within the structure of the L.A. Times. I knew the book gods would not be happy. I knew that readers besides myself would not be happy, either. Nor would other writers who worry about finding an audience.

Of course much of the conversation has shifted online. I love reading lit blogs, but I've found that the more time I spend reading online, the less time I spend reading books. With its endless links, online reading just seems to encourage more online reading. Something about reading book reviews on paper makes me want to reach out to books even more, feel their physical heft in my hands.

I have to admit: the new LA Times Review of Books does have its charms. I kind of like how you have to flip it over to read the Opinion section—it reminds me of a choose your own adventure story, or of coloring books I had as a child, where one half was pictures of, say, airplanes, and if you flipped it over, you could color flowers. The section is less diminished than I feared—it still has several pages of substantial reviews. I do miss the event listings, though (it was always a thrill to see my name there), and worried about Susan Salter Reynolds' Discoveries, those lovely succinct book reports (I was glad to see "Discoveries" back in yesterday's section). I miss having a distinct, separate section I could obsess about, a section where I could channel all my hopes and fears as both a writer and a reader. It doesn't feel the same now that the section is sharing real estate.

I do have hope for the future of reading, though. At my old elementary school, the students were so excited about books, so excited about their own writing, so excited to meet someone who has fashioned a life around words. As I was leaving, one little boy raised his hand for a high five, and when I returned it, he turned to his friend, his eyes bright, and said “I touched a real author!” May readers continue to be able to touch real authors through the books that carry the true lifeblood of our culture, and may our culture remember that we need coverage of books to keep that lifeblood circulating.--Gayle Brandeis