First Amendment | Seattle Book Mama

Lula Dean is a deeply unhappy woman. Neglected by her children, alone and unappreciated, she strikes on a way to gain the attention she knows that she deserves. She embarks on a crusade to remove books she deems objectionable from local libraries, and she sets a sterling example for her town by erecting a little library on her lawn, a collection of the wholesome material she thinks is most appropriate. Little does she know that one of the town’s youths has snuck out in the dead of night and inserted banned books inside the dust jackets of the books she originally placed there. Her library becomes wildly popular, and Lula hasn’t a clue why.

My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The moment I saw the synopsis for this novel, I knew I had to read it. The First Amendment is a hot button for many people in the U.S., and as a language arts teacher, it’s been at forefront of my mind for most of my adult life. And I think I can safely say that Lula Dean is a soft sell; readers are generally a receptive audience, and so any novel containing the word “book” or “library” in its title should, I would argue, be held to a slightly higher standard. It’s not that hard to preach to the choir.

I love the premise of this story, and I laugh out loud more than once at the beginning. After that, though, things flatten out a bit. There are a lot of characters here, and whereas I have no difficulty keeping them straight, their numbers may have prevented author Kirsten Miller from fully developing them. I feel as if I am reading, for the most part, about cartoon cutouts rather than real people; had I felt as if the characters were real, I would have been more deeply invested in their outcomes. However, everyone in this thing is either a fine, enlightened character or a despicable, ignorant blowhard. It accurately represents the way many Americans regard those around them, blue versus red, and that is not helpful. Two characters that stand out better than others are side character Beverly Underwood, and the young Elijah. However, even these are not dynamic characters. Nearly everyone here is the same going out as they were coming in.

Those looking for a short, funny novel to toss in their suitcase over the holidays could do worse; they could also do better. The sad thing is that had this been written in a more intentional way, with the literary standards one would hope to see in any novel, it could have been impressive, might even have changed a few hearts. This book isn’t going to do that, and so I see it as an opportunity squandered.

If ever a clarion call were needed in defense of the First Amendment in general and libraries in particular, that time would be now. Amanda Jones is an educator in a small Louisiana town, where she has lived all of her life. When a censorship battle presented itself, primarily at the behest of organized outsiders with an agenda, she turned up and spoke in a public meeting; in doing so, she unwittingly entered the most chilling chamber of horrors one might imagine.

My thanks go to Bloomsbury and Net Galley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Amanda describes herself as a committed Christian and a political moderate; she blushingly confesses to have voted for Trump in 2016. How could a Southern Baptist teacher and librarian suddenly find herself at the heart of a maelstrom, being referred to online as a pedophile, a groomer, and a member of the “woke” left? In a place in which outsiders hold less credibility than those with longstanding roots, how could so many native residents be convinced that pornography is being peddled to children by one of their own? Of course, the only way to create such an atmosphere is through fear and convincing lies.

“Book censors will often say there are books containing pornographic, or sexually explicit, material in children’s sections of the library to rile up public fear. They decry the need to protect children from the evil smut they say is next to Dr. Seuss books. As if a kid could be looking for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and whoops, there’s The Joy of Sex or The Kama Sutra right next to it. That’s never the case. Libraries have collection development policies for ordering books, and appropriate books are placed in the appropriate section. Public libraries do not purchase pornography. Adult books are not in the library’s children section, and to suggest otherwise is ridiculous.”

The American Library Association has guidelines for challenging books. This is essentially what Amanda tells those in attendance at the meeting called by book burners that evening. She is one of more than twenty other locals that show up for the same purpose.

What occurs at this meeting turns out to be a formula frequently used by the extreme right. A page of alarming material is blown up on a big screen for attendees to see. The presenter explains that this very book was found in an area easily accessed by children, right here in the public library in Livingston Parish. It’s a lie. The book isn’t there at all. But most people are decent and tell the truth most of the time; it doesn’t occur to audience members that this is a complete fabrication.

Why Amanda was chosen by these sinister visitors to be the sacrificial lamb is anyone’s guess. Perhaps she is more persuasive than others, or better organized in her remarks. Who knows? By the following day, social media has blown up with vile, horrifying accusations against her. Worst of all, there are people that she has known all of her life and considered friends, that add approving reactions to these poisonous lies. People she always believed would stand up for her, disappear instead, or join the opposition. Her family, her closest friends, and her fellow librarians across the country are the core of her defense, which eventually finds its way into the courtroom. Fellow educators at work? Not so much.

Although this takes place in the deep South, Amanda points out that these challenges are taking place across the country, with the ultimate goal of defunding public libraries. She mentioned a challenge in my hometown, Seattle, Washington, and I gasped. And so, this is an issue that must be monitored, and libraries and free speech defended, by all liberty loving readers everywhere.

The first half of the book is beautifully organized and compelling. I believe my jaw dropped when she wrote of sleeping with a shotgun under her bed, and checking for bombs or tracking devices on the undercarriage of her car. Death threats? Oh honey. Yes. The second half is also good, but could probably use a bit of tightening up. However, were I in her shoes, I would no doubt ramble endlessly.

This would make a terrific movie, and if well done, would certainly deliver the message to still more people.

I wholeheartedly recommend this memoir to all readers that support libraries and the First Amendment.