2012 Newberry / Printz Award Winners Announced

Earlier today, the American Library Association officially announced the winners of the 2012 Newberry, Printz, and Caldecott Awards (among others). Here’s a brief summary:

John Newberry Medal
Dead End in Norvelt
By Jack Gantos

 

 

Michael L. Printz Award
Where Things Come Back
By John Corey Whaley

 

 

Randolph Caldecott Medal
A Ball for Daisy
Written and illustrated by Chris Raschka

 

 

Other Awards:

• The Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement in writing for young adults went to Susan Cooper (The Dark is Rising series–one of my favorites!)

• The Odyssey Award for best audiobook produced for children and/or young adults went to Rotters, written by Daniel Kruas and narrated by Kirby Heyborne.

• The William C. Morris Award for a debut book published by a first-time author writing for teens went to Where Things Come Back by John Corey Whaley.

For a complete list of the awards, winners, and honorees, please visit the ALA Web site.

Happy New Year 2012

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E-books: A Retrospective

Or, the speech I would make if I were a particularly eloquent and drunk CEO at my book company’s New Year’s Eve party

“In Bookland, people were reluctant, curious or passionate.”—Marie Lebert, A Short History of eBooks

“The only really necessary people in the publishing process now are the writer and reader. Everyone who stands between those two has both risk and opportunity.”—Russell Grandinetti, Amazon executive

Today is December 31, 2011. In less than twelve hours we will be ushering in the New Year, which contains within its two little words 365 days worth of hopes and dreams of all those moving about this earth. Only at this time of year does the future appear before us as an open vacuum of limitless possibilities; and we, excited points of light, eager to shine ourselves in every inch of its space. Nostalgic, we recount the successes and failures of the past, identifying and categorizing the highlights of the ending year so that as we move into the next chapter of our history we can carry with us, in bit-size nuggets of chewy goodness, the wisdom of our collective experiences.

I think, in particular, of the milestones reached and surpassed in the realm of digital books. No doubt you, like me, have mixed feelings on the subject. When Amazon announced last May that its e-book sales had exceeded not just the hardback sales of its print books, but also the paperback sales, were you not, like me, both thrilled and a little afraid? Or when the most popular e-readers dropped below the $100 benchmark barely three months ago, were you not, like me, both delighted and inexplicably troubled? We know that Bookland is changing. For better or worse, we are not yet sure. These are not, after all, the first waves of revolution to reach our shores. We have seen the implications of digital books already taking a toll on bookstores and libraries around the world. The closing of one of the largest chains of bookstores—for whatever the reasons—has shaken us to our very core. It has made us cast suspicion on those peddling their digital wares, and forced us take a long, hard look at the policies we are adopting regarding e-book use and distribution. We question ourselves; we ask, is change really necessary? Desirable? Inevitable?

In the midst of an uncertain future, it is easy for those in Bookland to forget that the ebook was not always this fearsome specter. In 1971, when Michael Hart sat down to type the first digital copy of the American Declaration of Independence, he believed he was repaying his university its $100,000 worth of computer time. This packet of digital information—easy transferrable across great distances, while costing little—contained within its code some of the greatest of human thought put ever put to words. He would later compare this digital book, which predated the advent of the Internet, to the invention of Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press. At last, he thought, the ability to make unending copies of books!

I can only imagine how thrilled he must have been to watch the expansion of the Internet and later the World Wide Web. Other people have extolled the virtues of a place to openly and rapidly exchange information, of the pivotal roles services like Twitter play in shaping the our real-world landscape. I merely wish to add that the rise of ebooks has played its part as well. Before, those visiting Bookland were billed for even the smallest of texts and public domain did not necessarily mean freely accessible. Certainly, there were libraries, which for no fee allowed its patrons to view its vast collection, even borrow some tomes for home perusal. But still these tomes had to travel—either to you or you to them. It was not, like it is now, that with a swift click of the cursor, you can have at your fingertips titles upon titles, both new and old. To have the ability to make a digital library as vast as the human imagination. To learn. To know. Copies of digital books can be spread with absurd ease and at no cost (or at least very little) cost. Those of us servicing these halls of knowledge rejoice. And despair. For, we fear, we are no longer indispensable.

Supporters have gathered around us. Hearing our worried whispers, they have picked up a battle cry, declaring that digital books are not “real books.” That they do not look like books or smell like books, and are therefore but devalued versions of the pages we so love. Supporters point to the proliferation of self-published books on the Net. What trash, they say; such monstrosities would never have graced a real page. They—we—forget that similar things were said about the novel, when it first came to life: that novels are not Art, like Poetry or Painting, worthy of contemplation. We also forget how damaging it is to draw lines in the sand; to point at those carrying e-readers and declare them “fools” or “traitors.” It is not foolish or traitorous to want to read, no matter the way or device.

I say these things not to criticize us and our supporters. As a group, we are wonderful, intelligent, brightly shining stars. But looking ahead into that limitless space, a new year where anything is possible, if only we can imagine it, I ask us to contemplate our future not with dread and loathing of the new, but with anticipation. We can carve for ourselves a unique place, somewhere between the digital and the physical.We are not, as we fear, obsolete. We are pioneers. We are molders and adapters. We need, at least for tonight, to remember that our love of books is not caught up in the feel or smell, but in something indistinct, indefinable that transcends them.

Thanks for listening.

Peace and Good Luck in the New Year