Graf-Borgen Enterprises

Part of Read it and Weed , where I take a quick look at books found on the shelves of the International School where I am librarian.  Hiding in the cupboards of grade 3, under stacks of Junie B Jones and A to Z mysteries, lay a book I wasn't expecting. At first I didn't think it was worth much at all. With its early 20th century illustration style and condescendingly twee title, Snugglepot and Cuddlepie looks like the prime macguffin of a horror movie involving children and abandoned libraries and hidden cemeteries. Something knocked together from the parts of other tales. But what I'd found was one of the foundational works from which all future twee descended.  Snugglepot & Cuddlepie is the work of May Gibbs , whose English family emigrated to Australia around 1900, when she was a child. Obviously enchanted by the new landscape, plants and animals, she fell back on the storyteller's instinct to make sense of the world around her. Thus she created a world of gumnut...

It's all to easy to pick up a book from the stacks and laugh. Look at this dorky cover, you say, with its vintage 00's artwork. Its cheesy earnestness. What you're really laughing at is the passage of time; what you're saying is your childhood crap is better than this childhood crap, which is nostalgia and right and the human condition. It's easy to forget the amount of craft that goes into even the hackiest of books (and I'm not saying this book is hack-work.)  Deltora Quest is one of an fifteen-part series by Australian Author Emily Rodda. It tells the story of two childhood friends, Endon and Jarred, one of whom goes on to become the King of Deltora. The other, Jerrod, is cast out of the castle after an act of betrayal. In the real world he discovers the truth is not what he had grown up believing. The King is but a pawn to evil forces who bleed the peasants of money and hope. The Belt of Deltora has been locked away, when the King should wear it at all times...

Back in the dark ages of middle grade fiction,  Lloyd Alexander made a living writing fantasy novels. He was popular enough that one of his books was optioned by Disney for the movie The Black Cauldron, which is another essay entirely. Westmark is a minor piece of fantasy, and to even call it fantasy is a stretch. There is no magic, or fairies; the setting isn’t even very remote past; Westmark is a late medieval kingdom whose king has fallen into despair over the death of his daughter. Control of the kingdom has passed into his counsellor, who has plotted to become king himself.  The main character is Theo, a printer’s apprentice, who takes on a job that leads to the death of his master. One the run, he teams up with a con man, a dwarf, and a girl with no memory of her past. (Those of you who remember the King’s daughter is dead should be hearing spoiler warnings about now.) Along the way Theo learns about freedom of the press, the morality of running cons, and how to restore ...

John Bellairs wrote gothic horror for young readers from 1972 until 1991. This meant he died one year before RL Stine’s first Goosebumps broke gothic horror down into camp and schmalz. He wrote it before Lemony Snicket drenched it in detached irony, before it was reborn as the Neflix series Wednesday. He wrote it before the modern era dictated stories feature character arcs, sympathetic backstories, and rigid adherence to outsider aesthetics.  All that crap aside, the question remains: Is it any good? Well, it's okay, sort of. The Spell of the Sorcerer's Skull is a shaggy dog of a story involving a stolen clock, a tiny skull, and a St. Anthony statue that gives oracular clues. Johnny, his best friend and a priest take a trip to a remote Maine island where it's revealed that family grudges from evil sorcerers are carried from beyond the grave. Note that you can understand all of this without knowing a thing about the main character, a blank slate known as Johnny Dixon, aroun...

Over 70 years ago a librarian in Brooklyn wrote a book about a little witch. It would be the only book she ever published, and it would go on to be beloved by many. It's a heartwarming tale of a little girl who doesn't want to be a witch, and that's a shame because her mother is the meanest witch in the neighborhood. All the little girl wants is to be part of the normative girls, so she sneaks off to school, and hijinks follow. In the end, though, the little girl meets her real mom (a fairy!) turns seven flowerpots back into children, and sees the old witch turned into an aardvark and sent off to the zoo. I'd say you can't make this stuff up, but Anna Elizabeth Barrett did exactly that! Verdict: I can't see any modern readers having any desire to read this book, but it's short and sometimes Halloween needs some fillers on the shelf, so I'll keep it for now.

  I work as a librarian in an international middle school. Our collection is large, and old. Many of the titles were donated by teachers who long left the building, probably happy that their ancient volumes had finally been discarded. As such, much of our collection is an archive of books kids probably aren’t interested in any more, and possibly never were. Here is a selection of books that I at first thought were worth discarding. Some were of course perfect for the discard pile. On further investigation, some of these are worthy museum pieces, windows into the mind and psyche of a bygone era. That doesn’t mean my students care to read them, of course. That’s why this is here. A swan song for books that are meant for the rubbish bin of history.