Tending to Johnny

Of the several hundred sessions, symposia, special interest and group meetings held at the International Reading Association's 49th annual convention in May, I could find only one that addressed boys and reading. The American Library Association's annual conference, in June, was no better, virtually ignoring the topic altogether. Apparently, the challenge of attempting to solve the paradox of boys' reading travails isn't a high priority among the reading and library communities. This despite "No Child Left Behind" (NCLB), which mandates that every child must be literate upon entering the fourth grade. If studies show that boys lag behind girls in reading ability, then we need to make a commitment to do what is necessary to close that gap.

The challenge of how to overcome boys' reading malaise and subsequent sagging reading levels is not new. Yet if we acknowledge that boys' and girls' brains are wired differently, as Michael Sullivan contends in this month's cover story ("Why Johnny Won't Read," pp. 36–39), then why aren't we making a more conscious effort to sort out this profound gender distinction?

Sullivan argues that, as a female-dominated profession, most educators simply don't respect boys' reading predilections. His comment that since "most [teachers and librarians] are women, guys' tastes don't appeal to them" is bound to raise the hackles of at least a few librarians dedicated to the reading and information needs of boys. Yet examining the evolution of a children's book from the time it is conceived, published, distributed, and then circulated in school and public libraries raises a compelling question: Where are the men?

Scour the rank-and-file of most children's publishers. Certainly there are a fair number of men writing and illustrating books for children and young adults. But men are a distinct minority on the editorial and marketing staffs of most children's book publishers, particularly the big New York houses. Combine the paucity of men in children's publishing with their scarcity in the library and teaching professions and the gender disparity becomes that much more evident.

Sullivan says boys like to read about yucky stuff and real things, and they prefer books that are often dismissed by women as being less literary and less significant. This lack of respect for anything "not literary" is part of a much wider cultural phenomenon, as evidenced by the ensuing debate ignited by "Reading at Risk," a report released by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) in early July. The study's main finding is that Americans, aged 18 and up, are reading less literature.

While the NEA would have us believe that we are hurtling toward a cultural Armageddon, some social commentators, including Charles McGrath, former editor of the New York TimesBook Review, feel otherwise. In an op-ed piece published less than a week after the release of the NEA survey, McGrath questioned whether certain forms of nonfiction weren't justifiably sufficient and, in some cases, superior to some of the substandard literature now being published. He discounts the NEA's dire stance on the decline "in reading," citing the survey's neglect of newspapers, magazines, and the Internet—exactly the types of media that often attract boys.

Educators and children's book publishers need to do a better job of connecting the dots among NCLB, anemic literacy rates, and boys' poor reading achievement. Success in reading comprehension comes from successful reading engagement. The challenge of raising literacy rates in America is too steep for us not to engage boys with materials that genuinely excite them, regardless of the genre or medium.

Evan St. Lifer, Editor
estlifer@reedbusiness.com