The Story of Us: SLJ Celebrates 50 Years

School Library Journal and I started in library service at the same time. I read SLJ's first issue under its then title Junior Libraries during my first job as the most junior assistant in the children's department at New Haven (CT) Free Public Library—from cover-to-cover, back-to-front, book reviews first—the way I do now.

The contrast between that first issue's book review section and the one in this 50th anniversary issue is very satisfying, not just in terms of its size, but because SLJ's volunteer librarian reviewers are comfortable with short, critical reviews of new titles. Not so in 1954. Junior Libraries's book reviews were identical to others of that time—they were selective, laudatory, and prone to hinting at any deficiencies rather than making declarative sentences, as in "Young readers would have benefited more from this introduction to Ohio's topography if maps had been included." You had to learn to translate the various review tools available. And back then we did.

I remember my first staff Christmas party. It featured translations of reviewers' guarded expressions of disapproval: "Splashed with two colors, this oversize picture book will do well as an impulse purchase in bookstores." Translation: librarians beware—cheap, flashy, printed off-register, and hard to shelve.

Here's another: "The newest reprint of Who Killed Cock Robin is replete with illustrations muddier than those of the original edition." Translation: forget about it.

And another: "Superior readers will find the prize-winning author's flowing sentences and the misty evocation of palace life in medieval days rewarding." Translation: no prize. Wordy, moves at a crawl, about life as it was never lived. Spare your addicted readers.

Our children's book selection tools in 1954 were best described in a 1900 letter by the great librarian John Cotton Dana to the editor of the Massachusetts Springfield Republican denouncing the reviews in this country's literary magazines. Dana, credited as the first surveyor of reviewers, decried their work as a rising "chorus of praise" released in an "endless gush" and "lacking the courage of condemnation."

Librarians 50 years ago complained about the same kind of deficiencies in children's book reviews that appeared in newsletters, newspapers, general magazines, and library periodicals. These were too few, too late, and too powder-puff to be fully helpful to their book selection. In 1954, clear and reasoned recommendations against children's book purchases were so rare that they'd make hot news and get passed from librarian to librarian with a "Did you see this?"

SLJ's book review took timid steps in responding to complaints from subscribers. So timid, in fact, that a negative review was often followed by another review of the same title recommending a purchase. Subscribers were more confused and amused than satisfied.

The story of how SLJ exploded from 1,200 punch-pulling reviews in 1954 to more than 4,500 short, critical reviews for public and school librarians begs to be told in this anniversary issue.

My first assignment on July 6, 1966, my first day at work as executive editor of SLJ's book review and head of juvenile projects for then-owner R. R. Bowker Company, came in a welcoming session with Daniel Melcher, Bowker's president and SLJ's founding publisher. Before I'd found the way to my office, this kind but impatient man told me that I would have one year to come up with a creative mechanism to make SLJ's book review unique among the agencies reviewing new books for young readers.

SLJ's book review covered more new titles than the competition, but it was not held in high regard. Melcher was put out by a widely published survey about children's book reviewing issued that year that did not include SLJ. Furthermore, a new edition of a textbook on children's literature for student teachers and librarians had failed to recommend SLJ's reviews in its list of dependable book-selection aids.

"I want SLJ's reviews to be more than the most plentiful," Melcher said. "I want them mentioned first among the sources. I want them quoted regularly in publishers' ads. I want librarians using them and talking about them as useful. Study this and come up with what will make them unique. Report to me once a week on your progress."

My next stop that day was to the office of Eric Moon, chief editor of Library Journal as well as overseer of School Library Journal. I mentioned Melcher's assignment, hoping for some help and advice from stellar editor Moon. He shined a demon smile around his ever-present pipe, said, "Good," and wished me luck.

Over the next six months, I came to hate the word unique. Melcher pestered me for progress every week. I spent hours at the New York Public Library's periodicals department studying other agencies' reviews. I traveled to other cities about once a month and met with magazine and newspaper editors as well as public library and school district coordinators and their staffs hoping that unique would pop out from our discussions.

But what popped out were the similarities. The review editors complained that insufficient revenues from book publishers' advertising led to tight page budgets for their children's book reviews, leaving only room for the best among the new titles. Other magazines had volunteer librarian reviewers, listed advisory boards made up of prominent librarians, kept reviews to less than 300 words, and had book discussions and commentary on their editorial pages.

Librarians tended to complain about too much attention to fiction, too little critical analysis, and too few reviews. They complained about the continued rise of new books each year. The closest I got to unique was a librarian suggesting the reprint of an illustration from every new picture book without any review comment at all. Not a bad idea, but too incredibly expensive to contemplate, even if permission to reprint these were granted, which was highly unlikely.

Actually, I was having a swell time during my first six months. Then came a typically Dan Melcher day. He lived and worked on double time. I was called to a hallway meeting between him and Moon. My year was up. "Where are you on making SLJ's book review unique?"

There was nothing unique or even creative about saying "More reviews." But, I gave it a shot with a kicker and told these good businessmen that the only thing I could think of was to promise our library subscribers that SLJ would review all the new general trade books published for young readers each year because nobody else was doing it. There was dead silence for a moment. I began thinking of finding a new job.

Between the two of them, Melcher and Moon knew more about publishing, library service, and book reviewing than anybody you could find on any given day in New York City. I didn't have to explain the costs involved in this labor-intensive work or warn them about new hires for review editing, the need to recruit more volunteer reviewers, and to budget for an elastic rather than a fixed page count. Nor did I have to describe what would have to change about review content in moving from selectivity to full coverage of a growing number of books. I certainly didn't have to tell them that their time would be invaded by complaints from outraged publishers whose titles received clear advice against purchase.

At that point, the years of direct federal funding to school libraries were upon us. Children's book publishing wasn't just growing, it was exploding. Moon stopped puffing his pipe long enough to ask, "How many new titles do you see ahead?" I seriously underestimated with 2,500. Then Melcher said the magic word: "That would be unique." The next thing I remember from that dazing exchange of no more than 15 minutes is Moon telling me to get ready to make this announcement of extended review coverage for the next year ahead. They could easily have said, "No," or reneged on the promise at any point, but they didn't.

Subscriptions went up. This was surely not attributable to SLJ's book review alone, but as its executive editor I wasn't shy about claiming that the increase could be credited to our section of the magazine.

Our new approach to reviewing was not completely popular, however. Some of our volunteer librarian reviewers quit because they only wanted to write recommendations. Publishers and children's book editors did squawk to Melcher and Moon and threatened to withhold advertising. But subscribers didn't complain about having more. (They complained, then and now, about the content of reviews—as they should and do.)

Trevelyn Jones, SLJ's current book review editor, tells me that the annual children's book count continues to grow by leaps and bounds. SLJ's book review, now recognized as the dependable, indispensable aid to public and school library book selection for young readers that it has become, will grow along with it. Trev, her hardworking staff, and far-flung volunteer reviewers may occasionally cuss the day that the attempt to provide full coverage of the field was promised, but they keep to that promise responsibly.

I think Melcher and Moon deserve thanks for what they allowed SLJ's book review to become after its tentative beginnings in 1954. I know I'm grateful.