Can a Library Throw Out Books It Doesn't Like?

Shalzed heads to Llano, Texas, where a court just ruled on whether the local library can purge books

Several years ago a library in Llano, Texas, removed seventeen books, about half of them children’s, because it considered them harmful or offensive. Some community members sued, saying the library was restricting their freedom to receive information based on library board members’ opinions. A district court ordered the library to put the books back, but then last week a full panel of circuit court judges ruled 10-7 that the library can in fact remove them. Shalzed heads to Texas to find out why.

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At the entrance to the Llano public library, right next to the drinking fountain, I noticed a large bulletin board. A flyer that said ‘Report all burns!’ in big red letters caught my eye. At first I assumed it meant book burnings, and I considered a flyer encouraging people to burn books a bit brazen for a library in the midst of a lawsuit about censorship. Then I saw the picture of Smokey the Bear and realized the flyer was about forest fires.

Some seniors were sitting in comfortable, padded chairs leafing through newspapers, and a few moms and one dad were in the children’s area with their little ones. A middle aged woman wearing a shirt with the Llano County logo was sitting at the circulation desk thumbing through a magazine, so I walked straight up.

“I’m looking for Freddy the Farting Snowman, I forgot who wrote it,” I said. A couple of the moms glanced in my direction.

The librarian sighed. “That book is no longer available,” she said.

“I’m also looking for My Butt is So Noisy and I broke My Butt,” I told her. One of the elderly women put down her newspaper and stared at me.

“Well, if you want to screw up your children, you’ll have to do it on your own,” the librarian replied, wagging her finger at me. “You can always try Amazon.”

I scratched my chin like I was getting an idea. “Maybe you’re right,” I told her. “I’m sure the Llano County library board knows how to raise my children much better than I ever could. Why does anyone even try to think for themselves anymore, when we could just put the library board in charge of everything?”

“It’s not about thinking,” she snapped, closing her magazine and slapping her hand down on the cover. “That was a lie from the outset. We didn’t remove those books because we disagree with the contents, we removed them because they are inappropriate for children.”

The woman that had put down her newspaper shuffled over, stopping right next to me and leaning on her walker. “I don’t know who this funny-looking man is,” she said to the librarian, “but personally I love Isabel Wilkerson. The only reason you want to get rid of her book is because it’s about racism in American and telling the truth about race disagrees with you Republicans.”

I tugged to even my cape and then made sure all my shirt buttons were fastened. I realized that in a small town like this probably no one would know me, but saying I looked funny? It hurt my feelings, at least a little bit.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s our job as librarians to decide what belongs in the collection,” the librarian responded.

“Well this is American, where people have rights!” the elderly woman said back, raising her voice.

“There you go Rose,” a grey haired man called from the chair next to where she had been sitting. “You tell her!”

The woman was right. U.S. courts recognize that free speech means that the government cannot censor or prevent citizens from receiving information, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights also says that everyone has the right to freely receive information and ideas.

The librarian waived her hand. “Well maybe you rich retired folks should pay more in taxes so we can buy every single book that anyone says they want to read. But otherwise someone is going to have to keep deciding what tiny number of books we can purchase for our shelves, and that’s the job of the library board. If you don’t like it, vote ‘em out in the next election.”

“We’re not talking about which books to buy,” I said calmly. “We’re talking about throwing out books the library already has. I don’t think throwing books in the garbage saves money.”

“Who are you?” the elderly woman asked, turning to me. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” She stared at the ‘S’ on my shirt, and I very much hoped she wouldn’t confuse me with Superman. I can’t stand it when people do that.

I smiled and extended my hand. “My name is Shalzed, I’m from out of town,” I told her. I usually try not to be more specific.

She squeezed a few of my fingers as she moved her arm up and down. “So what makes you think you can take out a book?”

She had me there. I lack one of those glorious cards that bestow the privilege of borrowing items from the Llano County library.

“So you came here from out of town just to make trouble?” the librarian asked me.

I put my hands on my hips. “I’d think dismissing everyone on the committee that decides on books and replacing them with a group of Conservative Christians, then them throwing away all the books a Congressman decided to target, would be making trouble,” I told her.

“And I’d call it making sure the library faithfully serves our community,” she replied. “If in your town you want kids reading about a five year old boy deciding to be a girl, go ahead.”

I remembered another flyer I had seen on the bulletin board at the entrance. “What about the LGBTQ+ support group?” I asked. “Are you going to take down the flyer about their meetings too?”

The woman who had asked where I was from picked one corner of her walker up a few inches and slammed it back down. “My granddaughter goes to that,” she said, fixing the librarian with a mean stare. “And I’m proud of her for it. Don’t you mess with them, that’s crossing a line.”

“You better listen to Rose,” the man seated back where she had been reading the paper chimed in.

The librarian smiled. “Well, you’ll be happy to know the bulletin board is open to all residents of Llano County,” she said. Then she turned to me. “Anyone with a library card or local ID, that is, can post a notice.”

“Not you,” the elderly woman said, pointing a finger right at my stomach.

“So it’s only books about being LGBT you get rid of. LGBT people themselves are welcome?” I asked the librarian.

“Of course,” she said. “Everyone is welcome to use the library, and the bulletin board is a public forum that’s open to everyone. But what books are on the shelves is up to the library board that’s appointed by the county. Only they decide.”

A mom holding a sulking toddler by the hand pushed around me and plopped a book called Berenstein Bears say Their Prayers onto the counter.

“I sure don’t want Lizzie here seeing books about peoples butts on the children’s shelves,” the mother said to the librarian, but glancing at me.

I was about to say something when the little girl started to cry. “Mommy, my butt hurts,” she whined.

Both the mom and the librarian laughed, and I even couldn’t help but chuckle. “We’ll be home in a few minutes,” the mom said as she gave the girl a hug.

“Bridge club starting,” the elderly man called. Rose turned her walker and started heading away.

I turned and went back past the bulletin board and out of the building, pondering the irony that this case involved seventeen books being discarded by the library and had been decided by a panel of exactly seventeen judges. That must just be a coincidence, I figured, since now it was headed to the Supreme Court and they only have nine.

Out by the street I pondered what to do next. I didn’t think there were any attractions in Llano I wanted to see. I would have liked to take out a book to read under a tree at the nearby park, but of course I didn’t have a library card.

“People have the right not to be exposed to all that filth and garbage,” the mom said to me as she strode by, toddler grasping her left pinky finger in tow. “Do you expect the library to have books saying the Earth is flat too?”

She opened the rear door of an old Chevy Cruze and put the little girl in her car seat, then quickly got in the front. I do think people would benefit from a little more exposure. With social media serving us only what we already like, it would be good for people to encounter a wide variety of books in the library. But even back when I was using my superpowers, when I could bust open locked doors and find the openings to secret passages, making people more open-minded was still beyond me.

Questions:

1. The librarian told Shalzed that children’s books were not removed because of disagreement with the contents, but rather because the book was considered inappropriate for minors. But is there a difference? (This is discussed in the majority opinion starting on page 20, then again on page 24 with regard to overturning Campbell. The minority addresses this on page 32 of their opinion, page 92 of the overall document).

2. Shalzed says there should be a difference between a library deciding not to buy a book and throwing out a book it already has in its collection. But is this distinction sustainable? (This is discussed in the majority opinion on p. 19-20, and discussed extensively by Judge Ho in section two of his concurrence (p. 58 of the document). It is also covered in the minority opinion on page 31 (page 91 of the overall document.)

3. Is it possible for the courts to intervene in library decisions, hearing lawsuits whenever a citizen alleges that a library official is using their authority over adding and removing books in ways that are biased by their own viewpoint? Or is the scope of this issue, considering the number of libraries and number of books they acquire and remove, simply beyond what courts can do?