The past week, Oct. 5-11, was Banned Books Week. This event, the offshoot of a book expo in 1982, celebrates the Freedom to Read. It does so, paradoxically, by recounting the many ways people try to remove or restrict access to books, movies, magazines, databases, exhibits, programs and virtually anything else a library provides. The point of the First Amendment, and the deep purpose of the public library, is based on a simple idea. We have the right to speak and the right to access the speech of others.
It used to be that these attempts to censor (by hiding or removing) ideas and books was just a small fraction of library use. Most of them were one-offs, usually parents upset that their children (often between the ages of 4-6 or 14-16) were growing up a little faster than the parents wanted them to.
But since about 2021, book challenges tend to be coordinated by a few recurrent groups and cluster around a pre-identified set of books. Most of those books feature LGBTQ+ or people of color.
The challengers are still a small subset of the populace. As recently as 2023, the Washington Post found that 1,000 attempts to ban books from school libraries across the nation were the work of just 11 people.
But today’s censorship attempts are more than a small group of alarmed and alarming residents frantically trying to suppress viewpoints they don’t share. Increasingly, the attempts come from elected officials. In over 30 states of the union, laws have been pitched, or passed, that not only criminalize books widely available commercially, but also criminalize the people who provide access to them.
Here on the Western Slope, there were many ways communities raised the issue of intellectual freedom last week. In Garfield County, we hosted the local debut of the documentary film “The Librarians,” about the surge of challenges in Texas, Florida and Louisiana. In Basalt, a panel of librarians from Pitkin County, Basalt and Garfield counties talked about their experiences. In Mesa County, I participated in a library foundation fundraiser — an interview with their library director. They’ve had some recent issues with county commissioner appointments on their library board, and a challenge to a local art piece.
But my favorite event was in Leadville. There, in a large community space, over 100 local residents came to hear young adult author Jason Reynolds. Among his works: “Coach,” “Ghost,” “Long Way Down,” “All American Boys” and even the definitive “Miles Morales: Spiderman.”
Reynolds talked about growing up as a Black boy in Washington, D.C. and how coming out to Leadville was both a big difference and a welcome surprise. He’s done a lot of author talks now (being a New York Times bestselling author will do that) and said that despite the difference in urban and rural environments, it isn’t hard to find common ground. His stories, he said, were about ordinary people living ordinary lives. He liked his life as a boy, and his books are laugh-out-loud funny.
Here’s what stays with me: In his many trips to all the rest of America that Reynolds didn’t know much about, he had always found people with their own interesting stories. What held his attention was not the gritty and angry plotlines of action movies, or the divisiveness of politics. It was the deep humor of real human life.
It turns out that several of his books have been challenged, and some have been banned. He said he didn’t feel in the least “honored” by that. But this simple interest in the lives around us is the very best explanation of the freedom to read, and why it is worthy of preservation.
You may have missed the celebrations. But it’s not too late. Read a banned book today. If only for the laughs.
It used to be that these attempts to censor (by hiding or removing) ideas and books was just a small fraction of library use. Most of them were one-offs, usually parents upset that their children (often between the ages of 4-6 or 14-16) were growing up a little faster than the parents wanted them to.
But since about 2021, book challenges tend to be coordinated by a few recurrent groups and cluster around a pre-identified set of books. Most of those books feature LGBTQ+ or people of color.
The challengers are still a small subset of the populace. As recently as 2023, the Washington Post found that 1,000 attempts to ban books from school libraries across the nation were the work of just 11 people.
But today’s censorship attempts are more than a small group of alarmed and alarming residents frantically trying to suppress viewpoints they don’t share. Increasingly, the attempts come from elected officials. In over 30 states of the union, laws have been pitched, or passed, that not only criminalize books widely available commercially, but also criminalize the people who provide access to them.
Here on the Western Slope, there were many ways communities raised the issue of intellectual freedom last week. In Garfield County, we hosted the local debut of the documentary film “The Librarians,” about the surge of challenges in Texas, Florida and Louisiana. In Basalt, a panel of librarians from Pitkin County, Basalt and Garfield counties talked about their experiences. In Mesa County, I participated in a library foundation fundraiser — an interview with their library director. They’ve had some recent issues with county commissioner appointments on their library board, and a challenge to a local art piece.
But my favorite event was in Leadville. There, in a large community space, over 100 local residents came to hear young adult author Jason Reynolds. Among his works: “Coach,” “Ghost,” “Long Way Down,” “All American Boys” and even the definitive “Miles Morales: Spiderman.”
Reynolds talked about growing up as a Black boy in Washington, D.C. and how coming out to Leadville was both a big difference and a welcome surprise. He’s done a lot of author talks now (being a New York Times bestselling author will do that) and said that despite the difference in urban and rural environments, it isn’t hard to find common ground. His stories, he said, were about ordinary people living ordinary lives. He liked his life as a boy, and his books are laugh-out-loud funny.
Here’s what stays with me: In his many trips to all the rest of America that Reynolds didn’t know much about, he had always found people with their own interesting stories. What held his attention was not the gritty and angry plotlines of action movies, or the divisiveness of politics. It was the deep humor of real human life.
It turns out that several of his books have been challenged, and some have been banned. He said he didn’t feel in the least “honored” by that. But this simple interest in the lives around us is the very best explanation of the freedom to read, and why it is worthy of preservation.
You may have missed the celebrations. But it’s not too late. Read a banned book today. If only for the laughs.
[This column originally appeared online in the Sopris Sun on October 15, 2025]
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