By Darrell James
This years event charity at Left Coast Crime Writer’s Conference was The Los Angeles Library Foundation. One of the most inspirational moments for me, came during the Saturday night banquet, when Penny Mickelbury, the Literacy Coordiator for the Library Foundation, gave a passionate introduction to the problem of illiteracy. It’s been on my mind ever since. In particular:
What would life have been like for me had I not the ability to read?
For starters, there’s the obvious. I would not have enjoyed the benefits of a comfortable living, and an interesting career in automation technology. There would have been no high school diploma, no college degree. I would have likely never owned a home. Maybe never driven a car. And, I’m quite sure, my lovely (and extremely literate) wife Diana would have looked the other way on our first meeting. It chills the mind to think about it.
But, given all these career and social differences, there would have been one other dramatic void in my life… the ability to enjoy a book.
I suspect I was reading at a fairly average age of six or seven maybe. I was the youngest in the family by a gap of quite a few years between me and my older siblings. While they read their books, I thrilled to the adventures of my favorite comic book characters: Superman, Spiderman, the Fantastic Four, even Little Lulu. And, I hungered for more.
This years event charity at Left Coast Crime Writer’s Conference was The Los Angeles Library Foundation. One of the most inspirational moments for me, came during the Saturday night banquet, when Penny Mickelbury, the Literacy Coordiator for the Library Foundation, gave a passionate introduction to the problem of illiteracy. It’s been on my mind ever since. In particular:
What would life have been like for me had I not the ability to read?
For starters, there’s the obvious. I would not have enjoyed the benefits of a comfortable living, and an interesting career in automation technology. There would have been no high school diploma, no college degree. I would have likely never owned a home. Maybe never driven a car. And, I’m quite sure, my lovely (and extremely literate) wife Diana would have looked the other way on our first meeting. It chills the mind to think about it.
But, given all these career and social differences, there would have been one other dramatic void in my life… the ability to enjoy a book.
I suspect I was reading at a fairly average age of six or seven maybe. I was the youngest in the family by a gap of quite a few years between me and my older siblings. While they read their books, I thrilled to the adventures of my favorite comic book characters: Superman, Spiderman, the Fantastic Four, even Little Lulu. And, I hungered for more.
My sisters brought home real books. Big, thick, leather-bound tombs that, for me, held unimaginable secrets. I would steal them and covertly slip through the pages. Gone With The Wind, The Great Gatsby, Little Women….
These books… these stories and their characters… live with me today. They come to me as fond recollections, offer solace, peace and sometimes advice. They are part of who I am and what I have become—a writer. I cannot imagine, not of a single moment, a life without books.
The statistics are sobering:
- 774 million people around the world are illiterate in their native languages. Two thirds of these are women.
- In the U.S. alone 30 million people over the age of 16 (14%of the adult population) can’t read well enough to understand a newspaper story or fill out a job application.
The socio-economic impact is massive. Illiteracy can be linked to gender abuse, infant mortality, the spread of social diseases, and crime. More than 60% of all state and federal correctional inmates can barely read or write.
How is it possible—in a world where scientists routinely probe space, calculate the depths of our universe, and bio chemists take us into the micro-molecular world of our own DNA—that society as a whole can be so poorly prepared for life?
My first reaction is anger. Then sadness…
For those told millions will never thrill to Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, or take a journey along Huck Finn’s Mississippi. (How terribly wrong.)
Can anything be done?
I suppose the answer lies in a million points of light (as has been so provocatively stated) But, I believe, as writers and sometimes educators, we have a unique position of influence. Perhaps, even, a unique position of responsibility: to advocate for change at every opportunity.
I for one plan to make the issue a part of every panel discussion and book event I do.
What about you?
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