It's the "best of" reading list you've all been waiting for! Every year, MLC staff put together their favorite books--novels, picture books, comics, nonfiction, what have you-- and post it here on our lovely blog for you, our dear readers. Hyperlinked titles are available in MLC's collection and many of these books are also available at your Mississippi public library. We've been sharing these lists for several years, so if you're looking for book recs you should check out some of our faves from years past: 2016 part 1, 2016 part 2, 2017 adults, 2017 kids, 2018, 2019, and 2020. Without further ado, these are the books MLC staff loved reading this year.
Have a question?
Chat Monday-Friday, 8 AM - 5 PM (except MS state holidays)
Phone: 601-432-4492 or Toll free: 1-877-KWIK-REF (1-877-594-5733)
Text: 601-208-0868
Email: mlcref@mlc.lib.ms.us
Thursday, December 30, 2021
Books We Loved in 2021
Tuesday, December 14, 2021
Racing to Meet that Reading Goal!
I make a reading goal every year. I started doing this seven years ago. My reading productivity, what an awful word, has increased every year since I started creating a goal (it took a small dip this year, but that’s an anomaly). So, it makes me wonder, does making a goal truly increase the amount of reading I do, or has it increased the amount of reading I feel I need to do? Let me look back just a bit.
In 2020, I read 161 books. My goal that year was 150 books. Yes, I was very elated and proud of myself, but I was also embarrassed. I didn’t want to tell people I read that many books, for several reasons. I didn’t think people would believe me. Many of those books were also audiobooks, and I know that a lot of people don’t feel that audiobooks count as reading. (I have strong opinions about this and have written about this before, but the audiobook stigma is still around). And lastly, I felt like it made me look like I don’t have a life outside of reading. I know that may sound ridiculous, but I’m laying it all out here!
In 2015, I made a goal of reading 35 books. It was my first year to make a reading goal, and I achieved it. I read 38 books that year. I feel like I felt more accomplishment that year over those 38 books than I have any year since. I think it’s because I didn’t put pressure on myself. I didn’t look at what other people’s goal were. I didn’t compare my reading goals to theirs. It really is true that “comparison is the thief of joy.”
I’ve surpassed my goal this year with an admirable 92 books. (My goal was 80). I keep thinking, "What will I do for my goal for 2022?" Will I make one? I’m sure I will because I enjoy keeping track of which books I read in which year. It’s a nice way to summarize the year--I love organization! But. I am going to work on taking the pressure off my reading self. My real 2022 reading goal will be to simply enjoy the books I choose and get off the treadmill of caring so much about the number. My wish is that you do the same.
Happy reading in 2022!
Monday, December 6, 2021
What's on my Nightstand?
Lead Library Consultant
Edward Weston: His Life from Ben Maddow, published by Aperture in 2005.
The Scavenger's Guide to Haute Cuisine: How I Spent a Year in the American Wild to Re-create a Feast from the Classic Recipes of French Master Chef Auguste Escoffier, by Steven Rinella.
An Echo in the Bone, by Diana Gabaldon.
My hope is that this confession relieves some of the anxiety you may have about your pile of best book friends waiting on your nightstand. Whenever you are ready, they are there to occupy the time of the brooding winter months or to break up a streaming binge session. I implore you to read what you love, when you love it, and know that there is a book for every reader.
Monday, November 22, 2021
We Can Help With That
Information Services Director
What do To Kill a Mockingbird, The Color Purple, and The Sun Also Rises have in common?
They’re all banned books! These classics have been banned, nearly banned, and everything in between for a variety of reasons, some of which you can read here.
On one side of those challenges there is always a librarian or teacher who was incorporating a novel into their collection or classroom. They had reasons behind choosing to add these books to their collection and teaching them to generations of students. When a book is chosen for a collection in a library or added to a school curriculum, there is typically a vetting process that involves reviews and research, as well as knowledge of a community. It is a deliberate and thoughtful decision. When a book is challenged or opposed, the librarian or teacher must defend their choice and dig up those reviews and articles and awards.
Or could someone else do the heavy lifting for them?
The Mississippi Library Commission is now offering a service for Mississippi teachers and libraries who face materials challenges or can feel one brewing and want to be prepared. We will do the research for you: finding awards lists, reviews, and articles that discuss the title in question so that you can more easily defend your collection and your community’s right to read. All you need to do is call our Reference Desk at 601-432-4492, text us at 601-208-0868, or email us at mlcref@mlc.lib.ms.us. We will compile the information that you need so you'll have more time for other thoughtful and deliberate decisions.
For other information about dealing with materials challenges, feel free to visit our Intellectual Freedom Resources page here. We hope that you will not need this service, but know that it will be invaluable if you do.
Tuesday, November 16, 2021
Let's Go StoryWalking®, Mississippi!
Storytime is one of the most iconic services public libraries provide children. They're a great way to engage kids with books and get them up and moving around . You would be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't remember attending one at least once when they were small, whether with a family member, a day care, or a school group. When Covid-19 struck and social distancing became the norm, libraries were left scrambling to fill that gap. Many responded with successful virtual storytimes and outdoor storytimes, but StoryWalksⓇ, the 2007 brainchild of a Vermonter named Anne Ferguson, have exploded in popularity across the state and become the unexpected champion of storytime during the pandemic.
StoryWalksⓇ are a relatively simple concept. Break a book down to just its pages. Post those pages along a walking trail or around the library. Wait for the squeals of glee. Earlier this year, the Mississippi Library Commission invested a small portion of its LSTA funds into creating four initial StoryWalksⓇ for public libraries to borrow. We chose several popular picture books: Not Norman by Kelly Bennett, The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson, How to Fold a Taco/Como Doblar un Taco by Naibe Reynoso and Ana Varela, and Kitten and the Night Watchman by John Sullivan and Tae-eun Yoo. Then our team of workers got to work disassembling the books, laminating pages, and cutting up velcro. We set up a Google document so that StoryWalkⓇ visitors could check in via QR code and we were up and running. Six library systems have already taken advantage and checked out these kits, and many more were inspired to create their own. They are a new welcome addition to festivals and parks that we hope will be around for years to come.
This year, Let's Move in Libraries and the Association of Bookmobile and Outreach Services have partnered to celebrate StoryWalksⓇ--and the librarians who create and promote them--across America with the first ever StoryWalkⓇ Week. Definitely visit their Facebook and Instagram pages to view the libraries showcased there. Want to check out one of our StoryWalkⓇ kits? Contact our Digital Consultant Charlie Simpkins at csimpkins@mlc.lib.ms.us to learn how. Want to create your own StoryWalkⓇ? The steps are outlined for you right here. Been to a StoryWalkⓇ in Mississippi? Tell us about your experience in the comments! And last, but certainly not least: happy reading!
Thursday, November 4, 2021
Join MLC's Talking Book Services!
Our Talking Book Services Department is hiring! Seize this opportunity to serve Mississippians who are unable to read standard print due to a visual, physical, or print disability and work in a great environment at the Mississippi Library Commission.
We are located at the Research and Development Center in Jackson, Mississippi, just off Lakeland Drive and Ridgewood Road. Our award-winning facility is the home to the Mississippi Center for the Book, a Patent and Trademark Resource Center, and, of course, the Mississippi Talking Book Service for the Blind and Print Disabled. We also offer extensive reference and interlibrary loan services for Mississippians and library consulting services, digital services, and network services for libraries and librarians across the state. Our current openings include:
- Librarian I
Closes Friday, November 15, 2021 - Librarian II
Closes Friday, November 5, 2021
Monday, October 25, 2021
Horror and Hope
Growing up, friends and family might have referred to me as “a little odd.” I was a daydreamer, perpetually lost in fantastical worlds of my own creation, imagining for my toys lives and adventures of their own while I was at school or away on a family vacation. I was also inexplicably drawn to the strange and surreal, to the twisty, often scary, corners of the world around me. In those corners, I didn’t see dust and cracks in the paint, but the ashes of a hastily-smothered fire or hidden messages that only I could read. I was, to put it simply, a weird kid.
I was also, first and foremost, a reader. From the time I could string words together in a coherent sentence, I gravitated toward books and words, toward stories. My mother tells an anecdote in which, at about six or seven, I described myself as “loquacious.” Though I was right in my choice of self-identification, I imagine that I chose the word not because it fit me and my personality, but because I enjoyed the way it sounded, the languorous rise and fall of the syllables, the way it drew my lips forward, then back, then forward again as I shaped them around each sound. The fact that I just used 59 words to describe the reason for choosing that word goes to show that I am much the same now as I was then.
Another thing that has not changed for me since I was a child is my fascination with the horror genre. Throughout elementary school, I devoured the Goosebumps series by R.L. Stine, even going so far as to fill out a form in the back of one of the books to join his fan club. I mailed the application and was rewarded with a signed photo of the author himself. Granted, that signature may have been a copy printed onto each of the photos sent to us ravenous children, but it still meant something to me. That photo is long gone now, misplaced or discarded during one move or another, but I remember it vividly, as I also do the stories Stine wrote. They, along with but to a lesser extent the Fear Street tales, have stuck with me into adulthood, where I now write my own horror stories professionally, as an agented writer looking toward the publication of their debut novel. While my own work does not center around children or teenagers, the core appeal of those spooky stories sits at the head of my practice, my process of crafting a narrative meant to fascinate and simultaneously repulse its reader.
Because that’s the central tenet of good horror writing, isn’t it? To make the reader scared to turn the page, but helpless in the face of their own curiosity, their need to follow the story through to the end, because it’s just that good. I think that’s something about horror that translates well to real life: so many of us are scared of how our stories will turn out, and yet most of us go through our days anyway, wanting to know how it all shakes out. It makes sense that we might be propelled through a fictional story by that same curiosity.
All this to say, I completely understand the people who eschew horror because they have lived through enough terror and pain to last them the rest of their lifetime. If you have experienced real, palpable fear that leaves behind a psychic (and, in some cases, physical) scar, then why subject yourself to that same kind of fear in your leisure time? It makes a certain kind of sense. But, on the other hand, some of those same people who have experienced trauma and fear in their real life will often find fictional horror a type of outlet or catharsis for their pain. Because they are able to control the type of fear to which they’re subjected, the fear becomes less damaging and more of a purge of the emotions that are wrapped up in fear: grief, embarrassment, guilt. If we fear the pain of grief, for instance, then might it not be helpful to run through a fictional situation in which loss plays a large role, as a sort of trial run? Would we not then be better prepared for the emotions that arise when we are in the midst of a divorce or dealing with the death of a loved one or mourning the loss of a home or a part of our lives we thought would be around forever? Of course, it’s not a foolproof strategy for how to cope with unpleasant emotions, but nothing is really.
In my case, I fear physical pain to an extreme degree. (Please disregard the fact that I have multiple tattoos; I’m talking about a more intense and ongoing pain here.) I avoid most situations in which an amount of pain might be expected. You will not catch me scaling cliffs or subjecting myself to a session of CrossFit. Scenes wherein tremendous amounts of pain are inflicted on the characters cause me to cringe and duck behind my hands. I have nightmares about body horror like Junji Ito’s The Enigma of Amigara Fault. But I have also watched almost all of the Saw movies and have listened to the audiobook of Nick Cutter’s The Troop and The Deep multiple times. I don’t know if consuming these kinds of horror stories will make it easier if I ever go through something truly painful (like when I fractured my wrist as a child), but it certainly makes me feel more grateful for the times when my body feels healthy and strong.
That’s another thing that drives horror: a fear of weakness. I would be willing to bet that most people have experienced a nightmare in which they felt completely helpless, whether that meant being unable to walk or run from a pursuer or a sudden muteness that left them incapable of calling for help. We all fear being weak in some way—physically, emotionally, or mentally—and at the core of that fear is the question, “What will be done to me when I am unable to defend myself?”
This question is especially pertinent to those of us who live with some form or marginalization. Someone with a mental illness or disability may fear an abusive conservatorship (wherein another person is put in charge of your life, as in the case of Britney Spears’s conservatorship) or institutionalization. Someone with a physical disability that literally prevents them from being able to defend themselves would have ample cause to fear an abusive caregiver or any callous stranger on the street. And, on a slightly more philosophical but no less important note, a person of color or a queer person might fear violence when they lack a support network, which might be considered a way to defend yourself against social attacks or manipulation. That’s all to say that, regardless of your placement in the social hierarchy of the West (as that is where I have lived all my life and so can only speak to my experiences here), everyone will have seen or experienced what can happen when one person is at a disadvantage to another. It’s similar to love or intimacy in a way. We are all always asking, “If I show you this vulnerable part of myself, will you be good to me?”
It’s the same for me with my writing. I put so much of my heart into my work that sharing it with another person is akin to tipping back my head and exposing my throat. They could kiss it, or they could cut it. It all depends on them at that point. And, even in spite of that fear, I still show my stories to other people. Why? Why not hide it, and thus that soft part of me, away where it can’t be harmed? Because otherwise I will have missed out on that intimacy, that connection with another person. Yes, the fear is there because I have been hurt in the past, because I know that I could be hurt again, but so too is the knowledge that hope exists. Any good horror story will maintain that spark of hope, because it isn’t just the curiosity that drives us to finish the book—it’s also the hope that, despite all that terror, things will be okay in the end. That’s why people get into relationships again even after a bad breakup or why people ride roller coasters again and again. Because the risk is worth the reward we hope awaits us. And all that fear we experienced along the way?
Well, it just makes us more grateful.



