Book lovers everywhere, get pumped: tomorrow is the start of Banned Books Week.

What does this mean, exactly? Honestly, not a whole lot for most of the world. If you live in Washington D.C., you can search around the city for books wrapped in the (irrational, ridiculous, pointless) reasons that they were banned, which is very cool. Anyone in Washington D.C. over the next week should take advantage of this rebellious and yet somehow also wholesome scavenger hunt fun.  

But the rest of us have to celebrate on our own. We could all just go about our normal lives, taking for granted our freedom to read just about anything we want, or we could bake cakes shaped like books, with Fifty Shades of Grey written in probably-not-gray icing, Jim Dale’s audiobook narration of the entire Harry Potter series playing in the background, and goodie bags of inked-up pens and freshly sharpened pencils as party favors. (Am I the only person wondering why CVS doesn’t have a seasonal section for Banned Books Week?)

Really, the whole point of Banned Books Week is to learn about censorship, through the lens of some of the world’s favorite books. So this year, I put away my Jane Austen-style, Regency era nightgown and decided to ask (Google) the question: Why were these beloved books banned in the first place? I’ve compiled a list of some of the most Literary with a capital L masterpieces. Read on to find out just some of the silliness that has actually occurred in our nation’s colorful history.

​By the way—none of these books were banned where I grew up. I read nearly all of them in high school, when I was young and naïve. Does no one care about my purity? What about my innocence? Oh, well. It’s too late now. Besides, being corrupted is way more fun.

The banning of The Catcher in the Rye, a novel by possibly the most popular recluse ever J.D. Salinger, is a little easier to believe than the banning of Captain Underpants. I mean, it does have some profanity in it. And, like, a scene with a prostitute. But compared to some of the things I've accidentally seen on television, it's not that bad. 

So what's the real underlying issue here? Is it the vulgar language and occasionally crude scenes? Is it because Holden despises all that represents middle class values, which is something that so many Americans hold so very dear? Or is everyone just angry at Salinger for going into seclusion and not tweeting answers to readers' burning questions like J.K. Rowling does?

Turns out, it's not as psychologically exciting as my imagination can come up with. Boringly, profanity was a big reason. True, Holden curses every other word, and if not every other word, then at least every other sentence. But a book can't be this controversial based on foul language alone. 

Here's where it gets interesting: in 1987, The Catcher in the Rye was banned from a school in North Dakota for even just discussing premarital sex. I haven't read this book in a while, but I don't think Holden "gets some" at any point (wow, I gagged a little even just writing that phrase). So it was actually just banned for the minute mention of premarital sex. In 1985, a school in Florida also banned the novel, citing its only reason being that the book is "unacceptable." It certainly doesn't help that only five years prior, a man named Mark David Chapman, while holding his personal annotated copy, shot and killed John Lennon in New York City. This unfortunate tie is made worse by the fact that Chapman assassinated Lennon because, in his words, he was "being a phony" (those of you who have read The Catcher in the Rye or even my Wednesday Word series are familiar with the term). 

​Despite all of the dumb reasons, and the admittedly crazy and terrible reasons, too, The Catcher in the Rye is consistently reinstated into the average high schoolers' literature curriculum. I remember reading it my freshman year of high school. And honestly, I loved it. It helped me feel, if nothing else, just a little bit less insane. 

I know. I know. This one is truly unbelievable. 

How could anyone possibly ever even imagine banning such a historically, emotionally, and spiritually significant work? And reason is not because children might get nightmares from the atrocities that Frank describes with deeply beautiful language and honesty. It's not because it scares people that human beings once had to completely stop their own lives, hide in an attic, and yet still end up in the horrific Nazi death camps. It is because, in the midst of one of Frank's brief diary entries, the young teenage girl described the maturation of the female body.

Puberty. She talked about puberty, and everyone freaked out. Some schools even assigned censored versions to their English classes. Because no one can handle reading a couple of sentences about an intelligent girl maturely discussing sexual organs.

The thought makes me livid not only because I am a moderately decent human being, and not only because I am a reader who trusts books to read as they were written, but also because I am a proud woman who has read too freaking much about penises, who has seen too many crappy drawings of penises on bathroom stalls and textbooks, who has heard too many jokes about penises. One mention of a vagina, and people are spending money, time, and effort editing, reprinting, redistributing, and reassigning a classic masterpiece that somehow exists in a vagina-less world.

So, yes. I have very strong feelings about this banning, which to me is nothing less than a major injustice to the Frank family and to young girls and boys everywhere who deserve to read an accurate account of this miraculous and inspiring girl's childhood. 

There you have it. As previously stated, banning books is ridiculous. But at least it reminds us why the freedom to write and the freedom to read are so important. Basically, get your butt to your local library and read whatever the heck you want, and don't forget to consider the things that some scared-o said you shouldn't read! No one can tell us what not to read! We are masters of our texts! We are captains of our words!

Happy reading!
-GU

Will a book that I loved as a kid hold up to my grown-ass-woman standards? Admittedly, my grown-ass-woman standards are still pretty silly and goofy, but nevertheless. I have matured slightly since I was ten. 

When I was a little Girl Unaffiliated, my dad would sometimes surprise me at the end of the school day with a new book, and often take me to author signings at the local bookstore. We’ve always been very close, and I have the fondest memories of waiting in long lines at Barnes and Noble with him, reading and laughing.

It was also around this time that my Greatest Ambition was to be a Voiceover Artist. (Yes, I always said it with that exact, formal phrasing.) I have no idea where I learned that this was an occupation, but I distinctly remembering telling my mother what I wanted to be when I grew up and, upon receiving her surprised response, told her, “Mom, you do know that cartoon characters aren’t real, right?” Though I would’ve settled for a job with any of my favorite cartoons, what I really wanted to do was provide a voice for what seemed to be the inevitable movie adaptation of my favorite book series, The Adventures of Captain Underpants. (I am still waiting for this seemingly inevitable movie adaptation.) So, when my dad surprised me one day by taking me to a book signing with Dav Pilkey and told the author all about my aspirations, Dav promised to call me first when Captain Underpants: The Movie needed some voiceovers.

Hilariously, this book was the number one most challenged book in 2013 for “offensive language” and “violence.” Individuals filed more reports to ban Captain Underpants than Fifty Shades of Grey, which came at number four on the list. With this baffling piece of information in mind, let’s take a look at my childhood favorite, The Adventures of Captain Underpants.

One hundred and twenty-one pages and twenty minutes later…

As it turns out, I still freaking love this stuff. That was a truly incredible read. It took less than half an hour. I laughed out loud, often hysterically, from beginning to end.  

This series follows George Beard and Harold Hutchins, two mischievous but good at heart school kids who love making comics together (George writes and Harold illustrates; maybe this book an early influence as to why the creating bug bit me?). Though they have created such incredible superheroes as “Dog Man,” “Timmy the Talking Toilet,” and “The Amazing Cow Lady” (essentially me), their all-time greatest superhero is, you guessed it, “The Amazing Captain Underpants.” Trouble arises when they accidentally hypnotize their mean, evil principal Mr. Krupp with the 3-D Hypno-Ring™. Now every time someone snaps, Mr. Krupp becomes Captain Underpants, and won’t revert to his former self until someone pours water on his head. Obviously, hilarity ensues. 

I’m only a little embarrassed to say that I laughed the loudest when some bystanders were guessing what that flying thing in the sky was: “’Look up in the sky. It’s a bird.’ ‘It’s a plane.’ ‘It’s a egg-salad sandwich.’” (It was none of these things.)

This series is sidesplitting, creative, intelligent, and entertaining—which is way more than I can say for Fifty Shades of Grey.
 
Happy fighting for truth, justice, and all that is pre-shrunk and cottony.
GU