What’s the role of nonfiction in our celebrity-obsessed culture?

I’ve written books for young readers for more than two decades, and I once ran an imprint that published edgy titles, like Gary Nash’s Forbidden Love (1999), which is about America’s secret history of race relations, and Judd Winick’s Pedro and Me (2000, both Holt), a graphic novel about his roommate on the reality show Real World who later died of AIDS. But until recently, I’d never been asked to take part in a book challenge. The case is still pending, so I can’t get into all of the details, but the crux of the challenge is fascinating.

It began when a parent formally challenged a nonfiction book in his son’s school library. You’re probably thinking that the book in question is about evolution or sex or Wicca or abortion—or some other hot-button topic. Nope. The book is about global warming. But that isn’t why the parent was upset. He objected to the book because its author used celebrity sound bites to justify his argument. And as far as the father was concerned, that’s not what good nonfiction books are all about.

Or is it? Speaking from personal experience, as an author and editor of nonfiction books, I’d be hard-pressed to think of an instance when I’d turn to a pop star to make an intellectual point. But there are lots of mainstream magazines that constantly do that sort of thing. And for that matter, while most newspapers are struggling to stay alive, USA Today is sailing merrily along on a sea of short, attention-grabbing articles, many of which focus on celebrities. If we add TV and the Internet to the mix, we’re immediately inundated by the sound of celebrities babbling about anything and everything, 24/7. Like the offended father, one could make a case that books for younger readers, especially nonfiction books, should cling to a higher standard of accuracy, depth, and sobriety amidst today’s media din. I’d say that’s half right.

Recently, while I was visiting a public library in Deerfield, IL, to talk about boys and reading, the staff told me about a research project they had just started. Their young patrons were each given a flyer that listed a wide range of potential reading experiences—everything from eyeballing the print on a cereal box to skimming a Web site. The kids were then asked to mark their experiences on a grid called “Read Outside the Book Bingo.” From a young person’s perspective, the game was a great way to win prizes, plus it was fun—but for librarians, the grid was a perfect way to collect data on kids’ actual reading behaviors. I saw some of the early returns, and as expected, youngsters had checked off boxes all over the grid. For these kids, reading didn’t necessarily involve books. And that brings me back to the book on global warming.

For young people accustomed to living in a world of bite-sized information, the challenged title is a bridge between the familiar world of sound bites and the less familiar world of extended narratives, or books. Is it reasonable for publishers, authors, librarians, and teachers to take advantage of today’s glitz and glamour to hook kids on books? Sure, I have no problem with that. But we also need to show young readers that those types of books are only the beginning—not the be all, end all—of what nonfiction has to offer.

So where does that leave us? For many of today’s young people, conventional books are like small life rafts floating in a vast sea of interactive media and online games. Some of you may think that nonfiction needs to stay clear of this flood, while others may think it needs to jump right in and emulate what young kids crave—even if that means we adults may occasionally get wet and need to readjust our expectations. As for me, I think there’s a place for both quality and pop-culture-driven nonfiction books. It’s just that the latter is likely to fade from young people’s minds as quickly as, well, the appeal of the latest pop star.