What do Odysseus, the youngest son of a farmer setting out to seek his fortune, and Molly Whuppie, that ogre-defeating heroine of folklore have in common? Besides the fact that these are characters from folklore, what they have in common is that in their stories they are called to follow what mythologist Joseph Campbell called the "hero's quest." The series of stages in this quest bear remarkable metaphoric power for understanding the reader, and the reader's advisory transaction in libraries.
Joseph Campbell explains the stages for the hero's quest in many of his works, but they are most explicit in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. In this work, Campbell explains that the hero's adventure is similar to a rite of passage in that the hero experiences a departure, an initiation, and a return:
A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder; fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won; the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man. (28)
While Campbell extracts this mono-myth (a basic pattern found in myths from around the world) from mythic narratives, it is also evident in many folktales. An example from a well-known Grimm tale illustrates this process. Hansel and Gretel are taken to the forest and abandoned (departure). They encounter the witch and are held captive and put through various trials (initiation). Gretel finally defeats the witch by pushing her into the oven, frees Hansel, and they go home triumphant with their pockets full of the witch's pearls and jewels (return).
Campbell expands upon this basic process by dividing each of these three stages into five or six more detailed stages, as described in Table 1 below:
| Table 1: Stages of the Hero's Quest | |
|---|---|
| DEPARTURE | |
| The Call to Adventure | Hero is compelled to leave the safety of normal life due to a threat or an accident |
| Refusal of the Call | Hero is reluctant to go adventuring, but something usually impels the hero forward |
| Supernatural Aid | Hero meets a helper (wise person or creature) who offers useful (magical) tools or advice |
| The Crossing of the First Threshold | Hero leaves the familiar world for the new (and often dangerous) one |
| The Belly of the Whale | Hero's old "self" is left behind (dies) and a new self is accepted |
| INITIATION | |
| The Road of Trials | Hero encounters a series of obstacles which must be overcome |
| The Meeting with the Goddess | Hero meets (and often marries) a power figure/helper (usually of the opposite sex) signifying a synthesis of personality |
| Woman as Temptress | Any temptations (metaphorically cast as "woman") that might lure the hero away from the quest |
| Atonement with the Father | Supreme ordeal or final battle to achieve the quest |
| Apotheosis | Period of rest and rejuvenation before the return |
| The Ultimate Boon | The object of the quest is achieved |
| RETURN | |
| Refusal of the Return | Hero enjoys new life in paradise and is reluctant to return to normal world |
| The Magic Flight | Often the hero is then chased out, as the quest object is often guarded |
| Rescue from Without | Helpers on the return journey |
| The Crossing of the Return Threshold | Hero returns to the normal world and must try to retain wisdom gained during the quest |
| Master of the Two Worlds | Hero has gained the power to move between and synthesize the new and the old |
| Freedom to Live | This mastery enables the hero to fear death no longer and thereby live fully in the moment |
How is this cycle relevant to readers' advisory? On the surface, the process of finding the next book to read is similar to a quest. The reader (hero) seeks a new book (quest object), which initiates a journey or process to find it (departure). Trials and false leads stymie the reader's success (initiation), until ultimately the goal is attained and the reader leaves with another book in hand (return). This is a fairly obvious parallel.
What warrants further exploration, however, is the role of the helper (readers' advisor) in bringing the quest to successful completion. In these myths and folktales, the helper always has special knowledge or abilities that aid the hero on the quest. Whether it is a glimpse into the future (knowledge of pending publications), knowledge of the dragons on the road ahead (common search errors, database ambiguities, or language barriers), or amulets of power (reference sources and search strategies that help the reader refine their need), librarians hold a wealth of information, advice, and tools that can speed the reader's quest forward.
This advice in stories, however, is not usually offered gratis. The hero must earn the reward of the helper's aid. Often the hero must give the helper food, treat him or her kindly, or offer to spend time with the helper. These are minimal expectations, requiring little that the hero cannot readily offer, but these helpers also require something more profound, and perhaps more difficult to give: belief and trust in their abilities. As Campbell writes, "One has only to know and trust, and the ageless guardians will appear." (66) This means that the patron seeking a new book to read must approach the librarian with an attitude of trust and a belief in the librarian's ability to help. Trust is not something that is readily given in today's fear-mongering society.
But trust, too, is earned; we cannot expect patrons to follow our counsel if we consistently provide poor advice. While the helpers in folktales possess precisely the knowledge needed by the hero (hence their appearance in the story), readers' advisory librarians may not know the patron standing before them…and so the tales share their advice with us: get to know your readers deeply so that you can provide when they are in need. Just as the helpers in story offer advice and magical aids and then sometimes accompany the heroes on their quests, we must be willing to live alongside our patrons in their search for reading material. Time spent together will build the trust we need, and repeated success will embolden our heroes to quest farther and more extravagantly.
It is the helper's role to aid the hero in finding what she seeks, but in doing so, they also demand that their heroes become more than they were. That is the growth process of the quest. Heroes do not return unchanged; indeed, they are transformed by their encounters with the creatures and events of their quest. They return empowered, having developed deeper understanding, having risked, and having challenged their prior beliefs and values. If librarians are to accomplish similar feats, we must be willing to be vulnerable with our patrons, share our strengths and knowledge and our uncertainties and questions, so that the relationship we develop with them is one of mutual self-revelation. I do not believe we can honestly ask patrons to reveal themselves to us if we are unwilling to do likewise.
Campbell's mono-myth points to helpers who aid the hero while he is seeking the desired object (supernatural aid), and also while he is returning to the normal world (rescue from without). As librarians we talk a lot about finding the right book for the right person at the right time, but we seldom talk about the value of the hero's return. Here, perhaps, is one of our biggest challenges: we help readers on their quests and celebrate with them when, together, we find the object of their desire; but do we find ways to help them return to the world to share their newfound strength, to reintegrate this new book into their existing mental models? Do we take the time to pursue the effect each quest has upon our heroes and to learn from them so that we become better guides? Certainly we do so with particular patrons who tell us about their reading experiences, but there are many patrons, young and old, who get their next book from us and receive little follow through. Perhaps we should focus more on making time for patrons after they've read our books so that we can learn of the books' impact on our patrons' lives. Book clubs do precisely this, allowing those involved to explore what they've read, but surely there are ways to do this in our ongoing and daily interactions.
So how do we reconstruct the hero's journey in reader's advisory terms? The patron feels the desire to repeat a reading experience or find something similar to what has been read (call to adventure), but often the work of getting to the library, searching Reader's Advisor Online or another reader's advisory database, or admitting to an unknown librarian that you can't find your own reading material requires too much effort, so the patron stays home (refusal of the call). Still, that unfulfilled desire remains, and it grows, until eventually (often when it requires the least effort: "I was in the area anyway.") the patron stops by the library and asks the librarian for some reading suggestions (supernatural aid). The librarian/helper then begins to establish a conversation - and a relationship - with the patron to explore his or her reading interests. The librarian examines the patron's willingness to risk, draws some initial conclusions about the patron's boundaries, and begins to formulate some book recommendations that will move the patron beyond where s/he feels comfortable (crossing the first threshold). As some of these suggestions are made, the patron may resist, but eventually a kind of bargain is reached whereby the reader agrees to explore the uncharted waters you are asking him or her to visit (belly of the whale).
Now the quest is truly enjoined, and the work begins. There are many obstacles to the success of the reader's advisory transaction (road of trials), and each one challenges both the librarian and the reader to find creative ways to circumnavigate it. These challenges are as individual as the players and situations involved, and they require both determination and imagination to rise above. At some point, the patron/hero gets an insight, or an enlightening breakthrough (meeting with the Goddess) that enables him/her to refuse the temptations (woman as temptress) to abandon the search ( i.e., "I don't have time"; "You don't have the right books"; "I can't make myself understood"; "Just give me anything, and I'm sure it'll be okay"). The struggle culminates (atonement with father) as the patron and the librarian persevere, and there is a collective sigh of relief (apotheosis) as the final choice(s) is (or are) made (ultimate boon).
The analogy now becomes a bit more stretched, as the elements of the Return are not usually considered within the purview of librarianship. Once we place the right book in the jubilant reader's hands, we have finished the primary transaction. But perhaps this should not be the case. Since the early 1900s, the literature on librarianship has discussed the need to push recreational readers beyond their comfort zones instead of merely giving them what they want. This is particularly true in children's services, where the quality/popularity debate has raged for generations. Perhaps the reader wishes to read only within the series she is currently reading or wants a book that will confirm rather than challenge prior beliefs (refusal of the return); is it the librarian's job to push a bit, to ask the reader to take risks, to encourage the reader to grow?
In a previous article, I explored three levels of safety in public libraries - physical, intellectual, and emotional - with the conclusion that libraries should certainly be physically safe, but that they may need to remain intellectually and emotionally unsafe if they are to remain the democratizing institutions they currently are. If so, librarians may need to "chase out" the stagnant readers (magic flight) in an effort to keep them developing as readers and as human beings; but if we agree that this is one of our roles, we must accompany the readers each step of the way (rescue from without, crossing the return threshold) and help them synthesize their reading and knowledge into new world perspectives. Once librarians learn to do this consistently, our patrons will be better able to negotiate future boundary-crossings (master of two worlds) and their present lives will be deeper and richer for the experience (freedom to live).
Perhaps the comparison cannot stretch this far. Perhaps we should stop our involvement at the point of the successful quest and leave the integration of the book into the patron's life to him or her. It is certainly easier that way, but does doing so eviscerate the profession? If we accept the authority to make these suggestions, should we not share the burden of those decisions with our patrons? The folktales suggest we should; helpers join the hero on both ends of his quest.
Readers' advisors must continue to serve their patrons with the same diligence and respect that magical helpers show their heroes. The quest, whether for the Grail or a new book to read, is vital to the growth and development of those who seek. We must honor that search, so that our readers have every chance to become the heroes they truly are.
Dr. Brian Sturm is an Associate Professor at the School of Information and Library Science at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His research and teaching focus on the engaging power of story in its various forms, children's literature and services in public libraries, and communication skills.