Alberta revised its ministerial order for the removal of books in schools in September, adjusting restrictions to include only visual depictions of sexual acts.Harkim Wright Sr./The Associated Press
When a Freedom to Read Week event about censorship and book banning is cancelled by the venue out of the blue – the event deemed too political – the irony is unmissable. Such was the case for The Writers’ Union of Canada (TWUC) and the Writers’ Guild of Alberta, who had booked a Royal Canadian Legion hall in Calgary for a public event that would highlight Alberta’s school library book restrictions, and had to scramble to find a different location. (They did; it went well.)
Throw in the fact that the books removed from Alberta school shelves include graphic novel versions of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and George Orwell’s 1984 – and if this was fiction, any editor worth their weight in salt would tell you: nope, too on the nose. (They would also cut “worth their weight in salt” – #cliché.)
In cancelling the contract, the local Legion suggested the event be held at Calgary’s Centre for Sexuality instead. It later explained to the CBC that the Legion is an “apolitical” organization. TWUC chief executive officer John Degen did some quick Googling and found an article about a 2024 event at another Alberta Legion location – a Danielle Smith town hall, open only to United Conservative Party members.
Dozens of library books removed from Alberta schools as new laws take effect
This is the kind of silliness – to use a term an editor might flag as too light for this serious issue – that happens when authorities censor art. In Alberta, a revised September, 2025, ministerial order around standards for school literary materials, which took effect in January, has seen piles of graphic novels removed from school libraries – more than 160 titles, the CBC reported this week.
At the Montreal independent publisher Drawn & Quarterly, one title in particular stuck out. Blankets, a seminal coming-of-age story, originally published in 2003, that the Guardian has called one of the best graphic novels of all time.
This award-winning book by U.S. author Craig Thompson is gorgeous. Reading it for the first time last month, I was drawn into the story but at the same time flummoxed: why would this book land on anyone’s verboten list?
An illustration from the graphic novel Blankets.Supplied
Was it the fleeting, chaste and not at all graphic depictions that hint at masturbation? Was it the – again not graphic – portrayal of child sexual assault? The author’s questioning of his Christian faith? The (heterosexual – not that it should matter) teenage love story?
My bewilderment was overshadowed by my adoration for the book – and my anger that someone had decided to pull it from the reach of some young, curious Albertan reader.
Revised Alberta directive bans books with visual depictions of sexual acts from schools
To be clear: it is also terrible to ban books that may contain racier material, graphic novels that had enough literary value that some teacher-librarian or other knowledgeable educator had decided it belonged in the school. Attention, government of Alberta: do you know what students can access on their phones? If they’re going to be looking at porn (and they are), at least let them have access to literature that may help them navigate a complicated stage of life; put their big feelings into some sort of context; give them the opportunity to see themselves reflected in the pages of a book – a tremendously powerful experience, as any reader knows.
“It’s almost quaint to think that a teenager or any kid can go into the library and be scandalized by Blankets,” D&Q publisher Peggy Burns told me.
Graphic novels may be particularly appealing to young readers, a sort of gateway drug (maybe not the best way to put it in this context) to literature. What are kids losing out on when authorities bar access to them? What potential is society at large losing out on? How many people has Blankets helped set on their path?
This may be happening overtly in Alberta and a few other places in Canada (and the U.S., of course), but TWUC chair Kim Fahner, an author and veteran teacher herself, warns of a wider chill. “I know colleagues who are nervous,” she told me from Sudbury, Ont., where she lives. Choosing books for their students, imagining with dread a potential administrative battle over a certain title, they might choose an easier path, a less contentious book. “It’s quiet censorship.”
To employ one final cliché (sorry, editor), there may be a silver lining here. As Mr. Degen points out, this kind of censorship can have the opposite effect. “Banning a book in front of a student is just tempting.”
I will never understand why a book like Blankets would be banned, but here’s hoping this strange and wrongheaded decision tempts some young person to read it – or any of the other titles on this nefarious list. It could change their life. That’s what books can do.