They're throwing a party and you're not invited.

(This is a librarianing post.)

How much of readers advisory services should be about bibliotherapy and how much is pure entertainment? How do you discern what a patron needs versus what a patron wants? If those two really are diametrically opposed, which do you go with? I know teen librarians tend to be all about the bibliotherapy (My life changed! Because of a book! The librarian gave me!), but does life really work that way?
The most dangerous question: Can one book really make that much of a difference, or are we all a sum of everything we read, view, and/or listen to?
Can you point to the parts of your personality or belief system that come directly from your favorite or most-read book? (Obviously, this question is a moot point if your favorite book has a major world religion behind it.)
I've been wondering all this for the last couple days, after someone on my trusty teen lit listserv asked for recommendations for a group of seventh grade girls looking for fiction about rape, abuse, incest, etc. Immediately, many of my fellow librarians went into bibliotherapist mode. Which is great, if that's indeed what these girls need. I can't argue with the idea that reading a story similar to your troubles could very well help you to at least begin to verbalize and heal from those problems.
But I also think I know a little something about middle school girls. I remember the kind of stories I was attracted to as a middle school girl. If you're a girl, think about what you read and watched in middle school. That's when soap operas first caught your eye, right? Did you have a friend surreptitiously pass you a copy of Forever, Go Ask Alice, or Flowers in the Attic? Did the "nonfictional" aspect of Go Ask Alice make a difference to you? Did you take a cursory glance over the new fiction before heading back to Sweet Valley High? Don't lie--that's when you started reading Anne Rice's books, isn't it?
My point is, middle school girls like trash. The trashier, more sensationalistic the trash, the better. It's something most of us go through. What harm are we doing by not acknowledging that guilty pleasures have their place as well? If you're shaking your head in disagreement with me, ask yourself this question: You have the day off, with nothing to do but sit in the world's comfiest armchair in front of a sunny window. You can read Noam Chomsky or V.C. Andrews. Which do you choose? Are you imposing a different choice on those younger than you, simply because you're older? Who do you think is the favorite aunt or uncle--the one who buys those paperback Nickelodeon tie-in picture books, or Patricia Polacco's latest adult-reader-oriented tearjerker?
Also, you'll pay attention to how I say begin to. There are many, many books I love and would recommend to a person in the same situation as the protagonist, or to someone looking for a genuinely well-written story, but that in no way can compare with counseling or other professional help. Sometimes, it's okay to say you're just a librarian, not a social worker. Or a doctor. Or a psychiatrist. Or a lawyer.
At its heart, readers advisory is about matching people with stories. To me, a huge part of that is finding out the motivation behind wanting a particular story. Rats Saw God fits the questions: I need 10 AR points; my son is suddenly flunking his senior year and screwing everything up; I'm a huge Veronica Mars fan; What have you got that's good to read? But is it necessarily the best answer to all of those questions for the person standing in front of you, or on IM, or through MySpace*?
And I kind of wonder if we're not doing a disservice to the not-trash by recommending, say, Leaving Fishers or Godless when what the patron is really looking for is some sensationalistic mass market paperback "about" "not Katie Holmes" being trapped in "not Scientology"?

Reading a book or watching a movie before you're emotionally and intellectually ready for it can ruin that book or movie for you. I think everyone has an example of something they thought sucked, but then went back and liked 5-10 years later. But what if no one went back?

Other random readers advisory anecdote:
The other week, one of my regulars came in and said he needed some stuff to get out of a reading funk. I had given him at least 5 books a couple days before (and when I say "given", what I mean is, "shoved at him and said, here--read this" and he did), but even the usual suspects weren't catching his interest. He's also slogging his way through a big thick classic for AP Senior English. So I headed into the juvenile fiction stacks. I asked how often he reread stuff, and explained that, when I'm stuck, or not feeling well, or cranky, I tend to go back and reread certain things. If I'm sick, for example, I want Mrs Grass's chicken soup and Narnia. So I gave him Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising (he hadn't read it) and sent him on his way. Reading slump solved.
We can all talk about reading up, or down, or comfort level, or finding reflections of our lives in fictional work and the importance of that, but sometimes it's really as simple as What fits the best in this particular situation?

*Bringing up another question: Should you consider a person's MySpace page before recommending a book? If a girl's page was all faux-Girls-Gone-Wild and she asked you what was new and good, would it all be serious works about girls with bad reputations? Don't you think she'd get the hint, and do you think that would damage your credibility in her eyes?
Can you tell someone they should read Sandpiper (which, incidentally, I love and you should all read) without the underlying sentiment of, "this is book about a slutty girl who realizes maybe it's not such a great idea to be so easy. Hey, maybe you could learn something from it, if you catch my drift"?
And speaking of, when the hell is Sara Zarr's Story of a Girl coming out? I'd let you borrow my galley copy, but I might have to break some legs if I don't get it back.