More Pictures of Libraries

Someone who knows how much I love libraries sent me this link. He found it on metafilter, so maybe you've already seen it. It's a collection of photographs of libraries from a book of art photos by Candida Hofer. Don't be put off by the name of the post (which I won't repeat here) -- the page is perfectly safe for work. I just don't want to write it in my blog because I don't know what kind of traffic it will generate. I already managed to inadvertently double my hits by including the words "French girl" in an earlier post. Oops, I did it again.

Note that the page loads really slowly, maybe because it's getting all that traffic from metafilter. Aren't you just dying to visit all those places now? But then again, I am someone who thinks that visiting a library, just to see what it looks like, is a perfectly wonderful vacation activity.

What Libraries Look Like

Apparently other people besides me are interested in the emotional aspect of libraries and their architecture/design. I found this collection of library photos on Flickr. But I wish the libraries were identified on the photos; I want to know where they are. I think this collection is associated with this project: Libraries We Love. I'm not sure I exactly get what this "project" is, but there seems to be a book involved. It looks like a book I would enjoy.

If you've never used Flickr before, just click on the "view as slideshow" link on the right side of the little thumbnail images.

What Should a Library Look Like?

I’ve been discussing library architecture with Madison Guy, who blogs at letterfromhere.blogspot.com. He sent me a link to photos of the new Seattle Public Library, which looks amazing. Yet at the same time, I find the design a little confusing, I think because I have certain expectations of what a library looks like. The truth is, I don’t expect a library to be that fancy, or at least that modern. I expect a library to look kind of used, or lived in, if you know what I mean.

The libraries that I love the best are cluttered, slightly down-at-the-heels sorts of places. My local branch library has orange vinyl Danish Modern love seats, a battered photocopier, and a barrel for the food pantry donations. I can’t see any of these things in that beautiful glass tower in Seattle. This conversation with Madison Guy made me think about the library of my childhood, which is something of a Greek Revival pile, built around 1920. It's located in Haddonfield, New Jersey, and here is a photo of it.



It’s the only photo I could find on the Web. Apparently someone is thinking of remodeling or rebuilding it, because I also found references on line to new designs for it. I spent many days (Saturdays, summer week days) in the children’s section of this library from the time I was old enough to ride my bicycle there alone and for several years thereafter. The children’s section (in the basement) had its own entry, through a back door and down a dark staircase. I can still remember the smell, which was mildewy, and the sound of the card stamping machine (ka-thunk). I remember the summer reading program, which mostly consisted of writing my name and the name of a book on a green paper leaf and sticking it to a picture of a tree on a bulletin board. Some books I remember from this library are Nancy and Plum by Betty MacDonald, My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead, A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett, the Mary Poppins series by P.L. Travers, and Dancing Shoes by Noel Streatfeild. We moved to another town when I was 13, and I have never returned to this library. In my head it has stayed exactly the same.

I don’t know whether my children will reminisce about the orange vinyl couches when they are grown and gone. They seem to prefer the library of Mr. Barnes and Mr. Noble. I’ve recently heard that my local branch is also scheduled for reconstruction, to be replaced with some combination of faux prairie-style library/retail/condo nonsense. So I guess I’ll get a chance to see if I can still enjoy myself in a place that smells like new carpeting.

Please know that I am all in favor of libraries getting what they need, be it new books or new buildings. I’m just talking here about expectations and memories.

The Death of My Library Card

I've had the same library card for 20 years. But alas, its days are numbered. I blocked out my name and number to avoid library identity theft.

The Libob

When my sister was little, she called the library "the libob," so now we all call it that. I love the libob, with all my heart and soul. Sometimes, when I'm depressed, I just go there. I don't even need to check out any books, or even read anything. I can just sit there, and start to feel better.

But of course I never leave empty-handed. I love the fact that the books are free. I am a greedy patron, and take home any book that looks remotely interesting. I judge books by their covers all the time.

I've been going to the same branch of my library for more than 20 years. I know the fiction collection intimately. Recently I've started playing this game where I stand in front of a section of shelves, and I have to find at least one book that I've read on every shelf. I almost never lose.

Almost all of the books I read I get from the library. I go to bookstores, but almost never buy books. Instead, I buy coffee, and then I wander around looking at all the latest releases, armed with a small pad of a paper and a pen. I write down the names of books that look interesting, and then request them from the library.

I know we should buy books so that authors can keep their publishing contracts and keep writing. I am grateful to the authors I read, and want them to keep writing, so I do buy their books, sometimes. Especially if they are not best sellers; some of those people don't need my help, so I save my dollars for those authors whose appeal seems narrower, but who nevertheless please me with their work. I recently purchased Case Histories by Kate Atkinson, but haven't read it yet. I also bought A Feast for Crows, but that was because it was the only way to get it without waiting for months for the library's copy, and I couldn't wait any longer than I had already waited.