Take That

What would be appropriate librarian gifts for Christmas? How about things made from books--or librarians? In the later case I am not advocating a Frankenstein assembly from librarian body parts, exactly. One could, however, give as gifts those features that compose the librarian stereotype.

Say a false chignon, which could also serve as a hiding place for a flask or any type of contraband (for a male, such a hair bun is overtly conspicuous).

Add to this spectacles, with lenses as thick as an unabridged dictionary and a chain sturdy enough for a ship's anchor.

For a dress, a black neck-to-ankle mummy wrapping would do (again, this would look not quite so fetching on a male).

Last, an arm contraption automated to bring a finger to the lips for a well-earned shush.

Delight in Disorder (2)

Problematical objects on a reference desk can be either too many, too much alike, or too old. The first monopolizes space, the second complicates locating, and the last are irrelevant (however much they might please the archaeologist). Categories can overlap.

That they remain ensconced is a result of them blending in with the deskscape. By degrees their presence becomes a tradition. Eventually by accident or design some are found out and removed.

Delight in Disorder (1)

The title of the Robert Herrick poem is anathema to the librarian mindset. However, disorder reifies atop many a librarian's desk.

The problem enlarges when several library personnel share a public reference desk. Oddly, the smaller it is,the better, for there is less space to grow the things that contribute to the disorder. Where there is no vacancy, there is no encouragement to fill it.

Librarian Classics (1)

If Captain Nemo had possessed a large enough library, it would be 20,000 Books under the Sea.

Dickens might have had The Old Curiosity Bookshop in which he could file the Pickwick Papers.

Thomas Hardy reveals many a public services librarians' dream in Far from the Madding Patrons and that of those who work in circulation through Return of the Borrowed.

Leo Tolstoy's War and Quiet deals with the ever ongoing campaign of shushing waged by librarians.

The Trial might describe the Kafkaesque experience of listening to a patron recount at excruciating and inscrutable length an assignment he/she doesn't understand whatsoever.

What Are Your Qualifications?

Common words that form titles are no friend of searchers. Hollywood is rife with them: M, Z, Up, etc. Book titles can be equally sweeping and terse. Desi Arnaz wrote A Book--maybe one should be thankful that he at least included the article "a." That'll narrow the results.

Searching for sweeping titles without resort to qualification by form (movie) or author (Arnaz) or the right database can make for a very long slog.

Library titles share the generic guilt. Just try doing a raw search for journals such as The Library or Searcher.

Books, Bookworms, and Owls (2)

Would a mascot make a library more friendly and approachable? Or would it jeopardize its facade of gravitas and add to a sense of triviality or even juvenility? A library does have an image, and the use of a mascot offers a means of playing with it and re-defining its profile.

Some mascots are probably inadvisable. A dinosaur, for example, might suggest that the library has gone that way.

Whether a library should have a living embodiment of a mascot is debatable. The various types of bookworm would be unwelcome and the majestic owl would be a challenge to maintain. The cat only could be a viable choice, barring the barrier of ailurophobes.

Books, Bookworms, and Owls (1)

Why don't academic libraries typically have mascots? Their school is almost certain to, thanks to their sports team. Animals are most popular, followed by classes of humankind associated with a fighting spirit: the American Indian, Vikings, soldiers from various decades, pirates, etc. Less frequent are gussied up alphabetical letters and creative typography, while among the least common are inanimate objects.

An online search for (public) library mascots shows a preference for brain over brawn, which perhaps clarifies why there are so fewer examples. The bookworm and owl hardly need an explanation, whilst the cat may be one because of its long association with a bookish environment. (Contrary to the thoughts of some, the geek is not an animal.)

The pickings then become slim, so inanimate objects are chosen, notably the book. Apparently scrolls of parchment are considered too old.

Yet with its emphasis on literacy, the library could naturally adopt letters, which would both figuratively and literally represent it.

Ceci N'est Pas une Pipe

In the library world there's been discussion about the re-naming of various library spaces, say the computer commons or the reference desk. The fixed idea is to put them in phrases with the word "information" or "learning" or "research" or the like. But why do they need obvious descriptors? You don't normally put a sign on your door with the word "door" or on your desk with "desk."

You could, for example, call the reference desk Adventures in Learning or LibraryWorks or Librarian's Revenge or anything else. If that makes you nervous, add a traditional subtitle. Keep in mind that most patrons already know they're in the library, so be-laboring the obvious is unnecessary.

Bacon and Mutton

"Some books," stated Sir Francis Bacon, "are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." In The Book of a Naturalist (George H. Doran, 1919) W. H. Hudson tells of a sheep who "would steal quietly in [my home] and finding a book would catch it hastily up and make off with it. Carrying it off to the plantation she would set it down, put her hoof on it, and start tearing out the leaves and devouring them as expeditiously as possible. Once she had got hold of a book she would not give it up—not all the shouting and chasing after her would make her drop it" (p. 124-125).

Thar She Blows (2)

Gushing's opposite is kvetching. (Their bird counterparts would be a bluebird vs. a blue jay.) In favor of the former, it is at least upbeat; while the latter may happen upon an actual problem amongst the many fake ones. Yet both are beaucoup non-discriminating.

The two outlooks may have an uneasy relationship. In the words of Elbert Hubbard "A pessimist is a man who has been compelled to live with an optimist." A library conference or post-conference is much more likely to have--publicly, anyway--gushing rather than kvetching.

Flying Cars of Yesterday (2)

To counterbalance my skepticism in a prior post about the rosy-painted future of 3D printing, I offer this too-good-to-be-true quote attributed to a U.S. Patent Office Commissioner who in 1899 is purported to have said, "Everything that can be invented has been invented."

(For those who can't get enough of forecasts that went wrong, there is "Incorrect Predictions" at Wikiquote.)

Flying Cars of Yesterday (1)

Where are the flying cars promised so long ago? Unfortunately, they may be in the same future-past junk heap as 3D printing for libraries. Bracing, exciting is the concept presented on the American Libraries video. But so much of it is infiltrated with wish fulfillment, a projection of what would be were progress assured and circumstances utopian. As Voltaire said, if every infant grew up to the promise of its potential, the world would overflow with geniuses.

Thar She Blows (1)

On the ACRL post-conference webcast critiques were invariably of the gushing sort. I've no objection to praise--especially were it ever to be directed against me--but the sugary compliments lacked intellectual heft. They were pro forma and are another example of librarian "nice-ing," with politeness and support replacing thoughtful criticism.

Library Movie Titles That Didn't Make It (1)

The Towering Info: The story of a library's information tower that caught fire.

Dear Old Dinosaurs

Reference books are dinosaurs that don’t know they’re dead. Once the Brahmins of library books, they have been marginalized. That they don't circulate is a strike against them. Their expense can make them less desirable acquisitions. The internet easily out-performs them in the case of ready reference. Austere and humorless, some are weighed by intimidating bulk or voluminism through aiming for relentless comprehensiveness.

Yet they must have a few sentimental friends in the publishing or library or scholarly world, for otherwise their extinction would be official.

The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether

The best library is where the inmates--not the users but the librarians--have taken over the asylum. This plays to the strength of the individual rather than homogenizing the library operation into bland and corporate rules. Librarian-centered administration could create pitfalls of idiosyncratic extremism, obstructionism, and balkanization (as everyone does his own thing), so there must also be individual accountability.

Blogged Down (10): I and We

Library blogs are not librarian blogs, a whole 'nother animal. Library blogs are much further from an individual personality than librarian blogs, which have a right to brandish the word "I," while the former in effect uses a royal "we."

Librarian blogs cover much more subject-territory than library blogs, and in a manner from the light (e.g., Librarian at Play) to the heavy, where entries are so encumbered with end notes that you'd think that they had wandered in from the journal College and Research Libraries.

Blogged Down (9)

The time between library entries is partly due to the sparseness of viable content. Yet the cause also must spring from those in charge of the blog. If run by a committee, what is common property is no one's, and updating falls victim to lack of leadership or maybe shared procrastination.

A one-person-one-blog approach brings a fresh set of issues. The blog may be set at a low priority, so what gets done is only after a long wait. Too, the person may just lose interest, forget, or quit the position.

It is unlikely the library will receive complaints about an unrefreshed blog, for by then all remaining readers have given up.

Blogged Down (8): Time, and Time Again

Even that minority of readers who are interested enough in a library to visit its blog may yet be discouraged by the interval between entries. The user who periodically comes to the blog and finds nothing has been added may either think that the unwelcome mat has been put out or may space future visits ever further apart. As time lengthens between blog entries, the situation evolves from the chronological to the geological.

Blogged Down (7): What Else?

Aside from library hours and announcements about new resources, readers will find these categories on library blogs:

• bibliographic instruction for course assignments
• debuting employees and retiring ones
• equipment out of order and services unavailable :-(
• faculty publications (hopefully they are part of the library collection)
• fines and other circulation matters that directly affect library users
• gratuitous statistics
• happenings on campus
• news about libraries, the book world, and technology
• old acquisitions (i.e., special collections)
• pathfinders innocently masquerading as blog entries
• pertinent resources
• reading lists
• redesigns and relocations in the library building
• scholarly concerns such as researching, citing, copy-editing, and copyright

Blogged Down (6)

Beyond library blogs' emphasis on hours is their periodic trumpeting of longer periods of time. Somewhat like wannabe Chase's Calendars they didactically announce when a month is dedicated to a subject and expand on this with related resources.

This can be anything from January's California Dried Plum Digestive Health Month to December's Safe Toys and Gifts Month.

Blogged Down (5): NEW!

If any category could vie with library hours for blog popularity, it has to be new! materials--new! databases, new! books, new! subscriptions, new! new! new! (Maybe the blog does not echo with this hypnotic exclamation point gusto, but "new" is a pivotal word. Even commercials brandish it.)

Yet when it comes to notices about new! employees infrequently is there something. New! retirees are marginally likelier to receive attention, usually in the form of a going away celebration.

Blogged Down (4): Yours, Mine, and Hours

Since the hook for blogs is content, what makes up blog fodder?

A seasonal list of library hours, for one. This is very reliable in popularity and uncontroversial. Just the facts, m'am.

Yet there is a problem. A blog consists of timely (a coincidental pun) entries, and a person who wants to know library hours may have ado to journey through a blog to locate this. For the deliberate searcher, it is better for hours to live on the library's homepage.*

*A favorite novel with a gratuitous quote: "From a corner the morning hours run out."--James Joyce, Ulysses

Blogged Down (3)

What prompts a reader to seek a blog? I can think of four categories, none cut-and-dried, nor exhaustive, nor bullet-proof.

(1) To be entertained*
(2) To learn something about the world, if it is only to re-assure your own view**
(3) To listen to a blogger, particularly a friend or personality***
(4) To be usefully informed--this appeals to self-interest****

*A library blog that entertains is an oxymoron.
**The library blog may touch upon the world-beyond-the-library on occasion, but not enough to attract that kind of reader.
***Since library blogs are typically corporate or impersonal, the hook of a friend or personality is missing.
****So a library blog must exploit its niche as being relevant to students and other library users.

Blogged Down (2)

For all the conversational hubbub about library blogs, there are many abandoned ones. For example, do some random clicks at blogwithoutalibrary. That a deplorable number of links have become archival fodder show that corporate aspirations alone cannot sustain a blog.

Blogged Down (1)

Librarians spill lotsa ink about the advisability of having library blogs--institutional blogs written by library workers designed to capture the eyeballs of unsuspecting users. Yet at least in academia the real audience is minute, I imagine. Likely constant readers are libraryophiles, highly motivated students (notably in library science), some professors, and the library staff (eating their own dog food).

ACRL Philadelphia: Why? Because We Like You

Free food is to be had at a library conference--candy and hors d'œuvres in the exhibitors' room and, for those lucky enough to receive an invite, a coveted meal at a vendor event. From one view this is a mild form of bribery, and from another this is the just reward for a librarian's legendary niceness.

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Nice

At this and previous library conferences, people "nice" me. That is, they are inevitably pleasant and polite, and I return the favor. Any problem in this?

Well, you become hesitant to bring any thoughts (to vendors, to speakers, to colleagues) that challenge this tacit amiability of atmosphere, since they may smack of discord or non-conformity.

"I respect faith, but doubt is what gets you an education"--Wilson Mizner

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Trust Me

As I've stated, some of the talks I attended were dense—or arguably I was too thick. However, not understanding a thing does not prove the information circulated either true or false. While a speaker brings a "trust me" aura to his (her) role, as part of the audience I remain an entrenched skeptic, figuratively and literally a Missourian.

I feel a quote coming on: "Suspended judgment is the greatest triumph of intellectual discipline"—W. K. Brooks

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

Interruption: The Sponsor Strikes Back

In breaking down on Thursday, Blogger ate my latest post. Heretofore, I will prudently save each in Word, then transfer them to mercurial Blogger. In this bow to caution I am following the famous Mark Twain cat.

“We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it—and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again—and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one any more.”

[Post-post, I discovered Blogger had saved my draft, so the set-back has proved temporary and even illusory.]

ACRL Philadelphia: Excess of Evil

If Emily Litella had been a librarian, when a speaker referred to the "axis of evil" she may have heard "access of evil." Maybe she would then have gone on a rant defending the right of libraries to retain pornography.

Or she might have thought of the schedule heading, "Good and evil" (BJ1400-1408.5), which has sub-divisions for "Origin of evil. Depravity of human nature" and "Value of evil" but nothing correspondingly about good. Does this reflect that evil is more widespread than good, if only in the heads of catalogers?

Never mind.

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Shhhh

In the time before a program commences, the white noise of harmless pop music fills the auditorium. Here's the principle that any music is better than none. I wish those in charge took to heart the maxim, "Don't speak, unless you can improve on silence."



"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Coming out in the Wash

It's like something out of Modern Times. In the convention center's restrooms the soap and water dispensers are automated. Put your hands near either and they are supposed to spit out their contents. The soap mechanism makes a whirring sound, the water none (unless it is drowned out).

Except there are times when you have to energetically wave your hands to flag the attention of one or the other. There were occasions when a temperamental soap dispenser that had reluctantly performed would bide its time until you were rinsing your hands and then, seemingly to compensate, whir out its soap futilely without any intentional prompting.


"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Snap to It

Mad Magazine's Al Jaffee had (and may still have) a series called "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions," which gave three possible comebacks to an impercipient statement. This will be a model for the too frequent situation where a speaker is told by someone in the audience near the back of the room "Speak into the microphone. I can't hear you."

Three possible responses that the speaker can make:

1) "What'd you say? I can't hear you."
2) "There's no microphone. Are you blind as well as deaf?"
3) "Now you know the difference between the more expensive and cheaper seats."


"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: What's My Line

Since I dislike queues--I mean waiting in them--I found appalling the frequency and length of them for those seeking food at various counters in the conference center and the nearby food market. I guess if you live in the city this is expected. I don't, and maybe this is why I lack an immunity to queue-wait (not to be confused with the Middle East country).






"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Current Event

If you hung around after the sessions of the day ended, you'd find that the Convention Center and the Reading terminal would turn off most of their lights. Presumably, this was for the laudable purpose of saving energy, which even at that level might still take a million hamsters in a million wheels to produce. Ironically, Philadelphia was the residence of Benjamin Franklin, known for his experiments with electricity and whose face adorns the nearby power plant.


"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Now Hear This

Library conferences are not lavish affairs, though certainly sufficient. They could be much worse. Think of a conference so cheap that the single microphone is made of cardboard. This is just as well, for such a conference could only supply electricity through a small hamster running in a wheel.


"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Testing (4)

Asking a question of a speaker extends ownership of the talk to the questioner and concentrates the learning experience. Questions that are irrelevant or trivial or very long--as others have said, people stop looking at their watches and start looking at their calendars--can make, if not the speaker, then some of the audience impatient or testy.





"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Testing (3)

Speakers are chosen by merit, but in the matter of the question/answer session, it's a free-for-all. What if there were an award for the best question, for the one that tested highest? While it wouldn't guarantee the raised quality of a question, it surely couldn't hurt. It might be an incentive to ask thoughtful questions (and within a fixed time limit).

As to who would be the judge, maybe that could be the speaker or the audience, through applause.





"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Testing (2)

Sometimes it seems that speakers are chosen for the degree of incomprehensibility that they can bring to a topic, which may be recondite to begin with (e.g., knot topology). The understanding of most of the audience is tested and found wanting.




"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Testing (1)

Before a talk, to determine the efficacy of a microphone, a technician often says "Testing." I wish the tester were more creative. For a library conference, such as ACRL, that person should pronounce the words "Dewey" or "LC," and if more needs to come, start through the schedules.

If poetry were favored, there's Shakespeare's "Give every man thy ear but few thy voice." Me, I'd vote for a recital of Milton: "High on a throne of royal state."



"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Well, Shut My Mouth

     During the question-and-answer session following a speaker, why do some questioners go into an expansive essay mode? Maybe a captive audience brings this out, or they're intoxicated by the speaker's charisma.

     It is unfortunate that such persons are not limited, Twitter-like, to 140 characters--or to the terseness that decades past characterized telegrams ("Hello [stop]. I liked your talk [stop]. I have a question [stop]. [Etc.]") Instead, they appear to think that they are being paid by the word.



"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Filler

The room for the 8 a.m. speaker was of optimistic dimensions, but the size of the audience didn't live up to them. Even if it was about circus performance, an invited paper was insufficient motivation to get people out of bed or from their breakfasts. Then again, it is arguable if before or after the talk more of the audience were befogged.






"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Bird Calls

Some poster proposals are not accepted because they show the library as technologically backward. For example, if one were sent suggesting the use of carrier pigeons to fly e-mails between library workstations.





"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set." 

ACRL Philadelphia: Sucker

In my first visit to a Philadelphia restaurant I ordered a soft drink, which came with a straw. When I put my mouth on the straw I was chagrinned to taste paper. The wrapping had been removed except for the top two inches. Presumably this was a compromise to please both a customer's sanitary finickiness and desire for convenience--this was a restaurant where you didn't even have to tear off the covering of a straw, for the waiter was tough enough to do it. After this experience I looked exactingly before sucking on a straw, and indeed found this custom repeated in other restaurants. Maybe it is native to the East Coast.

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set." 

ACRL Philadelphia: Keynote vs. Keynote

The two keynotes bookending the last day were a contrast in content and dress. The first speaker, Jaron Lanier, was a t-shirt/jeans kind of guy who spoke about technology. He reflected his subculture. The last speaker,  dapper and dandiacal Clinton Kelly, spoke on fashion. (I found his subject removed from librarianship and of small interest, but going by the number of questioners he attracted, whoa! was he popular.)

The more philosophical might find the two different speakers symbolic of the split betwixt the mind and the body.



"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

ACRL Philadelphia: Slay That Again

 The first keynote speaker bore the handle of Tiffany Shlain. To a person self-conscious about having slurred speech, her surname is a godsend.
 





"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set." 

ACRL Philadelphia: Not(e)

During talks species of audience attendees were divisible among:

(1) Those who took no notes. Self-confident in their memory, they were, in appearance, unencumbered by pen and pad or laptop that would get in their way of listening to the speaker.

(2) Those who took notes. Writing in a manner that ranged from surreptitious to ostentatious, and industrious to a fault, these individuals didn't trust to memory.

(3) Those who had pen and pad or laptop for display alone. Maybe they forgot the implements were there, or heard nothing worth recording.

"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set." 

ACRL Philadelphia: Tuna and La Scala

Across the street from the conference was a food market, full of crowds and bustle. During a break between meetings I discovered that in one case displaying fish was a type with the sign "porgy" that fortuitously lay next to another, "sea bass." There they were: Porgy and Bass.






"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set." 

ACRL Philadelphia: Why There

What a coincidence. The conference for librarians was next-door to a former railroad terminal named Reading.







"One in an ACRL Philadelphia series. Collect the whole set."

Quote: W. C. Fields

In honor of the venue of the upcoming ACRL conference, I'll quote W. C. Fields on his proposed epitaph:

"Here lies W. C. Fields. I would rather be living in Philadelphia."

Libres Interdits

One of the major problems that public libraries face is what to do about children's books that are controversial. Keep them on the open shelf? Put them in a special section? Withdraw them?

I have a solution.

Buy the book in a foreign language. The book cannot be objectionable if the child cannot understand it. And the child who wishes to read it will have to learn the language in which the book is written. This encourages the child to learn another language.

It's in the Cards

At what point do reviews become sales pitches for the educational industrial complex? Since you often base your buy/don't buy on reviews, this is relevant.

Unintentionally or not, Choice may be the most tempting example through its wielding of cards. It is much more convenient to send your faculty cards rather than review magazines, and much easier for them to send back cards with instructions to buy an item. I know of no other review journal that uses cards.

I suspect that books that are not reviewed by Choice (the cruelest cut), or not reviewed favorably, have a lesser chance of being purchased by an academic library.

Lost: "Librarian at Play"

Google Blog Search can't locate Librarian at Play as a blog title, but messages from the blog do display in the search results. So I have craftily put LaP in a post's title and in its message. Take that GBS (not George Bernard Shaw).

Books That Weed Themselves

For those who didn't know there was a part 1, this is part 2 of my commentary on HarperCollins' decision to put a cap of 26 e-book checkouts for libraries.

From the optimist's viewpoint, this is a Good Thing.

Librarians will no longer have to weed books. They'll disappear automatically after 26 checkouts.

Nor will librarians need be concerned about building a collection for posterity; the only place an old capped title will hang on is through the publisher. And when the publisher goes out of business or loses interest, the title is good and gone, unavailable from that guardian of culture, the library.

What's Real

I recently heard the story of a man who for St. Patrick's day gave his girl a ring with a jewel. She objected upon discovering that the gem was not real, but a sham rock.

This put me in mind of a library reception where I was offered some bubbly. I said I didn't go for champagne, I wanted real pain.

Hot/Cold Enough for You?

You're building is either too hot or too cold. What weather is to the outside of the library, heating and cooling is to the inside. And about as controllable. 

Countdown

HarperCollins' decision to put a cap of 26 checkouts on its e-books has drawn the ire of librarians.

Perhaps at each checkout the e-reader could convey a message to the circulation person: "25 to go"; "24 to go," etc. As the end approaches the warnings could become more urgent: "Watch it, there are only 8 to go"; "Time is running out, only 5 to go." The tone could become threatening: "After 2 more checkouts, it's repossession!" Or scolding: "1 to go; aren't you sorry you didn't buy multiple copies?"

What's next on the publisher's plate? Maybe a plan to retrieve hard copies after 26 checkouts.

Location, Location, Location

In cyberspace no one knows you're a dog--nor which dog pound you're in. According to a blog I read, a library conference is to be held in Portland. But which Portland the blog didn't specify. When the world is your audience, be specific enough to get yourself in trouble.

More in limbo than blogs are newspaper and university sites that fail to indicate the name of the country or state in which they are. I've spent annoyed effort in trying to peg a location. The organization may know where it's at, but I don't.

Quote: Ashleigh Brillant

"My sources are unreliable, but their information is fascinating."

If this is not a challenge for librarians evaluating what they find online, it is for critical thinking. And the internet is chockablock with agreeable but suspect facts.

As a contrast to the above quote, consider John Adams' "Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence."

Read 'em and Reap

Sequels to classic titles such as Gone with the Wind (The Wind Done Gone) may be published to make money, but they may also attract new readers to their source material. Maybe librarians should encourage reading of the classics by this approach. Here are ideas for some sequel titles of American works.

• The sequel to Moby Dick would become Moby Dick: The Revenge.
• The Great Gatsby would become The Greater Gatsby, that sequel could spawn The Greatest Gatsby, and that could climax in The Ultimate Greatest Gatsby.
• "Greasy Lake" would slide into "Greasier Lake."
• Catch 22 would be upped to Catch 23.
• Our Town would grow into Our Megalopolis.
• To attract today's tech savvy student, The Scarlet Letter would have as its sequel The Scarlet Email. For Whom the Bell Tolls would be For Whom the iPhone Rings.
• For those who enjoy Stephen King, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn would become The Adventures of Huckleberry Fiend, and To Kill a Mockingbird would become To Kill and Kill and Kill a Mockingbird.
• For the science fiction fan "The Things They Carried" would be "The Things to Come They Carried."
• The comic book fan would find for Of Mice and Men the sequel Of Mice and Supermen.
• As for the stories of Edgar Allan Poe--you don't need sequels, students check them out regardless.

Echo Chamber

Imagine one library using another as a benchmark, while at the same time the second library uses the first in the same way. This is like the mirror scene of Duck Soup where Harpo tries to convince Groucho he is looking into a full-length mirror by mimicking his actions.

A mirror benchmark is less likely to ensure excellence than imitation.

Riffing on Just in Case, Just in Time

As with many people, when I hear a thing I distort it to my understanding, shaping the information in forms that the speaker may not have intended nor dreamt of. One of my somewhat cryptic notes from a library teleconference has the 8 words: "'Just in case collection'" vs. "'just in time'."

My interpretation: not being all things to all people, a collection is a librarian's selection based on likelihood of title usage (just in case). When a dawdling student needs a resource for a due assignment, the collection is converted into a "just in time," provided that heorshe is able to adapt hisorher requirements to what is in the "just in case" collection. If the student finds nothing of use the collection proves to be neither just in time nor just in case.

Check It Out. Not!

For most students and faculty reference books are persona non grata. Not only may they be imposingly large or multivolumed, with dense blocks of text, they are prisoners of the library itself. Students frequently lose interest in a book when they learn it is not readily able to be checked out. As a solution, either many a reference title should be dissolved into the circulating collection, or they should (with a few exceptions) be fundamentally borrowable.

Librarian+Blog=

A variety of portmanteau words may be made from the words "librarian" and "blog." Take, f''rinstance,  "blogarian." A Google search reveals the word has been recognized. Its superficial kinship with "vulgarian" may not affect its popularity. One can also excise a few letters from the middle of "librarian" and replace them with "blog." The results of this operation is "liblogarian," or "liblogian," or least trippingly "libroglarian."

PN3451: Wanted Dead or Alive

In the context of the Old West poster, the word "wanted" is an oxymoron; you don't want the perpetrator, but rather wish him away. The classification number PN3451 seems something of a scofflaw, an antinomian. In the classification schedule it represents "Prose--Prose. Prose fiction--History--Comprehensive works--American and English." It is the final level, "American and English," that is questionable. I have found the following records under this call number: (a) books about American and English literature; (b) books about foreign literature; (c) books written in German, French, Italian, etc.

If the terms "American and English" refer to the language, then "b" and "c" do not belong in this classification; if they refer to the nationality of the authors of the titles "c" is suspect.

Many Are Culled, But Few Are--

Library books are culled, weeded, de-selected, removed. Why so many synonyms for a single and perhaps straightforward process? Librarians may feel uncomfortable about moving books from their collection so cast for euphemisms that make this action more tolerable. Then, too, they might have before them the spectre of Nicholas Baker.

The Disorderly Librarian

Like the shoemaker and his children, are librarians, those paragons of order, neglectful of this virtue when out of the public eye? Consider the tops of their desks in their private offices. Are they without clutter, with stacked archipelagos of papers neatly alphabetized or chronologized and symmetrically arranged? Or are they magnets for congeries of chaos, papers and other material higgledy-piggledy--ads, unchecked-out books from the collection, memos that have outlived their usefulness, doodled notes, book orders of indeterminate age, freebies from conferences, bookmarks, various containers, 3-ring notebooks, unwrapped cd's and dvd's, office gear, personal keepsakes, eating amenities and the crumbly aftermath of hasty meals, what is that doing there's, and so that's where that's been's?

Quote: James Russell Lowell

"Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot be persuaded to say it."

The meta-quote I gathered from the erstwhile NewsScan Daily. I have no way of knowing the accuracy of the quote or even if Lowell ever uttered it. The internet must have any number of apocryphal attributions from actual figures (I'm thinking Albert Einstein). Subscription quote collections that I've checked do not have it.

Little Bo-Peep: A Cataloging Controversy?

Were nursery rhyme characters treated as authors, how might their names be represented in the author field (100)?

 Someone such as "Jack Sprat" or "Tommy Tucker" would be straightforward:
100 1  Sprat, Jack
100 1  Tucker, Tommy.
I doubt if a birth date (delimiter d) could be found for either.

For Old King Cole, the descriptive "old" may be omitted from the cataloging record, with "King" going into the personal titles sub-field (delimiter c) and "Cole" treated as a single forename.
100 0   Cole, |c King.

Simple Simon would be simpler, a single forename without a title:
100  0   Simon.

The same would apply to "Mary, Mary, quite contrary," assuming there are not two distinct Marys, in which case it would be hoped there could be found a way to qualify both names. If not, they might as well be identical twins, for their separate publications could be ascribed to either author.

The most problematic designated of a nursery character could well be Little Bo-Peep. One may first unaffix the "little" as a description not baptismally related to the name. If the hyphen between "Bo" and "Peep" is official, then the author field would be another instance of a single forename:
100 0   Bo-Peep.
However, if "Peep" is regarded as a surname and "Bo" a forename, then the field would read
100 1   Peep, Bo.
It depends on how much credence one gives to the hyphen.

As I Was Saying

I have a collection of my blog writings. It is a single item. A quote. Not mine. (It is on the previous date.)

Quote: Nathaniel Hawthorne

"The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease." (From The House of the Seven Gables)