Friday, December 16, 2011

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.

Monday, December 12, 2011

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.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

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.

Monday, December 5, 2011

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.