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.