Regarding Fucking the Library
One shouldn’t blog when angry, so I’d like to apologize for the ranting I did in the Fuck the Library post I wrote the other day. However, as my mom likes to say, “there’s always good that comes out of bad,” and in this case, the good was in the response from readers. Thanks to the interesting emails many of you sent, and to the handful of commenters. Thanks especially to the commenter who suggested I should research my next “shelf-filler” book at Scores and ask a stripper there for a “reference interview.” Considering my luck at the library last week, I have a feeling that might prove just as useful as going to the actual library—but it might be more fun!
As I said in the post, I’m pro-library. I hope there will always be libraries. But the response to my post has made me think about the way that libraries have changed in my lifetime, and how they might continue to change.
When I was a kid, libraries served three main purposes for me:
-They provided free books —books that I could’ve bought at the store, but the “free” price point is/was kind of a big deal.
-They were somewhere to go to have a quiet place to read.
-They helped me track down information that could not be easily found anywhere else.
Aside from the fact that lots of readers would rather loiter with books within the confines of a quiet Barnes & Nobles (which has a much better selection of Spanish textbooks than the NYPL), libraries still serve these purposes for many people, and I hope they will for a longtime. However, times have seriously changed. If someone had said to us library-lovers twenty years ago that, one day, every library would have a relatively inexpensive machine that could access millions of books, journals, magazines, etc., and even print them on demand, I think we all would’ve been pretty psyched. Well, we have that technology and ability now. This has led to many fantastic advances and has also brought about new issues. I’ve read a lot about librarians who are working to find ways to archive and classify information that might only ever exist digitally. (I enjoyed this recent Times article about Emory University’s work to archive Salman Rushdie’s computer files). But I’ve also read plenty that makes it clear that many library-lovers perceive the Internet as more of a threat to books than as a boon to knowledge as a whole. We are living in a time of major transition in how we get information, and I think that libraries straddle the new world and the old one. Books will always have their place and thank god there are people dedicating their lives to sorting them and preserving them and providing access (to people with their cards, that is). But that doesn’t mean that the whole library system doesn’t need to be turned on its head.
What if the NYPL were somewhere to go to get books printed on demand? What if it was all largely run by mail, like Netflix, with everything shipping from one place? (At the moment when I request a library book online, it gets shipped from one branch to another and then I have to go pick it up—I imagine that eventually this system will be streamlined so that it’d cost less time and money on all ends).
A Netflix-like system would also mean that less space would have to be given over to physical buildings; this could mean more money set aside to have more librarians work one-on-one with people looking for information. Thanks to the Internet, information has never been more available to us. Libraries might be more useful if they were places people could go to work one-on-one with librarians who have learned to navigate the web’s mixed up mass of information better than most of us. What if librarians acted as Internet concierges? Take that Spanish book I was looking for: I bet there are great Spanish textbooks somewhere on the Internet, and I bet that a good librarian could help me track down those sorts of places online. If these resources are normally expensive (like books can be at stores), the library could be a place to get the same information for free (like books are at the library). Or else, maybe the librarian could help me find other resources for learning Spanish in New York City. A librarian’s role could really be that of an editor: finding good information and helping people get access to it, no matter what the medium.
Anyway, these are just my daydreams. I’m not a researcher of such things nor am I very well informed about what it’s like to work as a librarian or to be on the municipal side of things. I’m just a library user.
To respond to a few of the questions posed in emails and in comments:
-I left home without ID because I lost my wallet. Or maybe it was stolen. I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to get a new license but the DMV site keeps hiccuping. Had I planned to go to the library, I would’ve brought my passport. But it was an impromptu visit. I had my credit card, my datebook, my notebook, my insurance card and my phone. I know none of these may be “official” ID but I figure it’s enough to keep me out of Potter’s Field should I be hacked to pieces by one of my husband’s crazy online fanboy stalker trolls.
-I understand that the librarians were not really at fault here. They were just following the rules. However, the rules don’t make sense to me. I’m not saying they’re evil or idiotic, and I’m not going to try to change the rules or break them or bend them. But I think it’s fair to say that I don’t see their value. DrunkenScholar says that the physical library card is important precisely because people can use one another’s when need be. DS writes:
People loan their library cards out to others all the time. If you want to take responsibility for others checking items out on your card, that isn’t the NYPL’s business. And it isn’t their responsibility to try and police such behavior. If you don’t have your card and don’t have a state issued picture ID to prove who you are, then you shouldn’t be able to access the account.
So this means that if the person who stole or found my wallet wanted to go to the library and use my card, they could, because the library would figure I gave it to him? Why wouldn’t the librarian insist he get his own card? What you’re saying is that if he were standing behind me with the card —which, remember, has nothing more than a number on it—he could take a book out from my account, but if I were there next to him, I wouldn’t be able to check a book out from my account? Even if I had other ID and knew all the information about myself that I imagine exists somewhere in the NYPL system? Including my PIN number and the library card number? DrunkenScholar also says:
We protect each patron’s info and activity like it’s a state secret- even from significant others. If you’re 18, then it’s no one’s business but your own what is checked out on your account. The reason for this is simple. If an abused wife wants to come to her library and get info on the sly on how to get a quick divorce, it’s none of the husband’s business, and as a library they certainly don’t want to get involved nor should they have to.
Sure, that all makes sense to me. But what doesn’t make sense to me is that you’re saying it’d be okay if my husband took my card without my asking and used it to check out books. So he could do that, but he wouldn’t be able to access a record of other books I’ve looked at? But, if I gave him my card, wouldn’t that imply it was okay for him to look at other books I checked out? I just don’t really follow.
Someone also made the point that knowing my card number and PIN number is meaningless without the card. I disagree. I’ve bought many things over the phone and online using just my credit card number and the expiration date. Basically, I just don’t see why there isn’t a way for a librarian to mark a book as loaned inside someone’s account if they are taking out a minimal amount of books. Stealing books from the library is easy enough to do. You can set up a fake account pretty easily, I bet. Or you can just check out and not bring the books back. Or you can just walk out with your loot and sneak them by the sensor or guard at the door (if there is one or the other—often libraries I’ve been to have neither). If you’re going to be really dishonest about the whole thing, seems silly to try to bother having a conversation with the librarian to begin with.
Yes, we’re talking about a large municipal system that doesn’t make room for these kind of cases. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
