My friend over at Billy Ockham asked that question recently, and I replied with an off-the-cuff (amusing) answer. I said we had to have a sense of humor because otherwise we'd go insane when someone (I'm looking at YOU, Google Books) tried to catalog Jane Eyre in Architecture. But I've been thinking about it, and wanted to actually comment with a little more thought and seriousness.
I read a lot of blogs. And one blog I find side-achingly funny is the Midwest Conservative Journal. He's got a rapier wit and can skewer a news story with awesome commentary, or write a bit of fiction that is worthy of Douglas Adams. And he's a librarian! I'm also on several library listservs - one for the Association of Christian Librarians, and two through the Association of College and Research Librarians. Now, most of the content is typical library stuff, but often we - ahem - digress. Stories about wild animals loose in the building. Wonderfully brilliant satire. Off hand comments leading to a treasure trove of one-liners and witty repartee. And of those many comments, it's not just one or two comedians making everyone laugh... it's most of the regular contributors!
I am part of other groups, and read lots of other blogs. But there's a really high concentration of witty folk out there in library land. So why is that?
Yes, I have a hypothesis - it's a vast oversimplification, but a hypothesis nonetheless. We can be funny because we love books. And we love books, in part, because we love to read. And because we love books and love to read, we're quite literate. (I mean that in a very broad sense - not just in the sense that we can read at a certain grade level.) So when we get to telling stories, we can do it well. And because we're literate, we can do it well in writing. And in my case, and possibly others, I tell stories *better* online than I do in person because I'm the quintessential librarian introvert! We can easily dip into Tolkien's vast "Cauldron of Story" and pull out bits that seem good because we've been steeped in that literary tradition. We've read good literature, and good history, and good writing on an amazing spectrum of other subjects, from science and engineering to philosophy and criticism. And we've read bad writing too, but because we've read *good* writing too we can tell the difference!
So when we write, whether about rogue wildlife or Anglican investigators, we tell our stories well. Because we've learned how to do it by reading so much of others' writing.
Of course, there are lots of people out there who are not librarians but who also love books and love to read and are also very witty... like the Joneses, for example. So that leads me to believe that anyone who loves books and loves to read .... can write well! So read, darn it, read! Yay, BOOKS! ::librarian cheer::
Showing posts with label Library. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Library. Show all posts
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Am I a Luddite?
This may turn out to be a deep, cranky post. Or not.
I just attended a webinar. (I hate that word.) It was an overview of a presentation at a library conference I couldn't attend, so I suppose I should be glad I could get the content at all. I just wish they'd come up with a better word!
Anyway, it was called Tech Trends 2010... about new and emerging technologies and how libraries can tap into them. There was a lot of talk about iPhone apps, and smart phone apps, and mobile apps, and .... well. Apps. There were phrases like "augmented reality" and "you can annotate the physical world, virtually" and "you can log in to the place where you are." And of course there was talk about ebooks and ereaders and twitter and hulu and netflix and ... yeah.
I was one of about 50 folks participating. We were logged into GoToMeeting with a mike and a headset, watching powerpoint presentations and listening to the speakers and making comments and asking questions in a chat box. All good. Without this technology, I never would've gotten this content.
All four speakers automatically assumed that we all had smart phones, and spent hours a day with our eyes glued to the tiny little screen. They talked about being in the mall and having the ability to look up where the nearest libraries are and search their catalogs and see if they have a book. They talked about this application called Foursquare, where you tell your friends in Foursquare when you go somewhere with your iPhone. And win badges (which I suppose you look at and say, "I have this badge now!"). I think I agree with another participant - sounds like something a stalker would use! There's this other thing where you can take real photographs and add digital content (like a real picture of Abbey Road with a digital pic of the Beatles walking across it).
Here's where they lost me. How do these bits of technology actually improve my life? If I want to go to a library and check out a book, I'll go to the library. And I really don't want my "friends" to know that I've just gone into Piggly Wiggly. If I want to jump rope, I'll get a jumprope and, well, jump rope. I don't need a Wii to do that. I have a nice cell phone where I can call people and talk to them. I think it even has an alarm clock. But if I want to go online, I have a computer at home for that. Someone said recently that cell phone developers are all 20-year-olds. They must be, because they definitely don't take my 40-year-old eyes into account! Sorry.... that almost devolved into a rant. ::ahem::
But since I'm on a roll, I don't get Twitter, either. Though I do have a blog (obviously). Does that mean I just like stuff that gives me more than 140 characters to say what I want to say? And I have some other social media connections, like Facebook , and LibraryThing, and my newest favorite Delicious. But they all serve a practical purpose. I've reconnected with several good friends lost long ago on Facebook (though I draw the line at apps and games). I used LibraryThing to catalog our entire book collection (complete with call numbers). And I use Delicious to create a moveable, usable, portable list of bookmarks so I can log in and use it on any computer. So I embrace technology, at least the stuff that seems sensible and reasonable and practical and, well.... useful.
I spend ten or more hours a day in front of a computer at work. I don't one strapped to my hip the rest of my waking life. I want to be able to unplug on the weekends, and in the evening. So does this schizophrenic attitude towards technology and web 2.0 make me a Luddite?
I just attended a webinar. (I hate that word.) It was an overview of a presentation at a library conference I couldn't attend, so I suppose I should be glad I could get the content at all. I just wish they'd come up with a better word!
Anyway, it was called Tech Trends 2010... about new and emerging technologies and how libraries can tap into them. There was a lot of talk about iPhone apps, and smart phone apps, and mobile apps, and .... well. Apps. There were phrases like "augmented reality" and "you can annotate the physical world, virtually" and "you can log in to the place where you are." And of course there was talk about ebooks and ereaders and twitter and hulu and netflix and ... yeah.
I was one of about 50 folks participating. We were logged into GoToMeeting with a mike and a headset, watching powerpoint presentations and listening to the speakers and making comments and asking questions in a chat box. All good. Without this technology, I never would've gotten this content.
All four speakers automatically assumed that we all had smart phones, and spent hours a day with our eyes glued to the tiny little screen. They talked about being in the mall and having the ability to look up where the nearest libraries are and search their catalogs and see if they have a book. They talked about this application called Foursquare, where you tell your friends in Foursquare when you go somewhere with your iPhone. And win badges (which I suppose you look at and say, "I have this badge now!"). I think I agree with another participant - sounds like something a stalker would use! There's this other thing where you can take real photographs and add digital content (like a real picture of Abbey Road with a digital pic of the Beatles walking across it).
Here's where they lost me. How do these bits of technology actually improve my life? If I want to go to a library and check out a book, I'll go to the library. And I really don't want my "friends" to know that I've just gone into Piggly Wiggly. If I want to jump rope, I'll get a jumprope and, well, jump rope. I don't need a Wii to do that. I have a nice cell phone where I can call people and talk to them. I think it even has an alarm clock. But if I want to go online, I have a computer at home for that. Someone said recently that cell phone developers are all 20-year-olds. They must be, because they definitely don't take my 40-year-old eyes into account! Sorry.... that almost devolved into a rant. ::ahem::
But since I'm on a roll, I don't get Twitter, either. Though I do have a blog (obviously). Does that mean I just like stuff that gives me more than 140 characters to say what I want to say? And I have some other social media connections, like Facebook , and LibraryThing, and my newest favorite Delicious. But they all serve a practical purpose. I've reconnected with several good friends lost long ago on Facebook (though I draw the line at apps and games). I used LibraryThing to catalog our entire book collection (complete with call numbers). And I use Delicious to create a moveable, usable, portable list of bookmarks so I can log in and use it on any computer. So I embrace technology, at least the stuff that seems sensible and reasonable and practical and, well.... useful.
I spend ten or more hours a day in front of a computer at work. I don't one strapped to my hip the rest of my waking life. I want to be able to unplug on the weekends, and in the evening. So does this schizophrenic attitude towards technology and web 2.0 make me a Luddite?
Thursday, April 23, 2009
What Librarians Wish Publishers Knew
OK, I'll call this a shameless plug. Read THIS. ::grin:: It's a brochure created by my favorite library comic strip Unshelved. They spent a large amount of time soliciting opinions from readers, booksellers, and librarians for comments on things they wished they could tell publishers. Then they illustrated it, and will be distributing it to publishers and all other unsundry takers at BookExpo America.
My favorite? "The cover artist should read the book!"
(And I promise you, there are some atrocious covers out there, especially among the philosophy books. I mean really, do you want to read a book on Neoplatonism that has an aqua blue and lime green abstract cover? Blech!)
My favorite? "The cover artist should read the book!"
(And I promise you, there are some atrocious covers out there, especially among the philosophy books. I mean really, do you want to read a book on Neoplatonism that has an aqua blue and lime green abstract cover? Blech!)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
This is Really Cool
I'm a nerd. Have I mentioned that? I'm also a librarian, which means I get really psyched when libraries do really cool things that combine antique texts integral to the book world and high-tech technology.
Today I discovered that the 1640 Bay Psalm Book (the first book printed in British North America) has been made available free online. The book itself is housed at the Boston Public Library, but it is owned by the Old South Church. And it's not just in the old boring pdf-style, but in a new flash-based digitized version where you turn the pages and it's in full color. It uses a system called the Earlybook Imaging System, where you can do all sorts of book imaging that used to be severely damaging to brittle texts.
So go here and check it out!
Today I discovered that the 1640 Bay Psalm Book (the first book printed in British North America) has been made available free online. The book itself is housed at the Boston Public Library, but it is owned by the Old South Church. And it's not just in the old boring pdf-style, but in a new flash-based digitized version where you turn the pages and it's in full color. It uses a system called the Earlybook Imaging System, where you can do all sorts of book imaging that used to be severely damaging to brittle texts.
So go here and check it out!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Can an antelope be a document?
This is a nerdy, librarian-type post. Consider yourself warned. ::grin::
Suzanne Briet, one of the founding presences behind modern day imformation studies programs, once posed the question, "Can an antelope be a document?" in her article/pamphlet called What is Documentation?. I won't go into all the gory details, but that argument has stayed with me since I read it at FSU. She is essentially stating that a document is evidence in support of a fact. Paul Otlet, writing slightly before Briet, said that you can have information (documentation) about objects, but the objects themselves become documents if you are informed by observing them. So... if you have a map, can it be a document? (Yes.) If you have a photograph can it be a document? (Definitely.) If you have a dinosaur bone, is that a document... does that inform us? (Yes, ask any museum curator!) Well, if a dinosaur bone is a document, can an animal in a zoo, say... an antelope.. be one? (If the zoo = the museum, then doesn't the antelope = the dinosaur bone?) If you're really interested in this, I recommend Michael Buckland's treatment of the argument here which he calls "information-as-thing."
I find this incredibly intriguing, and for 1951, it was amazingly farsighted. We catalog things now that don't even exist in the real "brick and mortar" world - electronic resources and video and all kinds of stuff. And we do that because we are informed by these bits and bytes that flash across our computer screen. So I was deeply reminded of Otlet and Briet's arguments when I saw this story on Wired's website: Browse the Artifacts of Geek History. There are books, of course, but they're covered in precious gems. And there's a Sputnik rocket. Dinosaur skeletons. An Enigma machine. Escher-like woodwork. A hand-painted book on dwarves, embellished with gold and silver. I could spend weeks in this library and never be bored!
But it got me thinking. In the library field, they're known as "realia." Which is quite a dry and dusty term for all these amazing objects that you can see and touch and manipulate. For Briet and Otlet, these items speak for themselves. We can have - and should have - books and papers telling us about each one (and many in this collection have just that!) I can read all about the Soviet Sputnik program, and how the Germans used the Enigma machine to send coded messages to their submarines in World War II. I can look at books of anatomy and physiology about dinosaurs and human brains. I can even read a book about rare books (doesn't that seem like a contradiction?), hand painted and studded with jewels. But all of those resources - however valuable - simply pales in comparison to being in a place where you can touch a skeleton. And hold a meteorite. And tap a code into a machine. And feel the rubies and brush strokes of a 16th century book on jousting.
What does that say about me? I'm not really sure, but I think I'd prefer antelopes to electrons any day!
Suzanne Briet, one of the founding presences behind modern day imformation studies programs, once posed the question, "Can an antelope be a document?" in her article/pamphlet called What is Documentation?. I won't go into all the gory details, but that argument has stayed with me since I read it at FSU. She is essentially stating that a document is evidence in support of a fact. Paul Otlet, writing slightly before Briet, said that you can have information (documentation) about objects, but the objects themselves become documents if you are informed by observing them. So... if you have a map, can it be a document? (Yes.) If you have a photograph can it be a document? (Definitely.) If you have a dinosaur bone, is that a document... does that inform us? (Yes, ask any museum curator!) Well, if a dinosaur bone is a document, can an animal in a zoo, say... an antelope.. be one? (If the zoo = the museum, then doesn't the antelope = the dinosaur bone?) If you're really interested in this, I recommend Michael Buckland's treatment of the argument here which he calls "information-as-thing."
I find this incredibly intriguing, and for 1951, it was amazingly farsighted. We catalog things now that don't even exist in the real "brick and mortar" world - electronic resources and video and all kinds of stuff. And we do that because we are informed by these bits and bytes that flash across our computer screen. So I was deeply reminded of Otlet and Briet's arguments when I saw this story on Wired's website: Browse the Artifacts of Geek History. There are books, of course, but they're covered in precious gems. And there's a Sputnik rocket. Dinosaur skeletons. An Enigma machine. Escher-like woodwork. A hand-painted book on dwarves, embellished with gold and silver. I could spend weeks in this library and never be bored!
But it got me thinking. In the library field, they're known as "realia." Which is quite a dry and dusty term for all these amazing objects that you can see and touch and manipulate. For Briet and Otlet, these items speak for themselves. We can have - and should have - books and papers telling us about each one (and many in this collection have just that!) I can read all about the Soviet Sputnik program, and how the Germans used the Enigma machine to send coded messages to their submarines in World War II. I can look at books of anatomy and physiology about dinosaurs and human brains. I can even read a book about rare books (doesn't that seem like a contradiction?), hand painted and studded with jewels. But all of those resources - however valuable - simply pales in comparison to being in a place where you can touch a skeleton. And hold a meteorite. And tap a code into a machine. And feel the rubies and brush strokes of a 16th century book on jousting.
What does that say about me? I'm not really sure, but I think I'd prefer antelopes to electrons any day!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Pimp My Booktruck
The coolest comic about a library (OK, the *only* comic about a library) has a yearly contest called "Pimp My Booktruck." I have a really beat-up book cart here at my library. It could really use some ... unique ... detailing. But my creative juices are at a low ebb right now, so I thought I'd solicit some ideas from my friends, family, and other assorted blog visitors. You can visit the site linked above and see this year's entries so far, and can look at the winners from past years. I don't think I stand a chance against some of the carts I saw but, heck, it could be fun anyway!
Some key points:
It should be literary, in some vague form or fashion. It should be really funny. And it should remain family-friendly. I keep trying to come up with a "Helm's Deep" or a "Orthanc" or a "Monster Book of Monsters" cart, though it's entirely inconceivable to me how to pull something like that off. So above all, it should be do-able by a librarian working alone on ten-hour days. Who isn't really gifted in the area of arts and crafts (unless my graphics arts designer sister-in-law comes up for a weekend?) Most winners have been public or high school libraries. We in higher education should stand up and be noticed! Who's with me??!?
Some key points:
It should be literary, in some vague form or fashion. It should be really funny. And it should remain family-friendly. I keep trying to come up with a "Helm's Deep" or a "Orthanc" or a "Monster Book of Monsters" cart, though it's entirely inconceivable to me how to pull something like that off. So above all, it should be do-able by a librarian working alone on ten-hour days. Who isn't really gifted in the area of arts and crafts (unless my graphics arts designer sister-in-law comes up for a weekend?) Most winners have been public or high school libraries. We in higher education should stand up and be noticed! Who's with me??!?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A Day in the Life
Well, here I am. All set up in the brand new library in the brand new building on the brand new branch campus of the college where I work. Fancy new computers and StarBoards in every classroom, new furniture and bookshelves.... and books from the main campus library dating back 30 years or more. Sigh. They didn't plan for a book budget for the library, so I had to go through the main branch and pull "copy twos" to transfer up here. At least my stacks are not completely empty! Though, perhaps, it is a good thing that I don't have many books. They only sent me 15 sections of library shelving. I was supposed to get 28. So the library has a good bit of echo in it, as I rattle around in the empty room. ::heh::
As if setting up a new facility isn't enough, I also agreed to teach two 10-week classes. Those of you who know me, please pick your jaw up off the floor. Yes, I am Teaching. Two. Classes. Thinking about a roomful of thirty students expecting me to know what I'm doing has stirred up the butterflies quite fiercely. And it's not even a library instruction class - it's two sections of "Orientation to College", something akin to a Freshman Seminar teaching good study habits and time management and where the buisness office is. I try to think of it as a way to connect with some of the students, many who will come before my desk in the library at some point desperately seeking help on a research project, or at least asking me to show them how to use the catalog.
I have the shiny new laptop here on my desk, which I will soon have to take down the hall to my classroom and hook it up to the StarBoard. The Board was only installed this morning, so no one is quite sure if it even works properly. I don't plan to use it for anything, but I have to run the laptop through it if I want to connect to the internet. And if I want to show my students the new Blackboard interface for our online coursework, I need to connect to the internet. Otherwise I will have to stand there and say, "Close your eyes. Invision a computer screen!" Right now the gallumphing butterflies in my belly are convincing me without a doubt that this is exactly what is going to happen.
I never thought of myself as a teacher. I am far too self-depreciating, and nowhere near thick-skinned enough to deal with cranky students on a daily basis. I watch my professor husband with awe as he (seemingly) effortlessly works on his classes. I say "seemingly", because really, he put huge amounts of effort into every class he's ever taught, both in preparation and grading as well as student interaction. My objectives are nowhere near as lofty as his, and for that I am insanely grateful.
So my "first day of class" continues, and I look forward to the end of my first ten-hour day with joy and abandon. I plan to go home, kick off the shoes, have a cup of tea and some tomato soup, and watch some meaningless television. Heck, I may even watch GhostHunters!
As if setting up a new facility isn't enough, I also agreed to teach two 10-week classes. Those of you who know me, please pick your jaw up off the floor. Yes, I am Teaching. Two. Classes. Thinking about a roomful of thirty students expecting me to know what I'm doing has stirred up the butterflies quite fiercely. And it's not even a library instruction class - it's two sections of "Orientation to College", something akin to a Freshman Seminar teaching good study habits and time management and where the buisness office is. I try to think of it as a way to connect with some of the students, many who will come before my desk in the library at some point desperately seeking help on a research project, or at least asking me to show them how to use the catalog.
I have the shiny new laptop here on my desk, which I will soon have to take down the hall to my classroom and hook it up to the StarBoard. The Board was only installed this morning, so no one is quite sure if it even works properly. I don't plan to use it for anything, but I have to run the laptop through it if I want to connect to the internet. And if I want to show my students the new Blackboard interface for our online coursework, I need to connect to the internet. Otherwise I will have to stand there and say, "Close your eyes. Invision a computer screen!" Right now the gallumphing butterflies in my belly are convincing me without a doubt that this is exactly what is going to happen.
I never thought of myself as a teacher. I am far too self-depreciating, and nowhere near thick-skinned enough to deal with cranky students on a daily basis. I watch my professor husband with awe as he (seemingly) effortlessly works on his classes. I say "seemingly", because really, he put huge amounts of effort into every class he's ever taught, both in preparation and grading as well as student interaction. My objectives are nowhere near as lofty as his, and for that I am insanely grateful.
So my "first day of class" continues, and I look forward to the end of my first ten-hour day with joy and abandon. I plan to go home, kick off the shoes, have a cup of tea and some tomato soup, and watch some meaningless television. Heck, I may even watch GhostHunters!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Cats in the belfry...
Check this out...
I wonder how many community college libraries have a friendly feline? I couldn't bring MY cat (spawn of Satan that she is, she would shred patrons' socks and cough up hairballs in the reference department) but a nice sweet kitty like the one in this article would be just perfect!
Hm. Now, how do I pitch this to my boss?? ::grin::
I wonder how many community college libraries have a friendly feline? I couldn't bring MY cat (spawn of Satan that she is, she would shred patrons' socks and cough up hairballs in the reference department) but a nice sweet kitty like the one in this article would be just perfect!
Hm. Now, how do I pitch this to my boss?? ::grin::
Friday, July 18, 2008
Vegetable bribery?
Well - this is a first. Today during my library shift I helped this very nice lady find some books on nutrition. She was very energetic, and excited that we had a large selection (we have a nursing program so most of what we have is more technically-oriented than for a layman's consumption). She had a very thick accent, and so it was a bit of struggle for both of us at first to figure out what each other was saying. Finally, we got to the section she was looking for, and I had to leave her there because I was the only one working the front desk and had someone else waiting.
She came down with an armload of books, ranging from a juicing guide to a nursing-and-nutrition title. She thanked me profusely and headed out the door. Just minutes later she popped back in with a bag, and proceeded to hand me some tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. "I have a garden, and I have enough to share! Thank you so much! I will bring you more when I bring back your books!" I gave her my heartfelt thanks and told her it really wasn't necessary to bring more vegetables, but she said "No, you helped me! I will bring more!" So how do you handle a patron who insists on bribing you with fresh vegetables??!? ::haha::
Our college has a very strict policy about accepting gifts from vendors and other "people of influence", but I don't think patrons count. And on the whole I thought it would be quite rude to turn down this kind lady's offer, and I must admit if she brings some zucchini I couldn't say no to that either. 8-)
She came down with an armload of books, ranging from a juicing guide to a nursing-and-nutrition title. She thanked me profusely and headed out the door. Just minutes later she popped back in with a bag, and proceeded to hand me some tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. "I have a garden, and I have enough to share! Thank you so much! I will bring you more when I bring back your books!" I gave her my heartfelt thanks and told her it really wasn't necessary to bring more vegetables, but she said "No, you helped me! I will bring more!" So how do you handle a patron who insists on bribing you with fresh vegetables??!? ::haha::
Our college has a very strict policy about accepting gifts from vendors and other "people of influence", but I don't think patrons count. And on the whole I thought it would be quite rude to turn down this kind lady's offer, and I must admit if she brings some zucchini I couldn't say no to that either. 8-)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Website Certification
I admit, this is another of those dry, dusty librarian posts. But - if you've ever tried to find reliable information on the web - this just might interest you too!
The Chronicle of Higher Education published an article called "Certifying Online Research" on June 6, 2008. It initially talks about faculty members seeking tenure with a publication record consisting mainly of work done online (rather than in the typical scholarly print journals). The author (a dean at Illinois State University) suggests a voluntary certification process for scholars who publish their research in website form. It would require that major professional organizations in each academic discipline form a review committee where, for a nominal fee, scholars can send their site to be scrutinized and vetted. Then if it meets the appropriate standards, it can display a certification symbol assigned by the organzation.
Thinking beyond faculty tenure, if a plan like this were broadly implemented then it could actually change the way we academic librarians view the internet. We see it as an evil, for the most part, encouraging students to attend to scholarly databases and other sources for valid and verifiable information. But if students could Google "Aristotle's Ethics" and be rewarded with sites certified by the American Philosophical Society, that would be just as valid as digging up dusty copies of Phronesis or the Journal of the History of Philosophy.
Cool, huh??
The Chronicle of Higher Education published an article called "Certifying Online Research" on June 6, 2008. It initially talks about faculty members seeking tenure with a publication record consisting mainly of work done online (rather than in the typical scholarly print journals). The author (a dean at Illinois State University) suggests a voluntary certification process for scholars who publish their research in website form. It would require that major professional organizations in each academic discipline form a review committee where, for a nominal fee, scholars can send their site to be scrutinized and vetted. Then if it meets the appropriate standards, it can display a certification symbol assigned by the organzation.
Thinking beyond faculty tenure, if a plan like this were broadly implemented then it could actually change the way we academic librarians view the internet. We see it as an evil, for the most part, encouraging students to attend to scholarly databases and other sources for valid and verifiable information. But if students could Google "Aristotle's Ethics" and be rewarded with sites certified by the American Philosophical Society, that would be just as valid as digging up dusty copies of Phronesis or the Journal of the History of Philosophy.
Cool, huh??
Monday, May 5, 2008
Do Not Feed the Librarian
I'm a librarian trapped in a circulation desk clerk's body. Most days I mindlessly check books out and reshelve those books that students have returned. Apparently being seated at the circulation desk places a visible-only-to-students sign over my head that reads "Do not feed. Do not ask reference questions." So not only do I receive no share of anyone's tasty treats (and what it is about finals that prompts students to bring in cookies by the truckload?) but I also rarely get to answer any interesting questions aside from "How much does it cost to print?" and "Where are the bathrooms?" At the Reference Desk at my former library job there was a badge that read "Ask me! Human Search Engine!" Although I hope the students here don't treat me like a computer, it is rather nice when I do get asked a question that actually requires me to put the gray matter to some use.
This is all about to change. I am being transferred (at my request, lest ye start to worry) to the new branch campus that is opening this fall. Brand new building. Brand new library. I don't know what my official title will be (other than "E-Schedule Staff") but I will be, to put it bluntly, in charge. I will no longer be "the circulation clerk". I will be the Librarian (for all intents and purposes). The college isn't promoting me (yet) to actual faculty status, though if we stay in the area for a couple of years I have no doubt that it will happen (due to SACS regulations regarding number of students requiring a full time librarian).
So what is actually happening is that I'm willing to be "taken advantage of" financially in order to be a branch director. Of course, it's all a matter of semantics. I'm a librarian now. Got the Masters on the wall to prove it. But here at the main branch I'm "low man on the totem pole". I work evenings. I haven't been here twenty years, so how can I possibly have any notion of what it means to work in a library? [off sarcasm] At the Cherokee Campus I will be the Librarian. I will get asked the questions. And assist students with their research. And order the books. (Alas, no cataloging - that will still be done on the main campus). The best part, you ask? It's a four-day work week. ::grin::
One of the evening part-timers and I will often chat when I get back from dinner. She gave me some good advice (if advice is what you call it). She told me that these months working here at the main branch are God's way of humbling me. Reminding me that I should look for no praise or glory on this world; that my reward will come in heaven. That ultimately whatever degree or position I have is not that important as long as I do my job well. And that when I am the "old timer" many years from now, I can use this time as a negative example. And you know what? She's right. If I ever have a staff of folks working for me, I know what kind of work environment is not conducive to a happy staff and getting things accomplished. So I've learned a lot about myself and about management styles (but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it!) And I also know that God's refining fire will continue to burn as I struggle to follow the path set for me. And I have to think that this transfer is part of that plan, and that's a Good Thing.
Some folks around here like to joke that getting transferred to a branch campus is equivalent to being banished. If so, I'm really looking forward to Banishment Day!
This is all about to change. I am being transferred (at my request, lest ye start to worry) to the new branch campus that is opening this fall. Brand new building. Brand new library. I don't know what my official title will be (other than "E-Schedule Staff") but I will be, to put it bluntly, in charge. I will no longer be "the circulation clerk". I will be the Librarian (for all intents and purposes). The college isn't promoting me (yet) to actual faculty status, though if we stay in the area for a couple of years I have no doubt that it will happen (due to SACS regulations regarding number of students requiring a full time librarian).
So what is actually happening is that I'm willing to be "taken advantage of" financially in order to be a branch director. Of course, it's all a matter of semantics. I'm a librarian now. Got the Masters on the wall to prove it. But here at the main branch I'm "low man on the totem pole". I work evenings. I haven't been here twenty years, so how can I possibly have any notion of what it means to work in a library? [off sarcasm] At the Cherokee Campus I will be the Librarian. I will get asked the questions. And assist students with their research. And order the books. (Alas, no cataloging - that will still be done on the main campus). The best part, you ask? It's a four-day work week. ::grin::
One of the evening part-timers and I will often chat when I get back from dinner. She gave me some good advice (if advice is what you call it). She told me that these months working here at the main branch are God's way of humbling me. Reminding me that I should look for no praise or glory on this world; that my reward will come in heaven. That ultimately whatever degree or position I have is not that important as long as I do my job well. And that when I am the "old timer" many years from now, I can use this time as a negative example. And you know what? She's right. If I ever have a staff of folks working for me, I know what kind of work environment is not conducive to a happy staff and getting things accomplished. So I've learned a lot about myself and about management styles (but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it!) And I also know that God's refining fire will continue to burn as I struggle to follow the path set for me. And I have to think that this transfer is part of that plan, and that's a Good Thing.
Some folks around here like to joke that getting transferred to a branch campus is equivalent to being banished. If so, I'm really looking forward to Banishment Day!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I Have Issues
OK, this is a really nerdy cataloger/librarian post. If any nerdy catalogers (like me) read this and have answers, I'm all ears! And if you're not a nerdy cataloger, I welcome your opinions too - if you can slog thru my jargon, which I'll try to keep to a minimum. I have two issues with assigning call numbers in the Library of Congress classification scheme. (That's the scheme most college and university libraries use.) I probably have way more issues than just two, but two is all I will talk about tonight.
First Issue: The LC scheme typically cutters a fiction series by author then title, not by author then volume number. Which means the books end up on the shelves in alphabetical order, not in the order the series should be read. If you're familiar with the way a call number looks, you have the first letters and numbers (before the decimal) which sends you to the correct subject. The second part (the first group after the decimal) is usually the cutter number for the author (it's based on a table, and allows a cataloger to assign a set number for every author's name). Then, for fiction, the last group is the cutter for the title. The first set of numbers below are ones I created. The second set are existing numbers for a different series of books. Now, as a patron, would you know which book to read first if you were interested in the two series below???
PZ7 .R79835 Har v. 1
PZ7 .R79835 Har v. 2
PS3562 .A315 A56
PS3562 .A315 L44
I rest my case. Though I should admit that there is a lot of disparity in the way fiction series are done - I've just shelved a lot recently that have numbers like the second set above and it drives me to distraction. (Yes, I know. Short trip!)
Second Issue: This one's more complicated. As far as I can tell, books written in foreign languages are ???!!!?? classed in the general area where texts about that language go. And oftentimes if that book is TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, that English translation keeps the same call number. So a diary written in German about life in Germany during WWII is shelved with language books. HUH???????? In a mostly-English library (where we don't have many foreign language titles) that is just kooky (for many, many reasons). I think the translation - at the very least - should be reclassed where it goes as a subject.
Here's my example:
PC2064.K5 A3213 2003 This is the call number (ascribed by a national cataloging entity) for a book called The Lesser Evil, a diary of Victor Klemperer who was a Jew in Nazi Germany. If you look up on the "official" Library of Congress classification guide, that range of numbers (PC2001 to PC2600) is listed as Romanic Languages: French OK. The original book was written in GERMAN. There are three volumes in the diary series, and they're ALL listed in that class. Hello? Does anyone else think this is nuts? In fact, if you browse PC2064 by call number in the LoC catalog, you'll find books in several different languages... French (at least that makes sense!), Japanese, and German. I. Just. Don't. Get. It.
So, why wouldn't you:
a) if you're going to class the book by the original language, at least class it with the CORRECT language? (Germanic languages go under PD) and,
b) when it's translated into English, place it with the subject; in this case DS135, European History: Germany.
So, any catalogers out there have an answer for me? Any armchair librarians out there have an opinion? As a side note, I have two friends who are catalogers at the Library of Congress. I've emailed them to see what they think, and if they respond I'll let you know what they say.
UPDATE
So, here's the update. The book should go in History! It's only LITERATURE books that are classed with the original language. So books of or about literature originally written in French stay classed in the same place when they are translated into other languages. Which at least makes more sense than my initial supposition. The Library of Congress has the three volume set of Klemperer's book (as a single record, rather than the three separate records I listed above) classed in DS. Though apparently it's still a mystery how the separate volumes got stuck in the PCs. Another update will be forthcoming if a solution is ever presented!
First Issue: The LC scheme typically cutters a fiction series by author then title, not by author then volume number. Which means the books end up on the shelves in alphabetical order, not in the order the series should be read. If you're familiar with the way a call number looks, you have the first letters and numbers (before the decimal) which sends you to the correct subject. The second part (the first group after the decimal) is usually the cutter number for the author (it's based on a table, and allows a cataloger to assign a set number for every author's name). Then, for fiction, the last group is the cutter for the title. The first set of numbers below are ones I created. The second set are existing numbers for a different series of books. Now, as a patron, would you know which book to read first if you were interested in the two series below???
PZ7 .R79835 Har v. 1
PZ7 .R79835 Har v. 2
PS3562 .A315 A56
PS3562 .A315 L44
I rest my case. Though I should admit that there is a lot of disparity in the way fiction series are done - I've just shelved a lot recently that have numbers like the second set above and it drives me to distraction. (Yes, I know. Short trip!)
Second Issue: This one's more complicated. As far as I can tell, books written in foreign languages are ???!!!?? classed in the general area where texts about that language go. And oftentimes if that book is TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, that English translation keeps the same call number. So a diary written in German about life in Germany during WWII is shelved with language books. HUH???????? In a mostly-English library (where we don't have many foreign language titles) that is just kooky (for many, many reasons). I think the translation - at the very least - should be reclassed where it goes as a subject.
Here's my example:
PC2064.K5 A3213 2003 This is the call number (ascribed by a national cataloging entity) for a book called The Lesser Evil, a diary of Victor Klemperer who was a Jew in Nazi Germany. If you look up on the "official" Library of Congress classification guide, that range of numbers (PC2001 to PC2600) is listed as Romanic Languages: French OK. The original book was written in GERMAN. There are three volumes in the diary series, and they're ALL listed in that class. Hello? Does anyone else think this is nuts? In fact, if you browse PC2064 by call number in the LoC catalog, you'll find books in several different languages... French (at least that makes sense!), Japanese, and German. I. Just. Don't. Get. It.
So, why wouldn't you:
a) if you're going to class the book by the original language, at least class it with the CORRECT language? (Germanic languages go under PD) and,
b) when it's translated into English, place it with the subject; in this case DS135, European History: Germany.
So, any catalogers out there have an answer for me? Any armchair librarians out there have an opinion? As a side note, I have two friends who are catalogers at the Library of Congress. I've emailed them to see what they think, and if they respond I'll let you know what they say.
UPDATE
So, here's the update. The book should go in History! It's only LITERATURE books that are classed with the original language. So books of or about literature originally written in French stay classed in the same place when they are translated into other languages. Which at least makes more sense than my initial supposition. The Library of Congress has the three volume set of Klemperer's book (as a single record, rather than the three separate records I listed above) classed in DS. Though apparently it's still a mystery how the separate volumes got stuck in the PCs. Another update will be forthcoming if a solution is ever presented!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
LibraryThing
I know, I know ... those of you world-weary, long-time bloggers and book-loving, computer-savvy folk ... this is nothing new for you. In fact, I even distantly remember discussions about LibraryThing in comparison to other online book cataloguing sites. But for me (because I just discovered it) it's a Cool New Toy.
You'll notice if you scroll down a bit on my blog that I have a "From the Bookshelf" thingie on the left side. That's from my list of books at LibraryThing! (Though I wish I could take credit for the cool html coding that makes the book covers change every time you visit. Alas, LibraryThing assumes that folks don't all do computer kungfu and offer it to you in a nice, simple copy-and-paste version.)
You can share book lists, browse other's lists, find folks with similar interests, write reviews, and even - this is what sold me - link to the Library of Congress and add a call number to your list. And if you wanted to be even more nerdy, you can buy a scanner and scan your book barcodes in directly. Wow. I'm going to show this to the philosopher... {{wicked grin}} ...this will put his excel spreadsheet to shame.
You'll notice if you scroll down a bit on my blog that I have a "From the Bookshelf" thingie on the left side. That's from my list of books at LibraryThing! (Though I wish I could take credit for the cool html coding that makes the book covers change every time you visit. Alas, LibraryThing assumes that folks don't all do computer kungfu and offer it to you in a nice, simple copy-and-paste version.)
You can share book lists, browse other's lists, find folks with similar interests, write reviews, and even - this is what sold me - link to the Library of Congress and add a call number to your list. And if you wanted to be even more nerdy, you can buy a scanner and scan your book barcodes in directly. Wow. I'm going to show this to the philosopher... {{wicked grin}} ...this will put his excel spreadsheet to shame.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Revenge of the Refrigerator
Behold the bane of every office breakroom! The focus and receptacle of so many science experiments gone bad... the scourge of clean-freaks everywhere... it lurks in the corner daring some brave soul to explore its hidden depths and peer beyond the front row of leftover lunches. Indeed, I am starkly reminded of Douglas Adam's fine literary masterpiece The Long, Dark Tea-time of the Soul , in which the hero finds himself battling with his cleaning lady about who will open the refrigerator first for fear of what could be growing within.
What? You haven't read it? You should! The first book in that series is Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency , and if you've never read anything at all by Douglas Adams, here's a bit of his most popular book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and here's a bit about Adams himself (written in Adam's own style).
But I digress. I was talking about staffroom refrigerators. Now why, you may be asking, why on earth would this subject be the focus of my (rather boring and often literary) blog? Well... let's put it this way. Tonight I removed my tidy lunch bag from the staffroom refrigerator, and was happily eating my grilled chicken and salad. A colleague comes in, searching for a packet of dressing for a salad of her own. (May I interject here that we're not all such healthy eaters? More often than not the favorite lunch spot is the Jacks burger joint across the street. But I digress again.)
There are many packets of dressing, and bits of other - quite unidentifiable - things in the crisper. Alas, however, my colleague discovered that nothing within had an expiration date later than... June 2007. So what did two librarians - committed to archiving and preserving all things of value - do? We chunked 'em in the closest trash recptacle! But that is not the end of the saga. Upon a more careful but still determinedly cursory inspection, I discovered a half-gallon of orange juice tucked far away in the back corner. It looked ... odd ... upon closer review. Lumpy, one might even venture to say. Most decidedly NOT the way vitamin-rich, healthy orange juice should appear. I hooked a finger around the handle and carefully slid it toward me. The date, there in bold, black, ink-stamped numbers, proudly stated "Expires 1/28/07". No, friends, that is not a typo. This OJ was more than a year out of date, and slopped slugglishly within its plastic prison, as though seeking a means of escape in order to release deadly and hithertofore undiscovered toxins into the air.
Tomorrow I may catch holy terror from other members of the staff for daring to remove one precious (yesss, my precioussss) item from the holy of holies. But I feared for my life tonight, and that takes precedence over the verbal drubbing I may receive tomorrow.
In closing I implore you, gentle readers all, during this season of Lent to examine your lives, and discern whether or not you may unknowingly be contributing to the culture of lawlessness in your own staffroom 'fridge. And if you are, with deep regret and penitence for your misdeeds, remove the offending material from behind your colleague's left-over pizza.
What? You haven't read it? You should! The first book in that series is Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency , and if you've never read anything at all by Douglas Adams, here's a bit of his most popular book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and here's a bit about Adams himself (written in Adam's own style).
But I digress. I was talking about staffroom refrigerators. Now why, you may be asking, why on earth would this subject be the focus of my (rather boring and often literary) blog? Well... let's put it this way. Tonight I removed my tidy lunch bag from the staffroom refrigerator, and was happily eating my grilled chicken and salad. A colleague comes in, searching for a packet of dressing for a salad of her own. (May I interject here that we're not all such healthy eaters? More often than not the favorite lunch spot is the Jacks burger joint across the street. But I digress again.)
There are many packets of dressing, and bits of other - quite unidentifiable - things in the crisper. Alas, however, my colleague discovered that nothing within had an expiration date later than... June 2007. So what did two librarians - committed to archiving and preserving all things of value - do? We chunked 'em in the closest trash recptacle! But that is not the end of the saga. Upon a more careful but still determinedly cursory inspection, I discovered a half-gallon of orange juice tucked far away in the back corner. It looked ... odd ... upon closer review. Lumpy, one might even venture to say. Most decidedly NOT the way vitamin-rich, healthy orange juice should appear. I hooked a finger around the handle and carefully slid it toward me. The date, there in bold, black, ink-stamped numbers, proudly stated "Expires 1/28/07". No, friends, that is not a typo. This OJ was more than a year out of date, and slopped slugglishly within its plastic prison, as though seeking a means of escape in order to release deadly and hithertofore undiscovered toxins into the air.
Tomorrow I may catch holy terror from other members of the staff for daring to remove one precious (yesss, my precioussss) item from the holy of holies. But I feared for my life tonight, and that takes precedence over the verbal drubbing I may receive tomorrow.
In closing I implore you, gentle readers all, during this season of Lent to examine your lives, and discern whether or not you may unknowingly be contributing to the culture of lawlessness in your own staffroom 'fridge. And if you are, with deep regret and penitence for your misdeeds, remove the offending material from behind your colleague's left-over pizza.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
A Day in the Life
Indeed, it is always an interesting adventure working the evening shift at an academic library. Today our campus-wide internet went down... on the first day of finals.... with a huge number of on-line classes giving exams... requiring proctors... and could be online ONLY on a campus-LAN-connected computer. You get the idea. What was the cause, you might wonder? Oh, someone cut one of the fiber-optic lines running to our servers. And then our online catalog went out too, but of course who needs to look up books this time of year??? So what happened? A student came in just after all the day staff left, looking for (you guessed it!) a book. He had the call number written down. In Dewey (that's right - we use the Library of Congress system here!!). So there was no way to A) see if we actually owned the title (though he was CONVINCED we did, and was ASSURING me he had just returned it last week) or B) check to see if the public library owned the title. There we go, off looking in the stacks. I knew roughly that it would be in the low Es (being about American history) but that's as far as I could figure. So we looked. And we looked. And we looked some more. And the guy just would not take "we don't have it" for an answer! Finally I left him looking and made my way back to the front desk. By that time the internet was back up (though not our catalog) I had the brilliant idea to go on the Library of Congress website and see if I could find it there, and of course, BINGO. I had a probable call number, which I triumphantly took to the student. He had wandered off into the Bs (though I didn't think he'd find what he was looking for in the comparative religion section) so we headed back to the Es and I showed him where it would be if we had it. Then we went on the public library site, and -- you guessed it again! -- there it appeared. So off he wandered, and I had to have a cup of hot chocolate just to recover from the event!
Friday, November 30, 2007
A busy week
This week has been hectic with starting a new job at the local community college library, dealing with a mom in the hospital, and mourning over the Florida State loss to UF. But it's Friday, and I'll drive down to pick up mom and take her home this afternoon. Her surgery went well, and the doctors say all the subsequent test results came back normal.
My new job is interesting, and I work with some great folks. Hopefully in the next week or two I'll be able to pick up some new things to do on a regular basis. It's already been hinted that I might be able to teach some of the orientation classes this summer, so I can look forward to that with fear and trepidation! In the meantime, I'm spending most of my time at the circulation desk, answering questions and doing routine work. I think I can be an real asset there, since I have my Masters in Library Studies, even though my job isn't technically listed as a librarian position. There are lots of possibilities in the future, tho, so I'll do the best I can where I am right now and see what happens.
My new job is interesting, and I work with some great folks. Hopefully in the next week or two I'll be able to pick up some new things to do on a regular basis. It's already been hinted that I might be able to teach some of the orientation classes this summer, so I can look forward to that with fear and trepidation! In the meantime, I'm spending most of my time at the circulation desk, answering questions and doing routine work. I think I can be an real asset there, since I have my Masters in Library Studies, even though my job isn't technically listed as a librarian position. There are lots of possibilities in the future, tho, so I'll do the best I can where I am right now and see what happens.
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