As promised, I read This Book is Overdue! How Librarians and Cybrarians Will Save us All, by Marilyn Johnson. Before getting into it, though, I found a very quick work on KU that amused me, so I’m sharing it here as well: I Work in a Public Library.

If you’ve ever worked at a public library for any length of time, you’ve no doubt encountered some strangers and even stranger incidences: my two favorites are the time traveler and the man who wandered inside wearing no pants or shoes but holding a belt. I assumed this would be along those lines, and I was correct — complete with some recurring characters, like “Cuckoo Cathy”. The book is a collection of funny quotes from patrons (the sort of thing you’d find at Overheard Everywhere Else, but library-focused) as well as amusing & bizaare anecdotes. Sheridan closes with more heart-warming stories, like of a man who returned to the library with gifts to thank libarians for helping him find a job, that sort of thing.

Quotes:

MAN: The volume. It keeps quacking instead of ringing. It’s really embarrassing. I think my grandkids got hold of it.
ME: I think I can fix that. [I take the phone, quickly go through the settings, and make a few changes. Then I show him the switch to quickly turn on and off the ringer.]
MAN: You are a miracle worker! If only you could fix my grandkids. They could use an on/off switch. Or a kick.

FIVE-YEAR-OLD: You got books on Al Capone? He led a crime cinnamon. MOTHER: Syndicate.

And now, the real subject of this post: This Book is Overdue! As a librarian who doubles as an IT dude, I was immediately drawn to this title. Written in 2007 or so, it’s a general tribute to librarians but especially those who were taking advantage of the computer & networking revolution to radically rethink approaches to library work. We start off slow, Johnson documenting the trials and tribulations of a library system changing its patron & collection management software, visit librarians who were playing with then-new software tools like chatboxes, and eventually find ourselves in “Second Life”, where librarians were creating digital libraries that offered the texts of materials that members of Second Life were looking for but couldn’t find in their own systems — or, for reasons of privacy or security, were afraid to ask for in person. The setting in the early terror war period also gives librarians a chance to shine as frustrators of the goonie-boys: one section here features three anonymous librarians refusing to comply with orders from the fibs to hand over patron records. In more fun sections, Johnson dives into the digital world that librarians were creating — invading the bloggosphere and creating a community of blogs commenting on serious issues, venting steam about patrons and city councils, or just goofing off. Unfortunately, most of the blogs mentioned are long since dead, though it’s possible to use the Wayback Machine to gain some limited access. One blog that is still extant is “Tales from the Liberry“, though it’s dormant. My guess is that the social energy of the library-blogging sphere shifted into things like facebook groups, as I’m a member of so many library-focused groups that my feed is sometimes nothing but library programming ideas, book displays, baseball news, and photos of trains. This was a fun look back at how libraries began embracing the digital revolution, with a lot of laughs.

Coming up: I’m attending a book launch this weekend for Living in Wonder with Paul Kingsnorth & Rod Dreher, which should be interesting: I have the book preordered and will probably begin reading it next week, though I suspect it’s going to be a headier one than say, How Dante Can Save Your Life or The Little Way of Ruthie Leming.

Another post consisted entirely of “signs we never thought we’d need to make,” each of which told its own condensed story: While waiting for your ride home, do not set fire to your homework to keep warm. You may not take the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue into the washroom. Iguanas are not allowed in the building. If you are out of diapers, do not open the soiled diaper, scoop out the turd, leave the turd on a shelf, and then ask the librarian to tape the newly cleaned diaper closed again….

I was spending my life trying to focus on what was new in librarianship: new attitudes, new targets for outreach, the new issues and possibilities that computers in libraries represented. I didn’t want to be sitting in a sticky chair thinking about poop. Children, the homeless, smuggled-in soda bottles that spill all over the stacks, poop—these were all problems, as the academics would say, beyond the scope of my inquiry. And yet, here was poop.

Writers seldom just stop writing. We’re like serial killers in that way. You have to stop us, because we cannot stop ourselves.

During the height of the debate about the Patriot Act, some librarians posted signs that were “technically legal,” slyly warning patrons that their privacy might be compromised: THE FBI HAS NOT BEEN HERE (watch very closely for the removal of this sign).