Showing posts with label librarian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label librarian. Show all posts

Feb 12, 2010

Monkey Droppings - The Incident Report by Martha Baillie: "The unconjugated afternoon unfolded."


The Monkey discovers that libraries are far more romantic and mysterious places than he previously thought possible.



The Incident Report
by Martha Baillie (2009)
A beautiful young man, whose large dark eyes seemed to be watching a movie the rest of us could not see, walked slowly up the Reference Desk and sat down in the chair intended for patrons with questions.
To label Martha Baillie's beguiling novel The Incident Report as being 'a book about the daily goings-ons in a library' does it a grave disservice, but Baillie herself sets up the format, so superficially, it's fairly hard to argue otherwise. The story is presented as a series of library incident reports (similar in concept, if not execution, to Joey Comeau's Overqualified), professional accounts of unusual occurrences that occur within the confines of public libraries, so while much, much more may occur in Baillie's tale of of woe, wonderment, and public service, it's the public service aspect that gets all the initial attention.

And little wonder; the Canadian author, in addition to having written three previous novels, has been a part-time librarian in Toronto for over twenty years. And so there is no questioning the veracity of her librarian protagonist's observations, especially when she outlines (in a lengthy paragraph that should become the Hippocratic oath of the modern librarian) the parameters of her job:
We, the Public Libraries of Toronto, lend books to any person living, studying or working in the city of Toronto. We do not ask who you are or comment on your choice of reading materials. We require only that you return what you have borrowed in a reasonable condition and that you do so in a timely manner...Without statistics we would cease to exist. If we restricted ourselves to the lending of books we would cease to exist. DVDs, videos, CDs, internet access, magazines, comics, word-processing, story hours, literacy classes for adults, puppet shows, reading clubs: the list of our efforts is impressive. Silence eludes us. If you hope to find silence we recommend that you visit one of our branches early in the morning and lay claim to a chair in a far corner near a window, or drag a chair into the stacks. We discourage all our patrons from urinating indiscriminately, singing loudly, snoring, drying their socks on the heating vents, verbally or physically assaulting each other, cutting out the colourful pictures from our cookbooks, writing in library materials, licking or kissing the lingerie advertisements in the magazines we lend, stealing library property.
If the novel were simply a description of each day's strange encounter with a member of the public (many of them spot-on, if far more lyrical in interpretation than their real-life counterparts would be), The Incident Report would still be a terrifically fun read. Luckily, Baillie has crafted far more than a compendium of human foibles and quirks; in its sneaky way, The Incident Report is a quietly devastating account of damaged people.

The titular reports are written by Miriam Gordon, a "Public Service Assistant" in Toronto. Miriam is a strict follower of rules, often quoting the Rules and Regulations and breaking out the Manual of Conduct for Encounters with Difficult Patrons when dealing with unruly patrons such as Budgie Man, a customer who routinely challenges Miriam's sense of her place in the library:
Because he listens to recordings of song birds, because he rides a bicycle, because he expects to be served, because he is tall and waves his fist while complaining that Hitler did not do a good enough job cleaning up the world, because he disgusts and frightens me, because he breeds budgies, because I am a trained employee of the Public Libraries of Toronto, this morning when he called me over to where he sat, I went.
In addition to the patron encounters (sometimes mild, sometimes disturbing, sometimes downright icky), Miriam begins to discover handwritten notes about the library which, to her mind, cast her as the doomed Gilda from the opera Rigoletto. The notes add a surreal quality to Miriam's life, implying violence (or worse) in every public interaction.

Miriam intersperses her library encounters with observations on her past family life, as well as her burgeoning relationship with Janko Prijatelj, a Slovenian cab driver. Miriam and Janko form a cocoon about themselves that rejects their day-to-day existence apart, but when reality intrudes (as it so often must), Miriam finds herself adrift, clinging to "the necessity of the library."

It would not do to go into too much detail, as much of the joy of The Incident Report comes from placing the pieces together, getting a picture of Miriam's fragility and strength only through glimpses into her reactions. The rest of the novel's delight lies in Baillie's precise construction of sentences, her wordplay and imagery delicately balancing Miriam's wistful view of the world with its harsher realities. Phrases such as "I lowered my eyes to the computer screen and read, but the words had become hollow gourds, little seeds of shrivelled meaning rattling inside them," eloquently capture the fragility of Miriam as she clings to rules and certainty over the increasingly chaotic world about her.

The Incident Report may not be for everybody; Baillie's world is an oblique creation that only attains meaning through careful reading and total immersion, i.e. those who cannot live without linear narrative, stay away. But for those willing to make an effort, to immerse themselves in Miriam's universe; those readers are in for a rewarding experience.

VERDICT: MONKEY LOVES

Jul 8, 2007

Librarians - hipper than we ever thought

There's a great article in the NY Times about the new renaissance in hipster librarians.

On a Sunday night last month at Daddy’s, a bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, more than a dozen people in their 20s and 30s gathered at a professional soiree, drinking frozen margaritas and nibbling store-bought cookies. With their thrift-store inspired clothes and abundant tattoos, they looked as if they could be filmmakers, Web designers, coffee shop purveyors or artists.

When talk turned to a dance party the group had recently given at a nearby restaurant, their profession became clearer.

“Did you try the special drinks?” Sarah Gentile, 29, asked Jennifer Yao, 31, referring to the colorfully named cocktails.

“I got the Joy of Sex,” Ms. Yao replied. “I thought for sure it was French Women Don’t Get Fat.”

Ms. Yao could be forgiven for being confused: the drink was numbered and the guests had to guess the name. “613.96 C,” said Ms. Yao, cryptically, then apologized: “Sorry if I talk in Dewey.”

That would be the Dewey Decimal System. The groups’ members were librarians. Or, in some cases, guybrarians.

“He hates being called that,” said Sarah Murphy, one of the evening’s organizers and a founder of the Desk Set, a social group for librarians and library students.

Ms. Murphy was speaking of Jeff Buckley, a reference librarian at a law firm, who had a tattoo of the logo from the Federal Depository Library Program peeking out of his black T-shirt sleeve.

Librarians? Aren’t they supposed to be bespectacled women with a love of classic books and a perpetual annoyance with talkative patrons — the ultimate humorless shushers?

Not any more. With so much of the job involving technology and with a focus now on finding and sharing information beyond just what is available in books, a new type of librarian is emerging — the kind that, according to the Web site Librarian Avengers, is “looking to put the ‘hep cat’ in cataloguing.”

Read the article in its entirety here.

Thanks to Morley Walker (arts editor for the Winnipeg Free Press, honourary shelf monkey, and all-around good dude) for the heads-up.

Mar 22, 2007

My new digs - the graphic representation

I haven't had a lot of time for posting as of late, and I apologize. I move in to a new apartment this weekend, and should have plenty of evening time to fully update my three fans on my doings.

However, I thought I'd quickly break into my busy day (budget, budget, budget!) to do a speedy post of this lovely pencil rendering of my new digs.


My heartfelt thanks to the gracious Adakagome Devode Chartrand for the honour of her talents. This now takes up a prominent place on my office door.

And if you look closely, you can see how jubilant I am at

a) having my name spelled correctly, and

b) my first book challenge (more later)!





Mar 16, 2007

Mar 5, 2007

My new digs, part 2

Got a little extra time here in Thompson, so I thought I'd give you a little in-depth tour of my new locale.
This is the front lobby of the Thompson Public Library, soon to be renamed
"The Corey Redekop Knowledgeum and Video Danceteria."




This is the children's area, heretofore to be known as "Corey Redekop's Punishment Centre for Children who Refuse to Learn how to SHUSH!"



This is Bruno, my ball of rubber bands and loyal companion for the past seven years.



This is my one and only rejection letter for Shelf Monkey.



These are my shelf monkeys.





And this is me, maxin' and relaxin', exalted emperor of all I survey.

Feb 16, 2007

My new digs

Well, after some thought, I have decided to uproot myself from my comfortable lifestyle of doing nothing, and go somewhere and do something.

Specifically, Thompson, Manitoba.

It's my hometown, and I'll be the administrator in charge of the above public library.

That's right. I'm in charge of the whole library.

It's all mine. And I'm scared to death.

Feb 1, 2007

33 Reasons Librarians are Still Essential

Just thought I'd put up a quick link to this thoughtful and important list, via the blog DegreeTutor.

I particularly like point 23: The Internet is a mess.
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