Wednesday, January 7, 2009

...from a sea too intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel

This building is across from the library and secretly I wish that this was the library.

Here is my local.



My borrowed copy of 'Little Dorrit' and the kiosk I used to check the book out.


I had to do a report once on Mesopotamia and all I remember about that report was that I read they had one of the first libraries. I think that reading that sentence was the first time I ever thought about being without a library.
I love libraries. Libraries have been my haven when I am tired, or poor. I search them out in the cities I visit, because many are so beautiful.
In Australia, books are shelved in alphabetical order by the last name of the author, and divided into areas, such as 'Large Print' or 'Juvenile Fiction'. The loss of the dui-decimal system was a bit of a culture shock for me. The blow was almost as harsh as the advent of hand stamping the books to scanning a bar code. Now of course I am completely happy to check myself out via a kiosk, I have caved to the kiosk just as I caved to self-serve gas pumps, and bottled water. I worked (temped) across the street from a really grand library in Melbourne. Of course not all libraries are grand, many are just charming such as the one I frequented while staying at Zok's Moms' home.
Zok's mother lives walking distance from a tiny but amazingly diverse library in Thomastown. I even found a book on how to learn Macedonian there, the neighborhood with all its many immigrants, are reflected on the shelves and that is just plain righteous. Nearby is a beautiful looking but not nearly as well stocked library of Millpark. I feel sadness whenever I have to leave a library behind. There was a library on Melrose Ave, east of Highland (in Los Angeles) that I still miss. The libraries on campus, where I went to University in Bellingham are worthy of an older European city. I can picture myself in each of my favorite reading nooks. I can still remember the stacks of books towering over me when I was about ten years old living in Indiana. I remember that library because I couldn't get there often enough to feed my reading appetite so I would sit and agonize over which books to pick. I often thought of sneaking out an extra book or two, but I am no rule breaker.
As you might guess the selection here on the island is a bit lacking. This fact is compensated by the point that the catalog is all online and a person can order a book delivered from anywhere in the state and those books come delivered to your local library.
There are no book drops after hours but a book can be returned to any branch. Sure, many of the audio books only come on tape but a girl can't have everything. Also my library isn't cosy, I never want to hang out there, the most I can do is peruse a shelf or two if I am killing time. Usually I just grab my delivered book from the hold shelf and take the book somewhere better.
I love that my selection this week came with an inscription from 1936. This book is exactly the type I hunt for in Oxfam shops in the U.K. Tiny, tiny print and detailed illustrations is exactly how I like my Victorian novels to be presented. Although I sometime picture myself having to read these same books by use of magnifying glass in my later years.

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