Libraries and Me: A Full Disclosure
I hated libraries as a kid. There, I said it.
I had a perfect storm of things that created an irrational distrust and dislike of them.
For one, they were a place of "No." As in, "No running!" (then why were there aisles like runways??), "No climbing the shelves!" (then why were they built like ladders??), and "Shh! No talking!" (it was ironic that this one set me off--I'm a pretty quiet person to begin with!). There was also the, "No, you can't read that book. How about this one?" when I wanted to take home books I'd seen my older brother read. I liked books, but not libraries, and especially not librarians, the Great and Powerful Sayers of No.
A big part of this dislike was completely unfair (as opposed to the rest, which was just unfair). Like, in middle school, I found a book out on a table instead of in the shelves. No cover art, but the title of Watership Down. I analyzed the title: duh, ships are in water! But it goes down! This is clearly a book about military disasters on submarines! Awesome! And so, I went and checked it out.
I learned that there are no submarines in Watership Down, but that did not make it any less awesome.
It became one of my favoritest books OF ALL TIME. And then, after returning it, I ended up pulled aside and lectured. You see, the librarian was very disappointed in me! The book had been returned in terrible condition, the spine damaged, etc! Here she thought that I was a reader, but there I was disrespecting the book!
I had not damaged the book--it had been that way when I checked it out. So, of course, she knew I was lying.
After all, I had to have been lying because, to paraphrase "there was no way [she'd] let a book go back onto the shelves in that condition!"
That cleared it up--I explained that the book HADN'T been on the shelves. The conclusion was that the reason it was on that table in the first place (only place I would have spotted it, as it was usually placed on a high shelf, which I STILL WASN'T ALLOWED TO CLIMB) was because it needed repairs before returning to the shelves. It had all been a misunderstanding. I was off the hook.
But the library wasn't. This accusation, in my mind, cemented in image of the librarian as an authoritarian book-cop, ready with false accusations and unwilling to listen to defenses (disclaimer: I was a drama queen). From that day forth, I was never comfortable in front of a librarian in its natural habitat.
But libraries were also damned in my eyes, because this was the Second Betrayal.
The First Betrayal: So, as a kid I read Sweet Valley High books all of the time (and shut up! Just because a book isn't good doesn't mean it can't be epic!). In those books, Elizabeth would constantly be off to the public libraries where she would find tons of awesome books! It sounded like so much fun--a place where you could grab a ton of books, and whatever books you wanted (as opposed to the school library's strict limit on how many books and veto power over your selections) and without the parent making you put back half of your books because "Twenty books is just too many!" (pro-tip: it totally isn't).
So I begged and begged and begged to go to the library. I wanted the card. My mother told me I probably couldn't get one (I was like in elementary school at the time). But that was ok--she had a card. What's a little library-card fraud among friends, anyway?
Finally, she caved in and took me. I looked through row after row of books. None of them were Sweet Valley High. Oh, library! How you disappointed me with your lack of quality literature! And in less than five minutes, my trip to the public library had come to a sad end. There you have it folks, The Great Betrayal.
These were the beginnings of my anti-library bias that grew and grew. The instances, ridiculous and silly, fell to old memory. But the discomfort I felt in libraries stayed the same. Bookstores were much safer! They liked you more! They wouldn't tell you that you couldn't have something! They wouldn't boss you around--you're the customer!
By the time I went to college, I ended up at a school with a GORGEOUS library--seriously, looks just like Hogwarts.
But then again, libraries were for serious, scholarly types like Hermione Granger and Ravenclaws, and not for troublemakers like me. I wasn't even comfortable enough to sit in there to study, let alone do some pleasure reading. I thought Libraries and I were just not to be.
What changed this was grad school, and the need to obtain about half a dozen different books each week. Going to a bookstore for all of them would have quickly rendered me penniless (which wouldn't be too bad, except then what about the books I wanted to buy for fun?!). I had to suck it up and deal with libraries.
I'd try to cut the librarian out of the equation as much as possible--I'd locate the books online to determine which library to go to (interlibrary loan meant talking to a librarian, and that couldn't happen!), find the book's code/number/thingie. Despite my efforts, those book-cops kept after me with their vicious, "Hello!"s and "Can I help you find something?" and general cheery grins! Curse them and their... helpfulness? While at first I would recoil and cringe away, doing my best to avoid them, my laziness started to seep in. These librarians DID know where the books were, shaving precious seconds off of my Checking Out Books Relay (which I didn't run--I remember the NO RUNNING thing still--but I still tried to do quickly because LIFE IS ALWAYS A RACE except for when I'm not winning).
It took two full semesters of constant library exposure to erase a lifetime of intolerance, but I made it through. I can use the library now! I've mostly erased my suspicion of librarians (though I doubt it will ever completely subside). I enjoy saving a fortune by borrowing the books, and enjoy the books--even though they aren't SVH.
But life is compromise, give and take. For that reason, since I've caved in so much, I think it is only fair that a library cave a little and let me climb their shelves. Just to be fair. A goodwill gesture.
And that, my friends, is my sordid history with libraries.
I had a perfect storm of things that created an irrational distrust and dislike of them.
For one, they were a place of "No." As in, "No running!" (then why were there aisles like runways??), "No climbing the shelves!" (then why were they built like ladders??), and "Shh! No talking!" (it was ironic that this one set me off--I'm a pretty quiet person to begin with!). There was also the, "No, you can't read that book. How about this one?" when I wanted to take home books I'd seen my older brother read. I liked books, but not libraries, and especially not librarians, the Great and Powerful Sayers of No.
A big part of this dislike was completely unfair (as opposed to the rest, which was just unfair). Like, in middle school, I found a book out on a table instead of in the shelves. No cover art, but the title of Watership Down. I analyzed the title: duh, ships are in water! But it goes down! This is clearly a book about military disasters on submarines! Awesome! And so, I went and checked it out.
I learned that there are no submarines in Watership Down, but that did not make it any less awesome.
It became one of my favoritest books OF ALL TIME. And then, after returning it, I ended up pulled aside and lectured. You see, the librarian was very disappointed in me! The book had been returned in terrible condition, the spine damaged, etc! Here she thought that I was a reader, but there I was disrespecting the book!
I had not damaged the book--it had been that way when I checked it out. So, of course, she knew I was lying.
After all, I had to have been lying because, to paraphrase "there was no way [she'd] let a book go back onto the shelves in that condition!"
That cleared it up--I explained that the book HADN'T been on the shelves. The conclusion was that the reason it was on that table in the first place (only place I would have spotted it, as it was usually placed on a high shelf, which I STILL WASN'T ALLOWED TO CLIMB) was because it needed repairs before returning to the shelves. It had all been a misunderstanding. I was off the hook.
But the library wasn't. This accusation, in my mind, cemented in image of the librarian as an authoritarian book-cop, ready with false accusations and unwilling to listen to defenses (disclaimer: I was a drama queen). From that day forth, I was never comfortable in front of a librarian in its natural habitat.
But libraries were also damned in my eyes, because this was the Second Betrayal.
The First Betrayal: So, as a kid I read Sweet Valley High books all of the time (and shut up! Just because a book isn't good doesn't mean it can't be epic!). In those books, Elizabeth would constantly be off to the public libraries where she would find tons of awesome books! It sounded like so much fun--a place where you could grab a ton of books, and whatever books you wanted (as opposed to the school library's strict limit on how many books and veto power over your selections) and without the parent making you put back half of your books because "Twenty books is just too many!" (pro-tip: it totally isn't).
So I begged and begged and begged to go to the library. I wanted the card. My mother told me I probably couldn't get one (I was like in elementary school at the time). But that was ok--she had a card. What's a little library-card fraud among friends, anyway?
Finally, she caved in and took me. I looked through row after row of books. None of them were Sweet Valley High. Oh, library! How you disappointed me with your lack of quality literature! And in less than five minutes, my trip to the public library had come to a sad end. There you have it folks, The Great Betrayal.
These were the beginnings of my anti-library bias that grew and grew. The instances, ridiculous and silly, fell to old memory. But the discomfort I felt in libraries stayed the same. Bookstores were much safer! They liked you more! They wouldn't tell you that you couldn't have something! They wouldn't boss you around--you're the customer!
By the time I went to college, I ended up at a school with a GORGEOUS library--seriously, looks just like Hogwarts.
But then again, libraries were for serious, scholarly types like Hermione Granger and Ravenclaws, and not for troublemakers like me. I wasn't even comfortable enough to sit in there to study, let alone do some pleasure reading. I thought Libraries and I were just not to be.
What changed this was grad school, and the need to obtain about half a dozen different books each week. Going to a bookstore for all of them would have quickly rendered me penniless (which wouldn't be too bad, except then what about the books I wanted to buy for fun?!). I had to suck it up and deal with libraries.
I'd try to cut the librarian out of the equation as much as possible--I'd locate the books online to determine which library to go to (interlibrary loan meant talking to a librarian, and that couldn't happen!), find the book's code/number/thingie. Despite my efforts, those book-cops kept after me with their vicious, "Hello!"s and "Can I help you find something?" and general cheery grins! Curse them and their... helpfulness? While at first I would recoil and cringe away, doing my best to avoid them, my laziness started to seep in. These librarians DID know where the books were, shaving precious seconds off of my Checking Out Books Relay (which I didn't run--I remember the NO RUNNING thing still--but I still tried to do quickly because LIFE IS ALWAYS A RACE except for when I'm not winning).
It took two full semesters of constant library exposure to erase a lifetime of intolerance, but I made it through. I can use the library now! I've mostly erased my suspicion of librarians (though I doubt it will ever completely subside). I enjoy saving a fortune by borrowing the books, and enjoy the books--even though they aren't SVH.
But life is compromise, give and take. For that reason, since I've caved in so much, I think it is only fair that a library cave a little and let me climb their shelves. Just to be fair. A goodwill gesture.
And that, my friends, is my sordid history with libraries.