The Library Girl

Despair: (n) utter loss of hope

This week I understand what my patrons mean when they say they don’t want a depressing book. I read (or listened to, rather) Chuck Palahniuk’s Diary: a Novel. Although my husband liked it a lot, I felt the height of despair not just when it was done, but throughout. In a word, it was bleak. Normally, I’d have never even finished it, but it was our joint car audiobook and a short one at that. As a text, it had many qualities in terms of concept, plot, and writing style, but I’d never inflict it on anyone unless I know for certain that they go for these types of things. Ugh.

I did actually survive last week’s business, and even more importantly, got through the fourth book. Entitled Dictionary Days: a Defining Passion, and written by Ilan Stavans, I thought it was very insightful. The author, whose third or fourth language is English, has a passion for vocabulary and his OED. The text is a medley of memoir, rumination, translation and lexicography, and the combination works very well. In mood it reminded me of Alberto Manguel’s A Reading Diary, even though the contents are nowhere near the same. I have a weakness for luscious words too, which helps. This is another selection for my father, as it gives the mind a lot to chew on. Get your post-its ready.

Loyalty

Like most people, when I find authors whose writing and/or ideas I appreciate, I try to read all their books. The assumption (or hope) is that their other volumes are at least as good as the first. Sometimes this isn’t the case, but as a rule, I am not disappointed.

I take out most of the titles I want to read from my library (ordering all the non-fiction has the decided perk of allowing me to obtain the ones I think look interesting). If I’m blown away by a book, then I’ll go out and buy it afterwards to both support the author and have it in my personal collection. Any book I love gets recommended to as many people as possible starting with my staff, who in turn suggest it to others.

Today’s selections are by writers whose works are tried and true. I already told you about Frank Furedi (see Day Job), whose most recent publication, Politics of Fear, is just as fabulous and dead-on as his others. I just want to shake this man’s hand. Okay, I want to hug him. He voices everything that has been bubbling in my brain unarticulated for years.  In this potent little volume, he discusses how politics today are devoid of ideas; how we as citizens have become apathetic and fearful of change; and how we need to embark on what he terms a ‘second Enlightenment’. I want to send copies of this book to political leaders everywhere, or—even better—to those of the future. Every university poli sci program should make this mandatory reading.   

The second pick, Every Book Its Reader: The Power of the Printed Word to Stir the World, is by Nicholas A. Basbanes, bibliophile extraordinaire. In these pages, he talks about the ability of books to impact lives. As usual, he introduces readers to remarkable people, some of whom, in this case, read and publish mind-boggling amounts of books, and others who cherish them deeply. I’ve read his entire oeuvre and recommend it to anyone who calls him or herself a bibliomaniac.

Readers

My mission in life is to turn as many people as I can into readers. Being a reader is not the same as being one who reads, and the difference is not just quantitative. Readers devour books, talk about them, get turned on by them. They haunt bookshops and libraries and can see few better ways to pass the afternoon (or the morning, or the evening) than with a good book (or three). Readers share books and allow themselves to be transformed by them. If you regularly look at this blog, then the chances are that you fall into this category of human being.

The question is: what about the rest? I am regularly shocked by the number of people who say they don’t read. They say it openly, in public, to others… to me. Don’t they know who they’re dealing with? I guess not if I just met them, but I’ve had interviewees for the library inform me of the same thing, and with pride. Needless to say, they didn’t get hired. When I meet someone new, one of the first questions I ask is: what do you like to read? If that induces a sheepish grin, especially one followed by an “I don’t really read books but I read magazines and newspapers”, I shrink back in horror and get twitchy.

If I like you, chances are I will ask for a list of your favourite books to get an idea of what makes you tick. I love these because they’re highly indicative, in a “tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are” kind of way. I also do actually pick up a title or two from these bibliographies. It makes me feel as if I’m spending time with that person, which is kind of nice if I haven’t spoken to them in a while.

I can’t imagine life without books, so integral are they to my person. I think if you would examine my heart tissue under a microscope, you’d find tiny books instead of cells.

Day Job

Librarians are usually busy people, but now and again, our schedules are insane. Mine for the next week is absolutely ludicrous. I will be giving not just one, but two lectures/presentations; the first on the hilarious and morbidly fascinating Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach, and the other, on biography and memoir. There is a library-related meeting every single day this week, and I have to belt out an entire new circulation training manual as a result of the massive renovations currently underway in my library. There are also library association annual conferences to plan, and other programs to organize. Oh, and I should be a first-time aunt any minute now.

Today we hosted Jane Urquhart as I mentioned in yesterday’s post. It was brilliant; she was charming and eloquent, and everything went very, very well. We have a new ideal for all our programs, which is to give our attendees not just an event, but an experience. We set up our auditorium with small round bistro tables, bedecked with white linen tablecloths, votive candles, roses and cups and saucers. People walked in with soft classical music playing and a warm ethereal atmosphere. We even set up tiny white lights on huge potted plants for effect. To make them feel special, we walked around and served pastries, coffee, and tea à table. What a shindig.

Despite all of this going on, I still make a point of reading those four books a week. It will be a miracle if I pull it off again by next Sunday, but in the meantime, I did manage it for today.

Frank Furedi’s Therapy Culture: Cultivating Vulnerability in an Uncertain Age, was incredible. I cannot express to you how much I love this man’s writing. Ever since I read Where Have All the Intellectuals Gone? I am a complete Furedi die-hard. Every paragraph I read, I think “Yes! Yes! Yes!” He’s so right, so often. Check out his website at http://www.frankfuredi.com to read more about him and his work.

I read more fiction this week than usual, but for no reason, really. Quebec writer Gil Courtemanche’s Une Belle Mort was very good. About a middle-aged man who watches his father suffer from Parkinson’s disease, it will likely be translated into English, since his first novel, A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali, was internationally acclaimed. I still haven’t read that one, but it’s in the ‘read next’ pile.

The last book of the week was Isabel Allende’s Portait in Sepia, which I listened to in its audio format. The actress who narrates the book, Blair Brown, is really fantastic and she does most, if not all, of Allende’s books. The story itself, spanning several generations in both San Francisco and Chile, is lovely. I particularly enjoyed the way she describes her characters, especially the women, who are never straightforward.

I really better get back to work as I still have a long night ahead.

The Trillium and the Maple Leaf

Today I read Canadian author Jane Urquhart’s The Stone Carvers. She is speaking at my library tomorrow, and I want the essence of her prose to be fresh in my mind when I introduce her.

I really, really liked this book. It’s wonderfully written, with descriptions so beautiful that I quoted them aloud to my husband. Take this passage as an example:

“Having looked at the river for so long, Tilman was able finally to understand the language of water: quiet water, and water that speaks. He knew the slow, almost imperceptible sigh of it during weeks of drought, and its more aggressive babble after four or five days of rain.”

The story spans three decades and takes place, for the most part, in a small Ontario town, where the lives of Klara Becker and her wanderlust-stricken brother get separated then woven together again. Granddaughter of a master woodcarver, she tragically falls in love with a man who dies during the Great War, and is haunted thereafter. Tilman ends up a tramp, a craftsman, then a soldier, before returning to his sister, the last remaining member of his family. The pair voyage to France so that they might work on the Vimy Ridge memorial and find peace and stability at long last.

When I read the text, I was reminded of another great Canadian (actually, Ontarian) writer, Robertson Davies, whose Cornish Trilogy is magnificent. I started with the second novel, What’s Bred in the Bone, rather than the first, and I preferred it that way. Come to think of it, I adored the Deptford Trilogy as well, and devoured it in a relatively short time, although in the right order.

I don’t as a rule set out to read authors from my own country, any more than I seek British, French, or American ones. That said, if I happen upon one whose work I come to love, then all the better.

Afterlife U

In my travels across the blogosphere and in my role as a librarian, I have encountered many individuals that live in the work ‘afterlife’. Some are retired; others have downshifted; and still more fall into that undefined but ever-growing ‘post-corporate’ world. What all of the above are after is a good (better) quality of life: balanced, enriched, and interesting.

There’s no better place than a public library to help achieve that. Most North American cities and towns have one, and believe me, there are many out there who have yet to take advantage. Those, in fact, least likely to do so are twenty-five to sixty year-old working males (studies have been done), who are presumably too busy to read. Corporate life is all-absorbing, and it is only when one steps off the merry-go-round, that one ‘discovers’ some of the things that have been missed. It doesn’t have to wait until then, but often, that’s what it takes.

One can truly create a new life through a public library, and connect to one’s community in amazing ways. The trick is to become a regular. This sounds silly, but the more your librarians and library staff know you and your habits, the better served you will be. They may put books aside for you that they know you’ll like, or be able to create tailor-made reading lists that suit your taste. They can help you create a personalized ‘continuing education’ course with the resources at the library (including inter-library loans for the material they don’t have), supplying you with a bibliography of the most appropriate books, websites, articles, and other information sources. As an aside, it’s also nice to have friendly and familiar faces greet you and address you by name.

Besides these services, most public libraries offer a range of programs, including: language courses, history lectures, book clubs, storytelling, concerts, author talks, films, symposia, current events discussions, workshops, computer lessons, wine-tasting, and much, much more. More often than not, these are free or very inexpensive, and of good quality.

You will find more than just books as well. Public libraries have a wide variety of audiovisual materials, and all carry quite a few newspapers and magazines. We have our newspaper regulars, who come in exclusively to read their dailies and then leave. They don’t pay for subscriptions and they don’t have them accumulating in their homes.

I could go on ad nauseum about the merits of public libraries, but instead, I’ll just suggest that you pay yours a visit. The chances are that they offer more than you think. They are there to serve you; all you have to do is let them.

Steam

As I sit and write this, I have a cup of white tea at my side. This morning, I had a large pot of green tea next to me while I read on the couch in my living room. In fact, I almost always read with a hot beverage in hand (usually my beloved tea), and in this I am hardly alone. Hot drinks and books are a magical combination, one reinforcing the enjoyment of the other.

The relationship begins with ritual. Obtaining one’s daily hot beverage is a nearly universal habitual action—one of the small pleasures we look forward to that commences our day. Most people repeat the same practice (be it picking it up at a coffee chain, brewing it at home, or using the machine at the office) at least when they work, with a variation on the weekend. If we don’t get to, for whatever reason, we are cranky. That drink is your gift to yourself.

We sip. And sip. And sip. The rhythm allows us to concentrate; the caffeine, to stay awake. When we sit and read, that mellifluous flow heightens the interaction with the book, helping us absorb and remember the text before our eyes. We hypnotically and luxuriously drink in both warming liquid and words.

It’s not surprising that large book chains have cafés inside, nor that the latest trend in libraries leans in the same direction. We visit them to relax, to slow down, and to find something we can look forward to. The anticipation of cracking open a potentially terrific new book or taking that very first sip of your latté is not dissimilar. These joys are easily and cheaply obtained, but can enrich your life.

Tomorrow morning, get up a little earlier, preferably before everyone else in your household wakes up. Brew a pot of your preferred elixir or go to a café and sit down. Take out a book that you’ve wanted to read for some time, and indulge in a chapter or two before officially beginning your day. Make that volume your ‘morning ritual’ book, something to await as much as that rich mug of ___. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t at least sound good. Go ahead. Try it, just once. You will find, I am certain, that you want to do it again.

Short, But Hardly Sweet

I write this during the final hour of the week, having once again (just barely) attained the four-book goal. All the selections were non-fiction and quite good, actually. I’ve had a very decent year so far in terms of liking what I’ve read. Considering the near-randomness of the choices up to this point (admittedly, some titles were settled upon for their brevity), I’ve done rather well in the picking.

Oliver Sacks’ The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales was the first - read, for the most part, in a clinic waiting room. Sacks is a neuroscientist who shares his most interesting patients with the reader, recounting the tales in a 19th-century style. My favourite is entitled “Phantoms”, about the sensation of still having body parts no longer there because of amputation. It’s really fascinating.

I read Elie Wiesel’s Night because it was long overdue. I had planned on reading it for a few years now, but never got to it. Since our library got the new and crispy Oprah Book Club edition, I figured it was time. It is as excellent as everyone says, not because it’s well-written, but because it’s haunting. A couple of things stand out and set it apart from other Holocaust memoirs. The first is that one of the men in Wiesel’s village had warned the villagers of what would happen to them in lurid detail. He had, you see, been transported early, and watched every person he was with get killed. He managed to escape, and then returned to tell the tale. Nobody listened; nobody believed; most perished because of it. The second disturbing thing is that Wiesel essentially abandoned his father in the end, a decision he regrets still. This book ranks as one of the essential Shoah texts, along with the Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl and Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz(also called If This Is a Man).

The next book was Francis Wheen’s How Mumbo Jumbo Conquered the World: A Short History of Modern Delusions. I really liked it, and it fits very nicely with Theodore Dalrymple’s incredible Our Culture, What's Left of It: The Mandarins and the Masses (a must-read, emphasis on the 'must'). The author, a Brit, wrote it to show how the values of the Enlightenment have been essentially abandoned in favour of superstition, religious zeal, relativism, and emotional hysteria. His arguments are well-formed and convincing.

The last book of the week, and the night for that matter, is Blood & Guts: A Short History of Medicine, by Roy Porter. This is a fine primer on medical history, covering everything from blood-letting to hospitals, replete with quackery, dissection, and cures. How can one resist a title like this?

I sign off for now, requiring the 'sleeping cure'. A demain.

I Spy

I was on the metro on my way home from work today when I realized I have a potentially intrusive habit. It takes the form of watching people read on public transportation. More specifically, I want to see what they’re reading, how far into they are, or whether it’s in English, French or another language. Do they seem like they’re enjoying it? Are they getting moved by the words before them? Is it from a library, and if so, which one? Is it a bestseller or an older book? Call it a librarian compulsion.

There are student crammers, squeezing in what are obviously assigned texts. There are those who hide what they read from prying onlookers like me, for reasons I could only surmise as embarrassment (nobody should ever be ashamed of what they read. Any reader, in my opinion, is a step up from the “stare at one’s reflection in the window” variety of passenger.)

A few months ago I noticed several people on the metro reading the latest Harry Potter book. One of them caught me looking at the volume in his hand and I smiled and pointed to the others in the car also toting the familiar tome. He smiled; I grinned; connection. We both knew that every single one of us needed to find out what happened to Harry and Dumbledore, and whether Malfoy’s plan would succeed or not. I knew that he knew that we were rushing through it only to find ourselves bewildered because it would be over far too quickly.

I am always thrilled when someone whips out a book on the bus or metro. I love seeing others derive pleasure from the written word. On a professional level, I also get a random sample of what Montrealers are reading, and how much. Anecdotally, since our city became the World Book Capital, the number of people I spy with books has increased many-fold. Nothing makes me happier.

Whatever it takes, wherever you can: read. Just know that someone may be watching.

Becoming 'Bait'

Not all books are meant to be pleasant. Some (arguably, many) are purposefully designed to rip you out of your comfort zone, make you think, open your eyes.

Barbara Ehrenreich is one who writes these kinds of books. Her Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America became a classic when it came out a few years ago. In it, she went undercover as a low-wage worker in order to experience what it’s like to do back-breaking work for long hours on a feeble salary.

Her latest work, Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream, explores the corporate, white-collar world—or more accurately, the attempt to break into it. This book, which I listened to in its audio format, was frankly…depressing. I’d attribute it not so much to the fact that she doesn’t actually succeed despite a nearly year-long job hunt, but to the shockingly banal corporate universe she discusses. Time and time again, she is fed buzzwords (“networking”, “positive attitude”, “transition”), and employment gurus try to sell their simple acronym-laden self-help programs and personality tests.

This got me thinking about the application of the term ‘guru’ in the business world. Where there’s a guru, there’s a book. What marvels me each time any of these titles becomes a mega-seller is the utter devotion of its adherents. Managers everywhere buy copies for every single one of their employees, sometimes sending them to seminars on the very same topic. As in a pyramid scheme, they are recruiting faithful companions.They want them to be inspired like they were; they want them, in other words, to be touched and share the faith, to become devotees. It seems that by its very definition, following a guru implies that one is not the leader or visionary and is therefore unable to see a big picture. Instead, one chases trends, gets on bandwagons, applies ‘leadership principles’, forms committees - time that would be better spent ‘leading’!

The latest ‘it’ title is Spencer Johnson’s Who Moved My Cheese?, a book I picked up only to see what all the fuss was about. It is huge in the States, and also Japan. What I found was a brilliant money-maker for the author: a pamphlet sized book with a font so big it passes as large print, interspersed with more than a dozen pages with only wedges of cheese on them, containing ‘nuggets’ of wisdom—and this for $19.95 US, $30 Canadian. It reads like a wannabe parable motivational infomercial. I know that seems harsh, and there are many who were very inspired by it, but I am outraged for readers at what they are getting, especially for the cost.

In the early 1990s, the trendy manager’s book was Stephen R. Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. It sold millions of copies, and people rushed out to buy the special agendas and planners, so they too, could become interdependent and ‘sharpen the saw’. Covey had a veritable empire. I say ‘had’, because he is no longer the guru du jour. In my library at least, his latest book, The 8th Habit, didn’t even make a waiting list. I only mention it at all to demonstrate how fleeting these trends are.

All of these titles (and there are more), work on a basic premise: you are dissatisfied with your life and want something more; you fear change; you feel the loss of control. This book can help. It’s so simple. You too can take control of your life and soar personally and professionally. We can help you ‘win’. We can help you even more if you buy our related products.

I’m not suggesting that people shouldn’t read these books—or any other self-help books for that matter—I only wish people could see them for what they are: one inspirational book of many that probably won’t have a lasting impact on their lives. Anyone needing insight on becoming a leader would be better off reading about real ones, rather than a buzzword-padded “how-to” manual.

Trust

I’ve been giving quite a lot of thought lately to book recommendations. Obviously, in my profession, I make dozens of them a day, not just to the public, but to my staff, friends, family, and it goes without saying, anyone who reads this. There is nothing more satisfying than when people let you into their lives enough to accept your reading advice. Actually, that’s not quite true; even more gratifying is when they come back for more because they very much enjoyed what you suggested the first time.

The bulk of what any of us reads comes largely from word of mouth. Most people are inspired to obtain books because of a trusted authority, even if it’s a literary critic, or, say, Oprah. Trust is actually the key factor driving what one reads next. You trust your friend’s recommendations because she’s like you and knows you; you trust your librarian because she knows books.

Literary tastes vary as much as readers themselves. I’m sure everyone at some point has been given a book by someone close to them because it “changed his/her life”, only to discover that it didn’t hold the same magic for them. The dread of talking to that person creeps up because they will inevitably ask how you liked it, and you feel uncomfortable telling them the truth. In such cases, I’d say be honest but positive, or better yet, start a dialogue. “I found the book had an interesting premise, but the writing wasn’t my style. What captivated you the most?” The habit of talking about books is enriching, even if such a discussion is an agreement to disagree.

Two of the titles I read this week were recommendations from the Dewey Divas. Last fall, members of this group presented their personal favorites of the season to an audience of, in our case, librarians. Despite the caveat that they work for publishers, I found them both entertaining and trustworthy enough to take advice from. I couldn’t imagine being in the business of books without being an avid reader. Enthusiastic readers, more than anything else, make the best readers’ advisors.

Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by Julie Powell was my public transit book of the week. The author set herself on a year-long mission to cook every single recipe in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the progress of which she reported on her Julie/Julia blog. This book does not really contain the posts themselves, but instead reveals not only what she went through, but how the Project impacted her life. The author is very likeable and down-to-earth, but more than anything else, sassy. I liked the ‘Julia in her head’ she comes to know well and understand; the fact that she is imperfect in her execution and is fine with that; and that she loves Buffy. Everyone should love Buffy.

A much more serious but excellent title (one I started reading a few weeks ago), was Karen Connelly’s The Lizard Cage. Most of this novel takes place in a Burmese jail, where a political prisoner named Teza is kept locked up. Known as the ‘Songbird’ because of his previous life as a singer, he learns to interact not just with the warders and servers, but with the small beasts in his ‘teak coffin’: the spiders, ants, cockroaches and lizards. Despite sometimes cruel treatment, he manages to retain his humanity through little pleasures and subtle bonds with a sympathetic jailer and later on, a young orphan. I didn’t feel despair after reading this novel, even if the subject matter was somewhat unpleasant. Connelly did a lot of research before writing, which I appreciated, and I very much liked the characters.

You may or may not take out or buy the books I recommend. It is quite possible that my taste in books is not your own. If that’s the case, don’t worry, I’m not insulted. Every book has its reader and every reader, his or her book. I write with the hope of at least introducing you to titles and enabling your reading lives. If I end up as one of your trusted sources, then I am honoured.

I Am... A Very Long Book

After nearly two months of consistent listening in the car, my husband and I finally (enfin!) finished listening to I am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe. At 25 discs this is the longest one we have ever attempted. I am still undecided as to whether or not I liked it. If I used a star system, it would get a 2 ¾, maybe 3 stars at most out of five. The performance by Dylan Baker was excellent though.

I think the book could have used brutal editing. Many, many parts are drawn out in a painful way, and there are inexcusable repetitions. I also thought the ending was lacking, as many subplots didn’t get resolved. The portrayal of the so-called Ivy-league university life was often unrealistic too, and I actually wanted to physically injure certain characters.

One could and should make up a Charlotte Simmons drinking game. Take a swig every time you encounter the words ‘loins’, ‘solar plexus’, ‘matrix’, ‘skull-f*#k’, or ‘f*#k-patois’. Gulp down another sip every time Adam acts cowardly or whiney, Charlotte behaves selfishly or admires herself, or Hoyt acts cocky. Knock back a shot every time words are repeated several times in a row or some body part is referred to by its anatomical name. You’ll be under the table in no time.

Clearly, this book had some merit or I would have never stuck by it for that long. I think that the actor himself had something to do with that, but I can’t actually be sure. My favourite storyline is the Charlotte-Jojo relationship. Every other hook-up or pseudo boyfriend she has gets on my nerves to varying degrees.

After all this criticism, I should at least tell you what is good about this book: the storyline itself pulls the reader along nicely, the characters are well fleshed out, and the scenes are well-described. I also generally like university locales in fiction, and I take pleasure in reading about other people learning and getting inspired. There you have it.

Is this book recommended? I’d advise you to take out the abridged audio version, as it probably leaves out some of the mundane details that bog the story down in this one.