This afternoon, I was reading Penelope Fitzgerald's Offshore, with musical accompaniment (ostensibly as background) by a set of Mozart Quintets played by the Griller String Quartet plus William Primrose (that last name sounds to me like something out of a Wodehouse novel - no offense intended to Mr. Primrose, though he's no longer around and will never read this), Peter Wolf, Lonesome Sundown, Clifford Jordan with rare organ accompaniment, Ma Rainey, Charlie Parker, Jelly Roll Morton, and a few others. I have to admit that the reading was sporadic, since the music periodically captured my attention and I ended up setting the book down to listen.
One great thing about this reading was that I was reading a library book. My wife says that the library is like a free book store, and I agree entirely. I can take out a book and sample it. If I don't like it, I can return it with no loss except for my time (though that's becoming more valuable as I get older.) If I do like it enough, I can buy my own copy.
Our local library is one of my favorite places. When I'm there, I enjoy visiting with the people who work there and appreciate what they do. That appreciation also extends to people outside the library whom I never see - the catalogers who set up and maintain the website and catalogs that I order books from and the folks who deliver the books I order from other libraries.
It should be obvious that our library is one of my favorite places. I go there because I love books. Other library patrons have their own reasons for going there. Some go for group activities (those have obviously been curtailed to varying degrees during the pandemic, but seem to be slowly returning); some are there to use computers or wi-fi; some are there because it's a peaceful place to read, think, or work. Best of all, at least to my mind, is that children, accompanied by parents, are constantly visiting our library, both to take out books and to attend various children's programs. These days, the programs are restricted to zoom or outdoor programs, but I'm hopeful that will change. Our children's librarian is constantly working to help create new generations of readers, every library's future.
Libraries are ever changing and I hope that they'll always be with us.
The The Dark Library is a collection of loosely connected tales concerning The Great Library and some of its habitués - including the Historian, who ends up trying to escape with his life intact; the Red Librarian, who attempts to maintain the integrity of the library; and books that have lives of their own - the Angry Young Book, who's tired of being ignored and unread and places itself on the work areas of unsuspecting patrons; and the Small Wounded Book, who is a hero/heroine of one of the tales.
I found The Dark Library to be a charming book, though I can understand how others might be put off by it. It's certainly not a perfect book. It's just a wonderful book. The tales are somewhat disjointed and there are passages that seem to be treading water but, the important thing is, within the context of the book, libraries and readers are what matter, even if both seem to be endangered species.
The Angry Young Book: "The moment has come to fight for the cause of books. And the Oldies and Classics cannot really be counted on: they have done their time; they have received gratification and honours; and the majority know that no matter what happens, they will continue to be studied. They don't understand our anxieties and fears. But you, a reader, must be capable of understanding the situation. Support our cause. Join the fight now. Read me."
The Historian: "Of the 35,000 volumes in his private library, he had insisted on keeping ten books, the ten essential titles. To make his selection, he projected himself into the following situation:
Imagine you have to leave your home urgently, you have ten minutes, right now they are headed toward you with the intent to eliminate you, they are violent, armed, determined, don't waste any time, each second counts, it is your life on the line, you can only take with you one suitcase in which you will put ten books not a single one more, hurry up, you only have nine minutes and fifty seconds, you have to decide now, answer, which books would you take?"
A question for readers of this review (and for myself): which books would you take?
I shelve my books by author, but I place books by various authors next to books by other authors in ways that I enjoy seeing, and in combinations that I imagine that the books would enjoy. I plan on placing The Dark Library next to Ali Smith's Public Library and Other Stories. I hope they'll share some good conversations.