If It Please the Court

I

 I am going to talk a bit about Nance's comment on yesterday's post, which, to be scrupulously clear, I did not in the least interpret as an attack, and which I do not want to sound defensive responding to, although I probably will. 

The comment: "That little grade one boy is THE reason that I do not use libraries for books. I do not like to give books back, period. So I buy books. I support libraries, I think they are wonderful, I recommend libraries, and when I was teaching I made great use of our school's library and library staff. As a child, I adored my town's librarian, who let me take out dozens of books at a time (against the rules), but I always hated taking them back.

Books are my one extravagance. That kid may grow up to be just like me."

I want SO MUCH not to be a stereotypical shush-ing, cranky librarian. Both of these can be difficult, because some classes are SO LOUD and really provoke the crankiness. I had one class at a school I'm not at anymore that literally spiked my blood pressure. There were four boys in it that would have probably been okay, a bit challenging maybe, on their own, but together they were a perfect storm of belligerence, boundary-testing and defiance. Mostly I could meet this with a degree of humour - once I told them to go line up because their class was leaving and one said "is this the end of our library time, or are we getting kicked out?" and I said "a little bit of both!" Once, before Christmas when everyone was burned out, I lost my temper, and that did not feel good. In January I set some clearer, firmer boundaries and changed up some procedures, and after that it was fine.

As for the book limits and return policies - I do regularly bend or break the rules. The teachers are really good at letting me know individual circumstances, and I do not believe in penalizing a child for things that are out of their control. There's a difference between that, though, and the student saying "I already returned that" or "I never took that out". In the vast majority of those cases, the student comes back with the book, usually with zero shame (baller move), or the parent sends the book back with an apologetic note. Also, whenever anyone says the book has been returned, we always check the shelves for it, because every once in a while something doesn't get scanned in properly and is reshelved without being scanned. That is a tiny minority of cases, though. 

If a student is passionate about a particular book, I will happily waive the renewal limits and let them keep it all year, unless someone else requests it. Once I saw a grade three boy hiding some craft books and asked him why and he said "I can't take out books today and I'm afraid these are going to get tooken by another kid who's creative!" So I let him take the books. But if we don't impose any kind of limit (which I have tried), it... doesn't go well. There needs to be a bit of incentive for the child or their parents to at least make a cursory effort to find the book, or we would rapidly have no books left. One grade six student graduated last year with eight graphic novels (the most desired genre) not returned. That is a serious dent in our collection. If a book has been out for a long time I send a notice to the parent assuring them that no payment is needed, but asking them to confirm that the book is lost. I can then declare it lost, the student starts over fresh, and we decide whether the book will be replaced. 

I don't believe the little boy yesterday (with whom I have a fairly good relationship) didn't want to return the books. He had just forgotten to put them in the return bin, and, well, it's January. 

Now, about libraries. My town library was in a little house in our little town, and I could go alone but my dad had to come over sometimes when the librarian called him to approve the level of books I wanted to take and the number.In university I spent blissful hours in the library. The one sour note was during my master's degree, when the library claimed I hadn't returned some stupid Androgyny book that I took out for some stupid essay that it wasn't even helpful for, and I DEFINITELY returned it and they charged me EIGHTY DOLLARDS. So I understand the indignation of a wrongly-accused library patron. And it is a perfectly valid sentiment to not like returning books. . But generally, it is one of the most magnificent things for someone like me.

 I read 191 books last year. Assuming each one cost twenty dollars - hard to get one for less these days, many are more - that adds up to three thousand, eight hundred and twenty dollars. I have one or more bookshelves in every room of the house except the bathrooms and the kitchen (well, there kind of is one, but it holds cookbooks and dishes). So I a positively delighted to give many books back. If I don't want to give one back, I will usually buy a copy, and I'm grateful that I have the library to preview it before I know. I pre-ordered Holly by Stephen King a couple of years ago when Matt was going to be away, for something to look forward to. After I read it, I had mild regret for having bought it in hardcover, because it was not one I would want to keep (unlike The Outsider, or If It Bleeds, which also feature Holly Gibney - although The Life of Chuck is my favourite entry in If It Bleeds. It's up there with Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption for heart-deep beauty, bittersweetness and wonder). I also lend books pretty freely, and just consider it off-site storage, although not books that I am too afraid to lose. 

Being able to borrow thirty books at a time from the library (only this year, because Sarah) and then return them fits my lifestyle really well. I can completely see how it would not be the same for others. When the kids were small, I thought going to the library and getting them their own card and then letting them borrow their own books was the most delightful idea ever.

It was a nightmare. I was not an organized parent. I slept badly, what sleep I got was interrupted several times an hour by a sleep apnea that was not diagnosed until many years later, I was painfully anxious, and my husband traveled a lot. I was constantly stressed about losing their library books, finding their library books, where to keep their cards. In the end, I took out books for them on my own card and it was much better. Eve now has a library card that covers Hamilton (where she lives) and Ottawa (where I live) - she borrows ebooks nearly exclusively, but also the odd paper book. She also has some kind of lucky charm that means she keeps finding perfect copies of books she wants that are used.

Nance, I so value your opinion and perspective and I so hope this doesn't come off bitchy. I also thank you for sparking this post, because it is the fastest something has come out of my head onto the screen for weeks, possibly months. I love books. I love libraries. I love being a librarian  - the other day a little girl pointed at a poster we have up of David from the David Shannon books (okay, this is super embarrassing but I just realized both the author and the character are named David HE IS WRITING ABOUT HIMSELF, the story just became so much more layered). I walked over to the picture book section and pulled it out and gave it to her and she looked at me like I was a magician. I love the kids (even when they're cartwheeling on my last nerve), and I really try to make library a positive experience for them. 

In the spirit of transparency, I should be clear that I also buy books. More books than I should. More books than I can probably read in a lifetime? I used to own no books I had not read. I once declared that I was going to achieve Zero Growth with books, as in, if one came in, one went out. Neither of these things are true as of this moment. This is paper books - sometimes I just want a pristine trade paperback that I can caress knowing no one else has. Sometimes I hear about a book and check on the Kindle store if it's available for less than five dollars, and if it is I buy it. If I had to house all my Kindle books in my, um, house, the whole "no bookshelves in the bathrooms and kitchen" thing would have to be revisited. Today I had to go out in a veritable blizzard, and since I was out anyway I went by the bookstore to buy Horse by Geraldine Brooks. I had no desire to read this book, although I like the author, but this year I read Memorial Days, her book about grieving her husband who was super fit and also a writer and died of a massive heart attack at age sixty. She had to finish this book while grieving, so I thought I would buy it and give her my two dollar royalty support. 

(Also, books are NOT my one extravagance, so more power to Nance on that as well. And the little boy could do much worse than growing up to be just like her.)