Do It Yourself

Now the electioneering has started in earnest, there is much debate about who should run what, and who should pay whom to run what. One of the more interesting ideas was that public services should be run by the staff themselves, with less centralisation, and thus a more local service provision.
My eyes immediately lit up! I always had a sneaking fancy to be my own boss - a librarian running a library no less! I could order my own stock, my own shelves, my own signage. I wouldn't be "branded" (the painful process whereby the council or governing body for which you work dictate what colour you have to look at all day. George Orwell had nothing, nothing, let me tell you, on some council colour schemes I have seen dreamt up for the purposes of subduing staff. Purple and pink walls anybody? Headache?). I could serve the town where I work instead of the council twenty miles away. I could open when I wanted, and remove books of which I disapproved. "Da Vinci Code? No sorry." I could finally tell the smelly bloke in the corner where to go. The possibilities are endless.
On the other hand - the library might end up being run by a collective of local townsfolk who, whilst well meaning, cannot agree on anything, except that it is a Very Good Thing that they are running the library, and won't things be better, just as soon as they vote on what sort of biscuits to have at meetings and who is to be the treasurer.
So it's an interesting idea. All I know is that someone needs to get a grip. And soon.
What would you do if you could?

The cost/value continuum. Or something.

Well, in common with many public servants, it is now the turn of us library staff to have a review of our usefulness to society, and the value of of our work. And in common with quantum mechanics, this process is so complex and impenetrable that you need a degree in micro physics to work it out.
The local council has been doing its job evaluation for what seems like months, and finally last week we all received a telephone directory sized letter containing our new salary, plus an explanation of how they decided what we should be paid. Professional skills count for nought, with some of our qualified CILIP registered librarians being downgraded. Random groups of staff seem to have been awarded extra pay for duties they do once a blue moon on a Tuesday, which the rest of us are capable of, but don't do regularly. And how do you compare a library which has just two staff, with a large branch library which has local studies specialists and a children's department running activities all year round? All this against a background of a questioning of library services in general - what are we for, who are we for, and who should pay for it, and how much?
Perhaps we should have an X Factor style council vote - give each council service a month or so to prove its worth, appoint a panel of sneering local dignitaries to pass comment, and then let the public vote where their money goes.
"My name is Dorothea, and tonight I'm going to be a slightly aging but vigorous building that has seen better days, containing all the world's knowledge, several tramps, the phone number you will need if the pavement outside your house needs seeing to, a baby morning, illicit sexual thrills (if you know where to look), several hundred years worth of local information, last months newspapers (though unfortunately some with offer coupons missing), and the award the town got in 2006 for best floral display that the council didn't know what to do with."
OR "My name is Egbert, and tonight I am the Pathfinder Project Coordinator for your town. I do flowcharts, and spreadsheets, and PowerPoint presentations, sometimes with a laser pointer for added effect. Last year I came top for cost savings in the quasi local quango sector...hello? Anybody listening?"
It's a no-brainer, surely?

Odd jobs

Well finally finished my chemotherapy, and am making a vague attempt at contemplating a return to library work at some point. Having gone through the treatment, it does make it harder to take the, shall we say, trivial enquiries we get each day. As a way of returning on light duties, I did think I might try to take on some of the odder queries. For instance a lady telephoned the other day and asked when she could make an appointment to have her antiques valued. I did think that instead of explaining kindly that we didn't actually do that sort of thing and it was two years since the Antiques Roadshow had rolled in to town, I would set myself up with a green baize table and a Millers Antiques Guide. Can't be wrestling with tallboys though. Small items only.
I could also tackle some of those accumulated heaps of unidentified stuff that seem to hang around. I know all workplaces have them, but a library seems to attract a very special sort of detritus. For instance mystery account books with a balance in old money that no-one knows where to file. A plaque commemorating a forgotten anniversary, now slightly chipped in one corner. The planning documents for a building that was never actually built. A Heath Robinson style contraption with a slot at one end and a piece of wood at the other, which no-one now remembers the purpose of, but Doreen who used to work here and still comes in on Friday teatime might know something about.
Have you got anything odd in your library?

Guilty secrets

Was saddened to hear of the death of JD Salinger - his "Catcher in the Rye" has long been a staple book among young people and students especially. They generally come in on a Friday tea time to borrow the book so they can read it and hand that long overdue essay in on the following Monday morning, and then bring the book back complete with notes in the margins. We also had the odd earnest teenager who would request it and then renew it endlessly, and who always hated giving it up to another student. (I won't mention the one or two who borrow the York notes instead of the text itself. I frown at them!)
I have to confess to a slight sense of guilt here, for I have not read it. I'm sure every reader has one or two of these up their sleeves - books you think you should read but inexplicably haven't. Anyone with a love of reading has that list of stuff they should read, and "Catcher in the Rye" is on mine. Along with "Ulysses" and "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" and anything by Trollope (Anthony, not Joanna), and "Moby Dick"........ and so on and so on. There is a certain amount of snobbery about the so called canon - the books that anyone who claims a love of books should read. But should there be any should about reading - surely it's about enjoyment? If you don't like Jane Austen, well you don't. I don't like caviar, so I don't feel obliged to eat it just because it's expensive and highly thought of.
And yet, and yet....as a librarian I have to admit that I get a certain amount of pleasure when a child asks for "Treasure Island" or "Huck Finn" instead of the latest sub-Potter fantasy book. Or when a teenage girl who you expect to ask for Manga asks for Charlotte Bronte instead.
I'm also at the age when it seems an awfully long time since I read certain things, and some things are surely better a second time around, but how to find the time to re-read, when my to-read heap of books is tottering out of control?
It's about taste, time, inclination, a certain amount of trying stuff out, and the occasional rich indulgence (mine is Georgette Heyer). Bit like eating really. Books are food for the mind, after all.
What is your guilty secret or special pleasure?

Lizards in the library (with apologies to Lucy Daniels)

"It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!" shouted Mr Borrower from the reference department. Ann looked around, and saw that a child had left a toy animal on the floor. It looked like a crocodile, and was lying under the bookshelves.
"No, Mr Borrower, it's just a toy" said Ann kindly. Mr Borrower was always quite excitable. Ann went over and bent down to pick up the toy. And then it blinked.
Ann jumped and gave a little shriek. Mr Borrower said "It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!"
Ann thought fast, and grabbed an empty box, and put it near the creature, which ran in gratefully.
Luckily for Ann, she knew someone who worked at the vets, so she took the box and showed them.
"That is a bearded dragon" said Mr Harris the vet. "It won't bite you, it's just a baby." It looked like a big baby to Ann, but she thought that maybe someone had it as a pet, and it had got out somehow, and come to the library to keep warm. When she told Dave the caretaker, he thought it was a joke.
Dave came in the following morning, and was putting up some shelves. All of a sudden he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked around, he saw a lizard on the floor. Mr Borrower wasn't there, but if he had been, he would have said "It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!"
But Dave knew it wasn't a crocodile - he picked it up gently, and took it to the vet, to be reunited with its friend. They will stay with the vet until someone comes to find them, or the vet can find them a new home - a library is no place for a lizard.
But now, when anyone comes into the library, they always look down to see if there are any lizards on the floor.

The first in an occasional series of stories - do you have a library animal story? Squirrels in the Stack? Rabbits in the Reference Library? Lions in lending? Chameleons in the Community Room? Iguanas and Index Cards?
Please let me know.

Snow business like library business...

So the carpet is a disgrace I agree - mud, snow, and grit do not mix well with 80's issue carpet tiles. And yet we are open, and have remained so throughout the bad weather, despite being regarded as "non-essential." Depends who you ask on that score. We do not, granted, supply food or fuel, yet the woman who staggered in on a snowy Wednesday afternoon and spent a grateful half hour in the (relative) warm of the library, choosing books for bed, was awfully pleased we were open. Several people seemed to not realise it was snowing at all, and were startled at the suggestion that we may close early because of a lack of public transport. My local high street bank, which shall remain nameless, but did receive a hefty wad of taxpayers money recently, were shut this morning because of the weather, and when I saw the staff stood outside, I was told that "they need a cup of tea before we open." Hmm. Public money, public responsibility.
So it hasn't been easy, and I'm sorry, Mrs Snodgrass, I don't know when the binmen will collect your recycling, but we are open as usual.

Reviewing the situation

Managed to crawl into work through the ice and snow, and a fog of post-chemo tiredness, to make sure I still have a job and to check my emails, and it seems that as well as all the invites to xmas dinners and parties, and the news that the fax machine at such and such a library was out of order on the 18th of December, I have also had several emails about "the future of the library service." "My views" are wanted!
Scary stuff - apparently this is part of a national review of library services, to "empower, enrich, and inform." So, what are libraries for, and who are they for, and how do we make sure they do what they are supposed to do? Big stuff for a little old librarian to deal with. And yet I do believe we make a difference, and can continue to do so.
So, library folk everywhere - make your voices heard. Talk to your bosses. Email Margaret Hodge at libraryreview@culture.gsi.gov.uk , and speak to your borrowers/members/customers to see what they think. Leave a message on this blog and join the debate.
Shout now or don't complain when they bulldoze your library!