<< Back 11/20/02 Seeking the stones of knowledge Libraries’ role in society worth guarding closely By Jeff Minick A library has a sense of the holy about it. Like many churches, some libraries offer refuge to the contemplative, to those seeking a place for reflection. Like some churches, libraries are also quieter places than offices or schools. Even in noisy, busy libraries — the West Asheville branch library comes to mind here, with its long single room, its children’s department busy with story hours and puppet shows while at the other end of the long room adults busily punch computer keys — there are mothers shushing their children, reminding them that they are in the library. All my life I have loved libraries. From the great public library in Boston that I used to visit weekly to the little library on Ocracoke Island that is never open when I infrequently vacation there, libraries are for me holy places. I seek them out wherever I go, drawn to them the way a pilgrim is drawn to places of veneration and prayer. The first library that I ever remember seeing wasn’t much as libraries go, a book mobile that visited our street in the summers in Boonville, North Carolina, a moving van of books so small that my friends and I would have to wait our turn to go inside and select a few books for the week. Here were all my favorites: the Hardy Boys; the Childhood Of Famous Americans series; books on war and sports and foreign lands; a wonderful book called, if I remember correctly, 75 Ways a Boy Can Make Money, a volume that I used several times to badger tolerant neighbors for jobs. Since that distant summer, my love for libraries has only intensified. Wherever I have lived or traveled, I have tracked down libraries the way an aficionado of ale tracks down pubs. The library at West Point is where I initially read Once An Eagle, a novel of war and the military that is now required reading at the military academy. The little quiet library off El Cajon Boulevard in San Diego is where I first met Philip Marlowe, America’s greatest detective. In Charlottesville, Virginia, the library used to face the statues of Lee and Jackson on the square, and I once walked out of that fine old building into a warm southern evening that smelled somehow of flowers, earth, and history. In the stacks of the library at the University of Virginia I read political books, mostly about libertarianism, then called the vice-presidential candidate for the libertarian party, Roger McBride, who lived just a few blocks from the library, and asked him to explain several details for me. Even the worst library I have ever seen, a closet in a trailer at the Hazelwood Prison here in Haywood County, contained a copy of Bill’s Big Book, and so introduced me to the principles and inspiring stones of Alcoholics Anonymous. Libraries also have employed me at times. In Winston-Salem, I worked during college at our public library in the downtown area, shelving books and leaving in the late evening feeling heavy and sleepy, as if sprinkled with magical library dust. At Wake Forest University, I worked in the microfiche department, a service of the library that today must surely be as defunct as the manual typewriter. Here in Haywood County our libraries do the citizenry proud. The buildings are not only relatively new but attractive; the collections are above average for a county this size; there are programs, books, videos, and recordings for all ages and interests. Recently, however, economic hard times have caused many libraries to tighten their budgets. This year the Asheville-Buncombe library system, for example, started charging for many of its video rentals. Other systems have endeavored to cut costs in a variety of different ways. Although I have over the years assisted our libraries by accruing astronomical overdue fees — I sometimes pay late too, thereby in effect running a tab like a man in a bar — I thought that since libraries had given me so much over the years, it was time to try and give something back. For pointers on how to help the library, I called Nan Williamson, who is the branch librarian of the Haywood County Public Library in Canton. Like many young people, Williamson completed her undergraduate studies and then worked in restaurants before settling on a career. “I loved books,” she said, explaining why she became a librarian “and I had a dream of connecting books with children.” Williamson earned her master’s in library science, now called information and library science, from Chapel Hill. Meanwhile, she had taken up hiking and backpacking, and had fallen in love with Western North Carolina. When she graduated, she found a job here in Haywood County. When asked how patrons might help their local library other than by joining the Friends of the Library, Williamson offered several ideas. Memorials are very popular, she said, and though some people bring a specific book to the library as a donation, most pay for a book and let the library order it. (Let me point out that patrons may donate money to the library without that donation being contingent on Aunt Maybelle’s demise. Let me also point out that librarians may inadvertently overlook a certain category of book that a patron knows well. If an expert on early Christianity, for example, found that the library had little to offer on that subject, then a donation might be in order. Keep in mind also that anyone may request that the library order certain books for its shelves.) Theft of books and videos is another major annual expense for the library that might be solved by conscientious patrons. “It amazes me how many books and videos walk out of the library,” Williamson said. This theft, which is a problem for most libraries, knocks out a substantial portion of the budget and causes headaches for librarians and patrons alike who may be seeking the missing book or video. “I’d like to ask people to remember that the books are here for everyone to share,” Williamson said. Williamson also mentioned that consideration of employee feelings would also make the library a more rewarding place to work. “Occasionally we get people angry at us about the strangest things, things we can’t control,” Williamson said. “People will wonder why we don’t have a certain book or why it’s available in Waynesville but not here. It wears on us after a while.” When asked how she ordered books for the library, Williamson said that most of them must have a general appeal. She also relies on the suggestions of patrons. “If people ask us to buy a certain book,” she said, “I almost always order it.” She pointed out that many patrons also order books not found in the Haywood libraries through interlibrary loan, a process that takes time but that usually puts the book in the patron’s hands. When I observed that the libraries in Canton and Waynesville seemed to have a different take in areas as diverse as religion and hunting, Williamson agreed. “Canton and Waynesville have different populations, and I try to keep that in mind,” she said. “I try to match the books we order with the people here.” Matching the books with the people — that’s the noble idea behind any library.