Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Unusual life in a library

     Not too long ago I was asked about the most unusual thing that has happened to me while working the the library. This gave me the opportunity to think back on 12 years in libraryland.
     I started out as Public Relations Supervisor, and though my title has changed and other responsibilities have been added over the years, I still spearhead public relations and marketing efforts. As a result, the bulk of my day is not spent cataloging material or providing service across a desk. I work with the Friends of the Library and the Foundation. I appear on radio shows and tell the library story to a variety of groups throughout the community. And I have a lot of opportunities in the library afforded me only because my flexibility. 
     There was the day, for instance, when I babysat a baby bat burrowing under a box. To be fair, the bat had no interest in being under a box, but what could we do? It was the middle of the day, the bat why lying on the floor of our mezzanine, and patrons were walking past.  We could not risk anyone touching the bat.  What if it was rabid?  The chances were great, after all, that the bat was not well.  Why else would it have found its way into the library in the middle of the afternoon?  We were not screening Batman or even Stellaluna (which is a lovely children's story of a fruit bat adopted by a family of birds). 
     I nonchalantly set up a cart of books, readying them to be shelved, while trying not to draw too much attention to myself or the box upon which I had perched a pile of hardcover books (it was one feisty little bat), as I waited for the fine folks from Wildlife of Wisconsin to show up and rescue our bat.
     About an hour later, a leather-gloved volunteer appeared. To me he was a knight in shining armor. At no time during my many years of schooling had anyone taught me how to address wildlife issues. He stuck his hand through the box and pulled out the bat. He explained the the bat was healthy, just a confused.  After all, this was a juvenile bat, not used to being away from its family.
     This volunteer took the little bat to give it a thorough check up and release it back into the wild.  A normal day for this volunteer, but a baffling experience for this librarian.  And just one of the many memories that brings a smile to my face. 

Monday, May 27, 2013

Connections

     I'm reading Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Book Store by Robin Sloan. Though not very far into the book at the moment, part of it is about connections. I've noticed recently that of the quarter of a million items at my public library, I often grab related books. Sure, I read series fiction, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about picking up a book that takes place in London (Falling Angels by Tracy Chevalier) and following it with a book that takes place at the English seashore (The Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn Club by Gil McNeil). Or reading a book about the making of a situation comedy (The Next Best Thing by Jennifer Weiner), then reading a book about the making of a movie The Lawgiver by Herman Wouk).
     There's nothing on the covers that would connect these books. In fact, often the pertinent information is covered by library barcodes and genre stickers (yes, I know, the bane of all library patrons). It's as if an invisible string takes me from one book to another. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but sometimes I find myself reading several books set in and around Savannah or Paris, both places I've never been. In the past several months I've read The Piano Shop on the Left Bank: Discovering a Forgotten Passion in a Paris Atelier by Thad Carhart (yes, I knew from the onset that one takes place in Paris), then An Unexpected Guest by Anne Korkiakivi and The Bookseller by Mark Pryor, both also set in the City of Light. 
     Generally, little thought goes into selecting a book from the library. Rushing through the library, I suddenly remember that I'm pages away from finishing whatever is on my bedside table, or that I just returned the audiobook I was listening to in the car, or that I'm going to be spending some time with my grandson and he may just take a nap. I better have a book in my bag. I grab something handy. If it doesn't grab me quickly, I'll return it and borrow something else.
     So how does it happen that I read two books in a row set in California? I'll have to pay more attention. Meanwhile, thank you Mr. Sloan, for helping me identify the phenomenon. Now to figure out why it happens . . .