Strange Weeds

Weeding today, I came across another great find:

The Art of Aluminum Foil by Jane Hinton and Hugh Olleer (1974).

The introduction:

"Of the many new materials that offer a challenge to the artistic imagination, one of the most appealing is aluminum foil.

It is inexpensive and readily available.

It is not essential to know what foil is in order to make things with it, any more than it is necessary to understand the nature of pigments in order to paint pictures.

Among the fascinating projects described...making a model bird, a fairy princess costume, a popcorn chain (this was the best- imagine scrunched up tin foil balls on a piece of string - thank goodness we have the step by step instructions!!!)

Three small tumbling boys come trotting into the library. They survey their surroundings, zigzagging in a rag tag manner back and forth jostling one another. One spots something on the staff picks book display, and literally drags his pals over, saying "Put on your goggles" (they are fresh in from the pool) One boy does, yellow goggles in place, he stands in front of the book display, as his companion chants, "Look look!" All three boys burst into simultaneous expressions of disgust, exclaiming, "Eeeewwwww!" The boys boys swing away as if stung, with mischievous grins....

Bewildered I wander over to see what part of my newly replenished display of staff picks has offended them! This is the book cover! Oh. I hadn't even given it a thought when I put it on display...!

Gilgamesh

Rural Australia, 1937 as the world awaits a war, struggle and hardship take their toll on the surviving wife and daughters of man who was never meant to farm. As he lay dying, he thinks, "There has to be some point to it...perhaps it worked itself out in the following generations." His daughter Edith is seventeen when the visitors arrive. Her English cousin Leopold and his Armenian friend, Aram. Full of tales beyond her narrow horizon, they relate their travels beyond to an archaeological dig in Iraq. Two years later, Edith travels in search of Aram, traveling to Soviet Armenia when the war begins trapping her son Jim and herself, for the duration.

My single criticism of this fascinating novel is that the protagonist, Edith writes several letters to her dear cousin, they are long flowery and even quite literary letters. Up to this point in the tale she is actually portrayed as a mindless disappointment to her intellectual father, a girl who doesn't go beyond the eighth grade. It's hard to dispel this image as her inner life is revealed only in the third person narrative...The richness of the writing sets an seductive mood as a girl on the cusp of womanhood embarks on an epic adventure. Suspense builds as through the creation of taunt relationships intertwined with world events, geography, a melding of space and time. The environment, rugged and harsh echoes the inner struggles of each character, the relentless pace of time. Moments of clarity spin the plot hither onto interesting avenues, yet unexplored.

"It was then as Jim lay on his bed and heard their voices in the kitchen, that he realized that these sisters, the Clark girls, beneath all their travails, their air of martyrdom, their touchy pride, had never denied themselves anything that they really wanted. They did what they wanted to do , and always had, and they had a good time in their own way.

He thought of the generations of nameless dogs in the family, trained to stay at home and guard the women.

He had to get away."

~Gilgamesh by Joan London

Is this book for you?

"Is this book for you?

Think about it:

For yourself:

A. Get out of a rut
B. Break a habit
C. Earn a bit of income
D. Become more popular
E. Travel and meet interesting people
F. Or just have a challenge..."

What you may ask, is this incredible book?!?!

Silhoette Cutting for Fun and Money by Ann and Deidre Woodward.

Yes, really, silhoette cutting may change your life! The younger one has a BA in Graphic Design, so it looks like mom (a former research asst. with the US Congress!!) roped her into this! Lucky girl! It gets even better...

"This book is dedicated to the thousands who have asked, "How do you learn to cut a silhoette?"

Apparently thousands have not asked this question in our library, in fact, only eleven people in the last 19 years have pondered the possibilities of silhouette cutting...Furthermore, this is purportedly "a craft that holds the fascination of a Mona Lisa..." I love how she says, "a Mona Lisa" as if there are many...do you feel the fascination, are you being swept away by it?

By the way, this image is NOT from the actual book. The images in the afformentioned publication would only alarm or bore

The Kindness of Strangers

I had a transportation crisis this morning.

Today of all days! I've been awaiting my big chance to do my first family storytime at the downtown library. Of course at 2:00 am last night I was polishing off my preparations, having procrastinated most of the week on this, but no matter.

About two blocks from my house, the chain disengaged and became jammed on my bike when shifting gears (my bike is such an old school road bike that I try to change gears as little as possible, I think the burn is good for my figure!). After a near accident I managed to dump my heavily weighed down bike (books! books! puppets!) on the side of the road. Grease smeared up my arms and across my leg, which is tremendously bruised at this point. In near tearful frustration, knowing I would surely be late after returning home, and getting all my stuff to the car and searching for parking downtown...I in total desperation asked a nice looking couple if they knew anything about bike gears. Obviously I shouldn't be riding a bike!

Dressed quite nicely and out for a stroll, I had a feeling this muscular fellow wouldn't want to look bad in front of his lady. Soon he had my bike flipped over and was as grease smeared as myself, exclaiming, "What did you do to this thing!?"...the best is yet to come. A curious older man wandered out of a nearby apartment building and inquired if we needed anything. The couple smiled and the grease smeared fellow said, "Hey daddy, do you have a screwdriver or something that we can knock this with?" The fellow took a look, nodded and headed off, after a bit of discussion. The fellow helping me out shouted, "Thanks, daddy!"

Okay, well that 's interesting I thought. Friendly folk. The girl wandered closer and said, "Uh, do you know that guy?" He replied, "Heck no, I'm just trying to see how many times I can call him daddy!" I looked from one to the other in utter astonishment and burst out into laughter.

They had me up and running in no time at all. I have to admit that I probably pressured the guy into helping me and he was a little reluctant to actually get dirty at first (I don't blame him). I have to say things really started to happen when I said, "Oh dear, I'm going to be late for storytime down at the library!" He looked at me in surprise and said, "Are you a librarian?" On an affirmative answer, he really kicked it into high gear! And his partner asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

...One librarian back on the road in a mere fifteen minutes, with the help of three random strangers. Only five minutes late, grease smeared and sweaty. I think I made a terrific impression. Well, I was asked to do two more sessions there, but alas I'm already working. And this storytime was my best yet. Maybe I was still high on adrenaline!

I've never asked so much of strangers before. I feel so much gratitude towards these people who I don't even know...I would do the same but somehow you don't expect it of others.

It was the Title...

...that piqued my interest. Dancing at the Dead Sea: Tracking the World's Environmental Hotspots, by Alanna Mitchell. I recently started reading the Weathermakers but got lost somewhere in the first few chapters. Too much was happening in my life and it seemed to be a book written by a man for men. I'll come back to it later. A quick perusal of the book jacket and inside pages revealed more endorsement than I have ever encountered. Powerful Men. With names like Blair, Suzuki, Kennedy. There were others but those are the ones that I recall, which also says something.

If environmental degradation interests you, climate change etc., and you are perhaps more interested in the peoples, societies, cultures of the world and their interactions with the environment thus far, this book may be more up your alley. Allana Mitchell of the Globe and Mail was named best environmental reporter of the world in 2000, by the World Conservation Society and the Reuters Foundation which resulted in a term of study at Oxford and this publication. She travels, visiting: the evolutionary incubator of Madagascar, fossils and oil fields of Alberta, the parched land of Jordan, sunken graves in the Arctic, the rainforests of Suriname, the innovative energy options in Iceland, and the scorched lava landscape of the Galapagos. Lyrical and romantic at points, veering into the personal but staying focused on the essential humanity of the problem, the very nature of humanity which has triggered such catastrophe. A few excerpts...

"The scary thing is that the business of species conservation is sometimes just that fragile. Sometimes, it's just a question of being in the right place at the right time. Miss the plane, cancel the trip, get a touch of malaria and, bam, a species goes extinct or gets that much closer to the brink. Mittermeier has been telling me about the Bali mynah. It's a brilliant white bird with a blue eye that lives only in Bali. There are just a handful left in the wild because the birds have been caught so efficiently for the trade of live birds.

But they breed well in captivity, and there's a program at Bali Barat National Park to increase their number. For some reason though, the program wasn't working well. Mittermeier was in Bali and happened to have some time to check it out. It turned out that the wardens who were supposed to stand guard over these mynah birds were so poorly paid that they didn't have enough money to buy gas. That meant that they couldn't keep up with the armed poachers who kept invading the mynah breeding center. A check for $6000 (U.S.) was all that was needed to make the breeding program a success."

Another example...

"Iceland's secret is that it is not a land of inert ice but of kinetic steam. It is one of the few places in the world in the throes of constant geological creation, driven by the force of heat far below the surface. Volcanoes spew lava, and geysers boil water on this metamorphic island. Earthquakes daily crack open new fissures in the land, exposing the inner workings of the planet. In ancient times, the island was thought to contain the maw of hell, a voracious opening to the eternal fires of the netherworld."

And another....

"Just beyond is a broad, flat stone the circumference and height of a table. It has the feel of a sacrificial altar. I stumble and touch it to steady myself. My guards stiffen and the other guards swirl fiercely around. Mittermeier tells me urgently to take my hand away. Then I notice the dominant carving, repeated everywhere. It is a single, wrenching face, eyes wide open, mouth stretched in terror."

Gonna read it?

Firsts and Favorites

So much has happened in the last few weeks!

My first baby time (for at-risk mothers!)

My first round of booktalking (summer reading program!)

First roomate (a good friend and no more living/drinking alone! Kidding!)

First funky old apartment (as opposed to simply old/ugly/neutral).

First time having an ocean view from my BED (small glimpse of water).

True love.

Oh yes, and my first webcam! The last two go hand in hand. Don't get the wrong idea.

Amidst all this happy fuss, I needed to unwind with something, familiar - I tend to revisit authors when there's too much going on. I laughed my way through Sue Townsend's Number 10 Downing Street a few years ago...I do love British humour, but particularly when entwined with news headlines, which she does perfectly! I recall reading about the life of the adult Adrian Mole, a somewhat pathetic anal man whose life is constantly spiraling out of control ... As a woman who in the last few weeks managed to break a toe jumping a fence in the middle of the night, and who also recently fell up a unmoving escalator, and who upon moving managed to forward my mail to the wrong address...I identify, slightly. The last little while I have enjoyed reading The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 and The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole.

Old classics dating back to the early eighties, they never failed to produce an uproar with the older classes as I booktalked and read excerpts. Two teachers muttered in disgust afterwards that they had hoped to learn about brand new materials at the booktalks. WELL. I was in clear listening distance. Let's clarify that the books were a hit. I had kids coming up afterwards to try and take them away. These teachers just wanted a shortcut for selecting read aloud materials. I was a teacher, been there, done that. But lets not forget that good literature transcends time and is new for each generation. Shall we toss Peter Rabbit? Gosh, I was a toddler when Sue Townsend wrote these books. Ah well, I leave you with some pleasing excerpts from the Growing Pains of Adrian Mole.

Sunday October 24th

The dog went bezerk and ripped the Sunday papers up today. It had no explanation for its bizarre behavior.

The hall was covered with pieces of newsprint saying "Ken Livingstone today defended" ... "Falklands upkeep rockets to 700 million" ... "Israeli soldiers watched helpless as" ... "trouser zips enquiry" ... "Fireman will accept 7 1/2 % but mood is explosive"...

I swept up the pieces and put them in the dustbin and put the lid on the outside world.

Wednesday November 10th

My mother has gone mad cleaning the house from top to bottom. She has taken all the curtains and nets down. Now anybody passing in the street can look in and see our most intimate moments.

I was examining my spots in the living-room mirror tonight, when O'Leary shouted from the street: "There's a fine pimple on the back of your neck, don't miss that boy."

It's taken me fifteen years to appreciate the part that curtains have played in civilized English life.

Monday June 7th

My mother
Clair Neilson's cat
Mitzi

What have the above all got in common?
The fact that they are all expecting babies, kittens or puppies. The fecundity of this suburb is just amazing. You can't walk down the street without bumping into pregnant women and it has all happened since the council put flouride in the water.

By the way, there are actually Adrian Mole computer games (old school!) hence today's graphic!

Quirky Encounters

Man in corner laughing with eyes closed, possible hyperventilating.

Quite elderly with cane.

Patron asked me to check on him.

Seemed annoyed with me.

Hello, are you okay?

Annoyed response of affirmation.

Yes? Just checking.

Moments late he proceeded to take a chair from one of the computer terminals and wheel it around with stack on the seat. His personal shopping cart. He has then THREW them on the circulation counter and walked away leaving the chair.

I guess he just has a breathing problem. That sucks.

Also, a nine-year old girl approached the desk.

Does the library have really old movies?

Yes, do you have one in mind?

Really old....

Ok.

Star Wars Episode 6.

I feel soo sooo old.

Wild red hair, leathery face, woman perched on scooter peering at me...

What'ya gotta do to take this newspaper outside while I smoke a cigarette?

Uh, sorry they have to stay inside (never mind the fire hazard!)

How about a magazine, they can be checked out?

Sure, I'm waiting for a friend, just need somth'n to look at.

Strong southern accent.

This is the same woman who moments earlier amazed me by zooming into the library at high speeds on an electric scooter and didn't even stop when yanking the bathroom key smoothly off the hook and sharply rounding the corner to the bathroom. That's skill!

Well-Booked

Latest entry of interest from Word Spy this week...

well-booked adj. Having access to a substantial number or a wide variety of books.

Example Citation:Bill McCoy, the general manager of Adobe's e-publishing business, says: "Some of us have thousands of books at home, can walk to wonderful big-boxbookstores and well-stocked libraries and can get Amazon.com to deliver next day. The most dramatic effect of digital libraries will be not on us, the well-booked, but on the billions of people worldwide who areunderserved by ordinary paper books." It is these underbooked - students in Mali, scientists in Kazakhstan, elderly people in Peru - whose lives will be transformed when even the simplest unadorned version of the universal library is placed in their hands.-Kevin Kelly, "Scan This Book," The New York Times, May 14, 2006

Read the whole article on google's digitization project - available from the Canadian Newstand database via your local public library website...

I think it is mean spirited, I have to go to the federal government and get forms before I can get any more money...I'm stubborn I'm half Irish, half Norwegian, and half English. Tough as nails, I wouldn't be 64 if I wasn't. I'm tough, not violent, I believe in peace. I'm going to get a studio and be an artist but right now I need to get those forms filled out. I'm about peace, not violence, I'm a hippy but all the hippies are bums or lawyers now....Why are they all so mean-spirited now?

A drunken homeless man just came in yelling, not sure what to do ... I finally just stopped what I was working on, stood up and was about to walk over when he said, "Oh I'll stop complaining I'm just waiting for the washroom." Yet it continued a bit more...

Now there is a HUGE man with special needs asking, "Who is talking in the library?" I just shrug and say, "I don't know, some man...."

What a circus tonight! He's out of the washroom and talking solely to me now rather than the entire place, I want to interject with a "please keep your voice down," but I also don't want to rile him up more. He is now complimenting me for being a good listener and apologizing for the fact that he's been drinking beer all day....hmmmm. An old man with beautiful eyes that should be someone's kindly father or grandfather at this point...

PS - several staff members expressed discomfort with how long I allowed him to go on. One was about to get a male staff member from the back when he disapeared into the bathroom. It's always hard making a judgement call as the supervising staff member, but I felt comfortable with the situation. I do find it a bit annoying that no one had any problem with him talking solely to me, it was only when he was loudly talking to the whole library...Oh no, a dozen people are trying to write emails, better keep it down!!

I like to leave alone...

Tonight I'm going to post a couple entries that I wrote during the week but couldn't post due to technical problems! Yes, Friday night and home again! Although, it doesn't feel like the weekend for those of us who work all day Saturday! I trolled the waters for fun but everyone is engaged in family commitments, studying for exams, heading to sports games, etc. That's okay, for those who know me, I've been actually having a lot of fun lately with a particularly great guy - soooo.....anyways.

This week, I helped an incredulous seeing impaired fellow find literary quotations, jokes, and photocopied an article on immigration for him, all the while trying to change the topic or express non-verbal disapproval of his rants about "letting all the immigrants in." Eventually he got around to questioning my age, my education, and finished off by asking me what time I'd be getting off work. I vaguely replied, oooh, pretty soon (5 hours away!)...early enough to enjoy the good weather (or not)...

Someone asked me the other day what things I'm scared of...and I didn't really think much of it...but I'd have to say my personal safety sometimes as a woman living in this city after dark...I can handle all the characters you can throw at me within the walls of the library, there's strength in unity and power in a nametag (yeah right) but when I leave at night, I just hope no one is waiting. Ever.

Unless he has four legs...

Home on the Bayou: A Cowboy's Story by G. Brian Karas

I love the illustrations, the yellows, the greens that permeate each page as a child moves from "the west" to "the swamp" to unhappily join his widowed grandfather. In the car ride over, he remains silent, in fact, "he rather eat cactus spines than answer his mom." I remember the aura that "new kids" always brought, fully of stories that soon become tiresome of some other, better, place. When I was teaching, I had a student from West Africa (Dutch?) who was always trying to fit in and always failing and who was always speaking of his homeland and the father who was still there. I love children that talk about their fathers, especially at the age of eleven or twelve.... I wanted to tell him - you don't need to fit in with all the other little monsters, just be yourself and it will get better. For any child that's ever moved this is a great book!

From the sentimental side of things with the children's picture book featuring strangely neutral and washed out rabbits...My Wishes for You by Adele Geras and Cliff Wright.

"I wish you...

Light from behind the hill spilling into the sky...

A path that goes from here to everywhere...

Trees wide enough for you to hide behind and drifting shadows, pieces of the dark ...

which vanish as the sun moves through the leaves..."

Barcode Bonanza

Elderly male patron approaches reference desk.

He places a paperback novel on my desk: Gaywyck by Vincent Virga and addresses me:

I have a complaint to make.

You see the barcode here, is placed in a way so that you can't see the face of the second person. It would be better to know the gender here. That's all. Thank you.

OK!? I very kindly wrote a note for the patron and affixed it to the cover, setting it aside, smiling and nodding (but inside I was full of the giggles). You see there were a number of other clues that may have lead the library patron to fully comprehend the subject matter of this particular literary choice...

The title, or the cover... I mean there are other features besides the face that are almost obscenely male...! And just a few lines from the back of the book...

Robert - "his soft blond hair, emerald eyes, and porcelain skin," "a seventeen year old sent to catalog a mansion's vast library..."

Donough - "Master of Gaywyck" is the "epitome of elegance and sophistication..."

Another librarian observed that the barcode was placed further to the left than usual. She suspected the catalogers were having a little fun with it!

"A single molecule from a sea of information"

Morgan O'Brien investigates research fraud for the "National Council for Science and Technology" in Ottawa. This adventure (or misadventure?) finds her heading to Vancouver's beautiful "University of Southern British Columbia" which sounds just like UBC, right down to the description of "C-Lot" parking...hmmm....The characters in this novel are fairly colourful, yet not always believable and unfortunately the "who-dun-it" plot drags out a bit at the end. I somehow doubt that the science is at all credible, though the idea of crooked professors siphoning funds into research that may cripple the fishing industry is novel and provides a unique backdrop for this mystery.

One other fascinating aspect of the Morgan O'Brien mysteries is the emergence of many characters of varying sexuality and the undertones of questioning in regards to her own sexuality. It never dominates or drives the novel, but adds a unique element. My favorite character is Sylvia, formerly David, who is now dying of cancer and providing research assistance to Morgan utilizing her skills as...you guessed it... a librarian! (Although it appears her route to the career is somewhat unrealistic as you may notice...!)

"After finishing her PhD in physics, Sylvia left the labs to get a second doctorate in Library Science, where the level of tolerance was higher than in the sciences. She quickly became an EXPERT in LARGE scientific databases and is known for her ability to PLUCK a single molecule from a sea of information. While officially there is no such thing as a forensic librarian there should be, because Sylvia's online searches could expose scientific fraud like an x-ray reveals a bone."

Just me and the blog...

Friday night and it's just me and the blog. I'm keyed up and yet totally exhausted from a day of car troubles and apartment hunting! Nothing like sitting on the couch watching a good movie- I'm going to recommend it even though I've only seen the first half hour- Le Role De Sa Vie, a Montreal film festival winner in 2004. The case is all in French so I had no idea what I was in for...so far it features the downtrodden good girl, pleasing everyone but herself...her perpetually late with the rent roomate, her new selfish actress friend, and her oblivious employers. I am anticipating an explosion or cartharsis may be coming soon...Anyways, I think I'll save watching the movie in entirety, for another night!

Doc Film Next Sunday

I've been kind of hooked on documentaries lately, what I like to think of as "real films." So, this is just a heads up on an interesting documentary that will be shown on the Passionate Eye (CBC) next Sunday night, the 3rd of June. I believe I've seen the second half of it, but not the entire film. Here's the synopsis direct from the website!

"At the heart of Thomas' programme are the powerful personal testimonies of people, aged from eight to eighty, who have suffered because they are "different". As these stories unfold, a radically new view of human sexuality begins to emerge. With the help of contributions from some of the world's leading experts as well as access to their latest research, Middle Sex examines the key influences that shape sexual identity and sexual orientation .

The conclusions are startling. In the words of neuro-biologist, James Pfaus: "There are as many sexual orientations as there are faces.""To suggest that the simple categories, male/female, hetero/homo are adequate to describe the whole range of human sexuality is to ignore science and the evidence of nature."

"One thing we have to remember from Darwin to Kinsey to any great thinker about sexuality," says sexologist Professor Milton Diamond, "is that variation is the norm. Biology loves difference. Society hates it."

Filmed in eight countries - from the Americas to the Far East - Middle Sex is also a fascinating study in repression and denial, revealing how culture and religion shape (and frequently distort) our attitudes to sex.While the scope of this programme is hugely ambitious, it remains intensely personal from start to finish. The trust shown all the participants as they share their most intimate feelings and experiences is unforgettable, and makes Middle Sex such a profoundly humane and profoundly disturbing experience."

Today I sought out contact information for Captain Nichola Goddard'sfamily. She was the first Canadian soldier to be killed in action since World War II. She was the same age as myself.

A library patron wanted to send a card expressing condolences. As it is a fairly common last name in the area, we ended up finding the contact information for St. Barnabas Anglican Church, the location of the memorial service. Sending a card to express condolences is hard enough for me when dealing with loved ones, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, so the idea of writing to a complete stranger seems rather radical. On the other hand, it is truly touching they way people are compelled to reach out to complete strangers.

In other less sober contemplations, how do you politely ask a co-worker to stop talking to you? You know, the type of co-worker that provides a continual stream of conversation framed as advice for the new professional but constantly side-tracking into the personal, the bizarre and the deep depths of workplace gossip. It was a very entertaining afternoon, time passed quickly, however, I am assuaged with guilt, undone tasks, and just more guilt. I'll have to go home and clean out a closet or something.... But I must say that I've observed that the chattiest libraries are the happiest libraries when it comes to staff job satisfaction. I myself am guilty of quite a lot of chit-chat, particularly when I'm am happily working alongside any of my favorite co-workers that I may not have seen in a week or two.

I'm off to a librarian party and it's supposed to be a rager. My brother smirked and said, "Oh really? You've been waiting two years for this!" My friend and partner in crime is unable to make it out with me due to illness, (feel better soon!) and now I'm dragging my feet a bit not knowing who will show. Truth be told, it's an archivist party and that's a whole 'nother thing.

Quit it!

Has anyone ever quit a job?

Not just quitting for the sake of moving into another position, or returning to school...but quitting because you can't take it anymore, it is sucking all pleasure in life or work right out of you, and no amount of money on this earth will make one more minute worth it?

Hmmm. Well, I recently dropped myself from the on-call list of one particular department at one particular branch for this reason. The environment and the supervisor were making me re-think my entire career choice, which is a terrible thing because 99% of the time I truly love my work, even the dull bits.

Unfortunately, I fired off a hot little email - I lost my head completely... Always let the resignation letter percolate overnight!

Well, today my blog has been bombed with comments from some hot-headed reader- It isn't a big deal because I approve all comments. I allowed the comment on my posting, "Knock Knock Knock" even though the writer takes a rather aggressive stance towards me--ie. "Well let me tell you my lithe hussey, though I am not quite the tender young (and oh so special) spring chicken you portray yourself as..." But enough is enough, 4 other comments so far this afternoon! All of them are pretty harsh towards me and my inaptitude with Dewey.

The long and short of it is, that I am beginning to wonder if this is my OLD BOSS posting comments?

Tssk tssk, I know that blogs can become very self-indulgent, but that's the very nature of the beast. Certainly, I will be a little more careful with my postings, another bit of self-censorship enters the equation, and if this continues tomorrow I'm afraid comment posting will have to cease and this will simply become the one-way-ramblings of the lithe librarian....

The Dog Who Cried Wolf

"Moka was a good dog. He and Michelle loved to be together. Life was perfect, until one day, she read a book about wolves...."

And so begins his discontentment. There's a great big world beyond Eden...

"And look at the way I live, Moka sighed. I'm nothing but a house pet. He felt like a failure, especially when Michelle made him dress up for her tea parties. He wanted to be a wolf."

You can pretty much guess what happens. You can almost close your eyes and imagine a discontent spouse. Hmmm. Inspiration perhaps? This is a good children's book however, the illustrations done in watercolour are quite good at portraying the imagination and the reality of a dog's life. It is quaint and lighthearted without pushing the realm of possibility, and older children appreciate that. I had a mother with her suprisingly old daughter ILL every book written by this author. Thanks R. for passing this on!

DVD Copy

A friend asked me about getting a copy of My Flesh and Blood-there's one copy at the downtown library with 4 holds on it. I'm #4 - so if anyone wants to come over and watch it when I get it, that would be good * a cryfest, but good.

This Week's Bits and Bites from the Public

Overheard in Children's Department (mother speaking to three-year-old):

You better start managing yourself if you want to get Star Wars.

Are you going to manage yourself?

Sit up, there are other choices!

Manage yourself!

A Troubling Reference Interview:

I'm looking for books about retirement.

Any aspect of retirement?

No. Why are they all over the library?

I explain that they are often sorted by the primary topic, such as financial planning, health, etc.

I do a subject search. It's a tiny little branch, there is very little available. I notice one particular subject heading with some titles and ask without looking up, "I don't suppose your interested in books on early-retirement?"

Innocently glance up, and find myself captured in the evil glare of an enraged baby-boomer.

Ah, nevermind.

Do you know what, I think I am better off going to a bookstore! Woman flounces out.

--Note: Why do patrons always jab that to us as an insult. I say, great! If you can afford to buy a book, go and do so, you're not my primary target audience. If you have a burning interest in a particular topic, the bookstore may have more current information to suit your niche interest. The library is for general edification, education, recreation...we do the best we can with your meagre tax dollars! So there!

Found in Library:

One Chinese passport.

One pink princess purse, complete with compact, hairbrush, tube of glitter, candy wrappers.

One backseat drivers license (enscripted with: "The individual named herein has official license to criticize, annoy, aggravate and disturb operator of the car. The individual may also utilize invisible brakes on the passenger side of car when vehicle travels at excessive speeds. Authorized signature : Mathew)

Knock, Knock, Knock!

This has been a rather odd day. I thought it would be a day off, however I was called in on a last minute shift (40 minute lead time)...so besides being completely befuddled running around retrieving half-finished laundry and looking for my car (2 blocks away due to lack of parking), I made it with minutes to spare. Today, was not meant to be a normal day however.

1. I met a city engineer. He started the conversation by handing me his business card and I thought, oh no not another middle aged guy hitting on the librarian...Apparently I have become completely conceited, he simply wanted permission to take pictures of the library interior as a part of a proposal to put in air condition. I was all for it! It was hot today, I had a fan on the reference desk blowing in my face until I decided it was impairing my hearing and I had to point it elsewhere.

2. 5 minutes before the end of my shift, a man alerted me to the fact that he had been waiting to use the men's washroom for a rather long time...Oh dear. I went over and knocked - nothing, but the sound of running water and a locked door. He advised me to wait a few more minutes (I did and began to wonder if I could stretch it out to the end of my shift, but that seemed wrong). I went to ask about a spare key, a lib. tech and another librarian then enthralled me with stories of bathroom unlockings gone wrong. Yes, yes, knock VERY VERY LOUDLY first.

3. A co-worker asked me to fill out a personality questionnaire. Yes, this library technician hunted me down in the stacks and explained that he gives it to all new employees, and has for years. Over 300 surveys have been completed. Okay...I agreed before looking at it, feeling mildly concerned about providing such personal information for a co-worker/stranger.

A few examples of the odd questions I savoured during some down time on the desk...

You seem modest, even shy. YES NEUTRAL NO
You have a greater than usual resistance to physical and psychological fatigue. YES NEUTRAL NO
You have many friends and are well liked by them. YES NEUTRAL NO

Well the survey ended with information about my birth. No not just my birthdate, the time, the type of birth (c-section, clamps, anesthetic, mid-wife, etc.) and related complications, where I got this information from, and the planetary alignment. I didn't really know the answers to this part. Apparently he will email the results to me later in the week. He is trying to pinpoint some differences between clerical staff and librarians, however as the pool of librarians is much smaller, he feels the results have been all over the map. Yeah, maybe that's it...Hmmm.

My Flesh and Blood

Susan Tom, a single mother has 2 birth children and 11 adopted children with special needs. The challenges she faces with patience and perseverance are unimaginable. Faith was burned as a baby, Xenia was born without legs, and Anthony has painful genetic disease called Epidermolysis Bullosa. Most troubling of all is Joe, featured right with Bipolar Disorder and Cystic Fibrosis, who has been passed from home to home and is consumed with rage and hatred towards his siblings. Your gut reaction may be, what a nut house, why would one person take all that on? But the family seems to find strength through their united chaos and Susan Tom proves to be a woman who has been truly called on to fill this role, even when one of the children unexpectedly dies.

I stumbled across this documentary on the Passionate Eye this evening and only caught the second half. I was moved to tears, and soon I dissolved into a full out puddle of sobbing. Really, it was a fun experience. I had just spent the evening with some really frustratingly narrow minded people and needed to cleanse through a good cry. (At one point this evening, someone declared that Brokeback Mountain was an example of moral disintegration - let's just say that I was so angry, I was literally shaking and had to leave...well I tried to leave, but I didn't know the way home, so I had to wait)...ahhh, so to come home and watch something so truly about love was wonderful. It wasn't just my frame of mind that made this a great documentary though, it's won many awards, including two at the 2003 Sundance Film Festival.

If you work at a library, buy it and if you visit a library, request it!

"I really love documentaries. I really believe truth is stranger, weirder, more bizarre, wonderful, frightening, and poignant than fiction," says Jonathan Karsh, director of My Flesh and Blood (the link leads to a pretty good interview with him).

Watch the trailer on the Chaiken Films website.

Interesting ways that I have been addressed this week...

"lady do you have national geographic type of books?" (elderly woman) "Ok, thank you lady..."

"Hi new person." (teens)

"labaaarian" (snot congested preschooler)

"teacher lady" (grade 2 class)

"Hello Librarian, how are you today?" (On the phone, often, as though I am a robot) My response next time - "Why, I'm very well, Library Patron thank you for asking."

"Hello, I spoke to your secretary earlier...and I wondered if..." (this is the best yet, WOW, my SECRETARY!!!)

This Really Happened Today

Mommy, can we get some nice books?

No, they only have boring, outdated, crappy books here.

(I am within clear range of overhearing this)

Child toddles over to display.

Come along, there's nothing here.

(apparently they come in for the internet and computer games)

Pushkin sure Pushes my Buttons!

Pushkin Meets the Bundle by Harriet M. Ziefert and illustrated by Donald Saaf. This is a great team. The pictures are both classic and naive with a sprinkle of sweet. The story is quaint and ripe with emotion but straightforward without bein sickeningly perfect and pat.

The story begins with a dog wearing a sweater doing a handstand, the text reads, "I am Pushkin." This puppy is spoiled and happy, he has a child size bed with a bedside table and lamp and each night owner Kate says "Sweet dreams" and owner Michael says "Sleep tight, big boy," "We love you"....Aawwwww.

Until one day they come home with A BUNDLE. What a delightful way to describe a baby. That's really all it is to a younger sibling. Exactly, he or she is an "it" and everything changes. Pushkin thinks of running away. "Kate stays home. She pats the baby, but she doesn't pat me."

Things obviously worked out, because today I picked up Pushkin minds the Bundle which is even more fun! Pushkin's imperfections are endearing. When berry picking with "the bundle" (now a toddler) they eat lots of berries, and "Sometimes Pierre gets just the one I want. And we fight." -- the illustration depicts a dog wearing boots and a backpack pushing a little boy who is flinging a berry over his head. The little rascals! All in all, the absurdity is lovely, especially when Pushkin plays the guitar and notes that "Michael and Kate like my melancholy tunes." Nevermind the bundle, I need to get myself a Pushkin!

Latest Non-Fic

I'm trying hard to branch out. I've realized that I basically read the same book over and over, because I tend to choose things that appeal to certain interests and even though I was a English major, I have grown up treasuring reading as a form of escapism. Historical fiction? Yes!

I'm not a cyclist, though I have some aspirations that way. I have read Lance Armstrong's first biography mostly because of his fight with cancer, but I found myself fascinated with the sport of cycling. I began watching the Tour de France a few years ago. I was talking to a friend about this and we were wondering what is interesting about a 6 hour race? Not sure, maybe the high level of athleticism, single minded determination, the beautiful scenery, the spandex (no no NO - just kidding)...

Anyways, Inside the Postal Bus by Michael Barry was a nice light read. So light in fact, that at one point, I mixed up my book mark and picked up reading about fifty pages ahead and didn't really notice. Later I realized I missed a whole chunk...I went back of course. This book really jumps around and I have to say that it seems a lot like a PR campaign, the endless name dropping, no one can keep track on all the people that parade across the pages...everything is PC, there is no criticism of rules, sponsors, race officials, athletes...But I'm not athlete, and this guy, he's not a writer! A lot of things got past the editor, some sentences don't make a lot of sense. Here's one that is a little interesting...I've never managed to start and finish a sentence with the same word.

"Summers in Spain are hot, hotter than anything I ever experienced back in the muggy Toronto summers."

Little guest features really spiced this book up, the following from George Hincapie...

"Riding on a team like U.S. Postal means winning a lot of races, a lot of the time. It means riding with some incredible teammates who do amazing things."

Yup. Hmmm... well anyways here's what the athletes say... (7/10 on PedalPushers.com)

"For any reader who enjoys following the exploits of professional cycling teams, and the U.S. Postal Team luminaries in particular, this book is filled with the kind of details and statistics that allow such a reader to "talk shop" for hours with a similarly inclined competitive cycling aficionado. There are interesting flashbacks to the author's youth and his motivation to compete. There are asides about the author's wife, also a competitive cyclist, and a fair number of insights into what makes other team members tick, and on occasion, not tick. There are the required obsequities to The Lance Armstrong legend and a fairly in depth examination of the role the team plays in elevating the team hero to his winning status."

Something I noticed today...

There is only ONE person who can wear rollerblades in the library without persecution. Who?

The paperboy!

Rolls in, rolls out. Thank you!

---Is it PC to say paperboy??

What about Mary?

Quite Monday afternoon, children's department.

Phone rings (it's the adult info desk)

"A woman is coming up, her son just had two teeth pulled, he's not a happy camper, thank god he's in the car, but she's in a real rush."

"Okay, she's here."

Woman stands panting, sweat glistening on her face, gesturing to indicate she's in a rush.

I race her over to the shelf.

"We're not a violent family."

"Ok...so how old is your son?"

"Ten. But we don't like violence."

"Okay, he doesn't watch Disney or cartoons anymore?"

"No."

"Here's the Secret Garden."

"I'm not familiar with this version...I don't know if it's too...dark..."

"Here's Babe, it's really good."

"No...that movie is much too dark."

"Oh. Ummmm.... how about White Fang? Shiloh? Tuck Everlasting?"

Woman looks horrified and asks, "Um, what about Mary Poppins?"

Thank goodness, it was on the shelving cart...

All I can say, is Babe is too dark???!! Babe??!!

Sometimes, it is so good to get back to reading adult material (no not that kind, you know what I mean). I randomly picked up this one off the shelf of biographies one day while working, despite the fact that I have never read any works by this bestselling author, Victor Villasenor.

I am glad I read the entire book, though right away I was tempted to toss it aside. It has a fairly gripping opening, as the author finds himself thrust into the unexpected position of keynote speaker at a conference due to illness. He is one of the most little known and inexperienced authors present. No one at this conference for teachers has any idea what they're in for. In fact part of his speech goes like this...

"I was TORTURED by teachers! You hear me, TORTURED!" I yelled jerking the whole podium off the floor. "Hell, I flunked the third grade twice because - BECAUSE- " I was crying so hard that I had to wipe the tears out of my eyes with the back of my hand, but this wasn't going to stop me. I was all guts up front now." Okay so basically he loves using capitalization (not for artistic symbolism like annoying Mr. Fry) but basically as a constant mechanism for emphasis. Unfortunately his editors forgot to suggest italics. You actually may begin to feel he is yelling at YOU the READER.

I loved the insight this book gave me to a certain time and a certain place in American history. In light of this week's protests across the US regarding immigration, it puts some things into an interesting historical perspective (although the author grew up as a privileged well of full citizen, he experiences abuse and prejudice like I never would have imagined). Villasenor is a passionate writer, bold and unafraid to write what some might find vulgar, what some might find unbelievable...but it works well. The impossible seems possible as one person's faith is realized in such a way that is vastly different from our rather conservative, doubting Western perspective. The only thing that was a bit hard to deal with is that a certain degree of repetition enters into the narrative in terms of events and dialogue, and also the fact that the tale ends when he is still a child. Midway through the book, I can hardly believe he is still only eight years old. I also began to feel a little incredulous that anyone could remember such early years so vividly.

Oh, and this book cover is truly awful...

It's been a little while, things have been busy. Against all odds, however, I'm determined to clear the slate of books on my desk, write up on them and return them! I was at a stagette until the wee maws, and now I am coping with a very painful incision on my left pointer finger, the result of an overzealous rabbit ripping a piece of banana from my grasp...

The Hippie House by Katherine Holubitsky.

I heard a lot about this Canadian YA novel before picking it up, and I found it a little difficult to get into at first...probably in part because it's written a bit like an autobiography, as though the author is looking back into the past from a great distance in the future. And this is fiction, so I actually expected it to be a little grittier, particularly as the book is based on the discovery of a body and the changes brought to a community by the fear of an unknown murderer lurking in their midst. The protagonist is fourteen year old girl living growing up in a rural community during the 1970's. Emma is a pretty straight and narrow character, equal measure of perfect little achiever who sews and spends time with her family, and mildly rebellious and bored teenager... sounds like the way your mother would want you to picture her as a child, regardless. Half way through the book, however, I was really fascinated, and beginning to enjoy this nostalgic take on small town life, until in one of the final scenes it all falls apart becoming ridiculously contrived...but I won't spoil it for you!

What I think the author did really well, was to capture the emotions, reactions, and response of all the various members of the community to a shocking crime. And this was one of the unique aspects of this novel that made it such a worthwhile read in the end.

"Feeling powerless to fight back, the entire town was left in a heightened state of terror. After news of the second murder, doctors heard more than the normal number of complaints; unexpected illnesses - headaches and stomach aches - and absences from school rose. People developed phobias of things that didn't exist. Megan said that every time she walked somewhere she heard footsteps behind her. She was getting a stiff neck from turning suddenly to check it out....Those already predisposed to a general fear of life were paralyzed completely."

Amusing Little People

Phone rings in children's deparment. I answer.

Hello, I'm looking for my children.

Oh, okay. What do they look like?

Er, well it's a pro-d day so I bet they're the only kids there.

Uh, yes, do they have brown hair? Okay then, just a minute.

Children come over to phone, quite excited. There's a phone call for us?

Little boy picks up phone. HELLO MOM! In loud excited voice. Listens...

NOOOOOooooooooh! Nooooooooooh! I don't want to get my hair cut!!! NOOOOOoooooh! Tell Auntie Sally not so short!

Nooooooh! He hangs up the phone.

The little sister smiles sweetly and says, Thank You!

Today is the 20th anniversary of Chernobyl. I didn't even think of it until I was watching The Hour this evening. That seems like a terrible thing. It never ceases to amaze me how geography puts such a layer of indifference upon things. Not that I think everyone should mope around dwelling on all the terrible things in the world. And I don't know what anyone can do about anything...but I think we have a responsibility to be aware.

Not to get all philosophical here, but the TV is still on in the background and I just paused to catch the interview with Robert Munsch. He thinks society is a construct. He says, look at the Congo, things fall apart.... My child came home with blood running down her face, someone smacked her with a branch and called her a "nigger"...This is interesting. I've become much more optimistic about people and society lately. My upbringing (paranoid mom) taught me to trust in no one. Actually, only trust in God. Which I still do, but I don't actually view society with that much cynicism. Working with the public each day has actually improved my perception of people for the most part. So when I hear about truly awful things perpetuated by not just individuals but groups of people, I'm baffled and stricken with horror that retribution has not come their way. All those Russian politicians who let surrounding communities act as guinea pigs, not warning them, as people actually traveled closer to see the beautiful glow on the horizon, as families continued to swim and use water from contaminated waterways...Some areas will be closed to human habitation for 900 years.

What can I say. How can words express? They can't...

An astonishing collection of photographs by Robert Knoth, soon to be published can be found online at http://www.pixelpress.org/chernobyl/index.html I sat looking at these pictures with tears running down my face (one of them is posted above)...this picture had the most subtle power. The images of some of the children and babies are truly terrible I should warn you.

On the lighter side, Russia fascinates me, last week I the tail end of an excellent documentary called Moscow Freestyle (go online and watch an excerpt). English teachers from all over the world working in Russia...

P.S. my blogspot spell check does not recognize the word Chernobyl- that's America for you. And according to the newspaper, I can't spell so I wiki'd the word and apparently there is a Russian and a Ukrainian spelling (the other way is Chornobyl). I am assuming both are correct...

QUACK

Mallard Ducks are everywhere right now. They are dogging my path. I've had two encounters with them in one week. I don't live near a marshland. If one more Mallard Duck crosses my path I will consider it some sort of sign from God. I will include literary ducks in this - if anyone asks for Make Way for Ducklings or Duck in a Truck this week, I will absolutely consider the ramifications... One duck trotted out from behind my parked car and the other waddled it's way across my path while I was jogging. I believe they were two distinct characters unrelated in any way, though both were male and rather vocal....hmmm.

Choices (not groceries)

I went to the BCLA library conference this past Friday and Saturday....Lately, I've had a bad run when it comes to choices. I firmly believe that we all make choices in life and have to deal with the consequences. I have a friend that bemoans all the "bad luck" that has befallen her partner (crummy ex-wife, financial issues, etc.) But I think in most cases, it comes down to choices, admitting we all make the wrong ones on occasion, and moving on as best as possible.

Well, I chose to attend a session on podcasting and screencasting. You know it's not going so well when the presenter says, "Okay, on the count of three, I want everyone to say Ha Ha Ha!" We'll show those j-libs next door that we're having fun too!" (We weren't) We were slogging along looking at how one academic library created virtual tours of their library. Astonishing! Out of this world! What an idea...uh no, not exactly groundbreaking. And what's with the idea that no j-libs would be present in the room for a techie session? Are the two concepts mutually exclusive?
I was also thinking about choices today because I decided to use my precious day off volunteering (yes working for free) as a movie extra. A brilliant sun soaked day was spent in the dark depths of a nightclub pretending to dance without music and converse without speaking. At certain points in the day, it seemed like a poor choice, but all in all I am glad I tried it. A chance to try something new doesn't come along every day....maybe more on this tomorrow.

Second Half

To continue on with The Half Life...the story opens with this line..."Footsteps on the forest floor made a noise like paper crumpling in a child's fist...High above, the boughs of the fir trees shifted in the wind, revealing white fragments of twilight sky and the trunks made melancholy aisles into the gloom." I am a sucker for good beginnings and vivid nature ridden description. The suspense builds as a young man travels through the forest, convinced someone or something is following him, watching him, stalking him in the dense underbrush of an Oregon forest. It is the 1820's and his name fittingly is Cookie (he cooks for a group of trappers working for the Hudson's Bay Company). We follow two parallel narratives. The life and loves of Cookie in a world that is male from the West to the East, all the way from Oregon to China. The second narrative evolves around the discovery of two skeletons, hands entwined in a grave on a commune during the 1980's. Tina Plank a relatively well ajusted teenage girls (who most enjoys watching dust motes float across her line of vision while lying on her back across her bed) lives on this commune and forms a friendship with a lifecycle of it's own. This is a lovely poetic meandering read with equal measures of historical richness and mysterious intrigue. Words of caution...it stalls out a bit in the middle and I suggest skipping the movie script written by the teenage girls (I didn't read beyond the first few paragraphs, it goes on and on, I hate add-ons like this, school assignments and other "fake" kid/teen writing)...Other than that, I highly recommend it!

Half Finished Half Life

This is Jonathan Raymond, the author of The Half Life. I don't know him or anything, I just thought he looked nice, kind of like an archivist or something. Like someone I'd like to be friends with. It really helps that his book, which is his first novel, is excellent.

This is what Joy Press of the Village Voice said about this novel..."The Half-Life gazes upon those fierce but ephemeral attachments that evade the history books. Multiple plots elegantly veer across the sprawling terrain. Raymond weaves together divergent characters and time frames, even as he notes that our sense of historical continuity is largely an illusion."

I saw it a little differently, but I'll gather my thoughts later. I am running out the door to meet a friend for dessert! You know who you are! Rushing me along, calling to say your bus is going to get you there earlier than expected!! Geesh, usually it's the other way around with transit.

Gets my Back Up

For a fairly satisfying period piece pick up Morality Play by Barry Unsworth. Set in 14th century England, a twenty-three year old priest on the run joins a troupe of traveling players. They arrive in a small town and try something entirely new moving away from plays of morality as the reinact a local murder. The drama evolves each time the tale is told and brings the players and the town closer to the truth...It's a fascinating take on art imitating life and and interesting look at the hard life that sows the seeds of discontent during this era. It is an enjoyable read, though it lacks depth and passion in places, plodding along with a sense of forboding. I did find it really interesting that players had such an elaborate code of hand signals and gestures not only to symbolize emotion and elements of acting, but also to alert other players as to what will come next. They direct one another and the play evolves and grows in a truly democratic and organic manner. How true to life this is, I don't know. I almost always enjoy historical fiction, and even more so when I learn something new.

I haven't read anything else by this author - though according to the back of the book, Sacred Hunger, winner of the 1992 Booker was really something. I was only twelve then, so I don't know. I find it really annoying when an author sells a work based on previous works. I don't want to read 4 excerpts about another book-what about this one!? It's about as annoying as when I went to the drugstore to purchase a muscle relaxant for my painfully messed up back this evening- it was on the bottom shelf. The bottom. Next to the floor. Unbelievable. Thank goodness I had assistance. Right now I don't have to pick up anything that falls on the floor. I'm on vacation from picking things up until backie is all better.

Book Trailers and Blog Titles

I just watched a trailer for a book! Isn't that cool! On CBC's The Hour tonight they interviewed the Tim Flannery and played a teaser. Good idea - why don't we see trailers for books? I think I'm on a waitlist for this book, gotta double check. Heck, if Tony Blair has read it, I better pick it up asap!!!

In other news, the blog I am most enjoying this week is www.bookninja.com - check it out if you haven't already...I think I just really dig the name. Another good one is bookslut.com which is more literary. Again, wonderful name. As Paris would say, "lovit!"

I highly recommend the Book Arts Web if you are interested in bookbinding, calligraphy, printing, paper-making, etc...their links to exhibitions are extensive, particularly online sources. The above image came from Unseen Hands: Women Printers, Binders and Book Designers at Princeton University Library. Funny how that title has a little ring to it! Catchy! That's how you get a job at Princeton!

No Small Thing

This is j-lit at it's best. 100% perspective. Author, Natale Ghent has jumped into the body of 12-year-old Nathanial, a strikingly honest character whose passion is heartwrenching. His sickening feeling of guilt, his hot tears and is tender kindness make the innocence of childhood just come flooding back...

"Sometimes, something as small as an ad in the daily newspaper can change your whole life. That's what happened to Cid, Queenie and me one summer. It was 1977, the year of broken things. Star Wars opened and broke the record at the Eastview theatre by running for thirteen weeks in a row. Queenie broke her collarbone. And Cheryl Hanson broke my heart."

Other less notable books I've read over the past two weeks:

Flower: A Novel by Irene N. Watts - chapters alternate between thirteen-year-old Kate in Halifax visiting her grandparents and getting to know a ghost, and the life of a British orphan sent to Canada during wartime. A little predictable? Magical, haunting, mysterious? No. Incredibly cheesy ending? Yes...even for a ten-year-old ....

Millions by Frank Cottrell Boyce - yes the screenplay turned novel. Absolutely no setting or descriptive elements of course. A few things made absolutely no sense due to a complete lack of character development and obsessive repetition of key character traits. Kind of like listening to radio drama...still a fun draw for kids who don't like to read, it's simple and has a few funny moments...

A Million Little Pieces by Jame Fry - yeah, yeah, yeah. Drugs are terrible. Addictions really suck. So many bodily fluids. I've never spent so much time reading about vomit. Never again. The recently popularized phrase " I don't know 'ow I'm gonna quit you" comes to mind. I tried quitting the book several times, it was really oppressing me. I kept coming back, and in the end I stayed up half the night just to get the darn thing over with and find out if he can beat the devil. The prose was extremely irritating - the endless use of capitalization was contrived. I had a Moment of Clarity as I walked towards the Clearing where Lily was waiting for me, type of thing....

One of my new favorite websites is www.wordspy.com

"This Web site is devoted to lexpionage, the sleuthing of new words and phrases. These aren't "stunt words" or "sniglets," but new terms that have appeared multiple times in newspapers, magazines, books, Web sites, and other recorded sources. "

I love it! Here are a few along with my observations about how a librarian like myself might put them into use...

office spouse n. A co-worker with whom one has a very close but nonromantic relationship. Also: workplace spouse.

As 90% of librarians are women, this would be difficult to apply as a heterosexual woman. I identify with the concept and have enjoyed this type of working relationship in other environments...hmmm....

continuous partial attention n. A state in which most of one's attention is on a primary task, but where one is also monitoring several background tasks just in case something more important or interesting comes up. Also: CPA.

Oh my gosh! This is a description of my job! As an auxiliary I spend most of my time on reference working on little projects but secretly waiting for a really interesting person to walk up to the desk and sweep me off my feet (NO, just kidding!)...but this is actually a good description of reference desk coverage. CPA sounds like a disorder though...

social jet lag n. Tiredness and disorientation caused by forcing one's body to sleep at unnatural times because of work commitments. Also: social jet-lag, social jetlag.

Yes, this sounds like post-exam week last term. At one point a kindly co-worker and friend said, "Go home, turn off your phone, unplug your computer and just sleep!!!"...recognizing how truly strung out I had become...at that point difficult reference questions made my left eyelid jerk (weird eh? that always happens when I'm tired, or when I lift things that are too heavy). I was hoping that this weekend, full of library school graduation events would be a grand opportunity for social jetlag, but alas, I was safely home by 10:30 pm each evening. I'm going to get a lot of flack for this, but sometimes it is hard to get social jetlag with fellow librarians...we need more parties...we need more wild parties....

Strange Reading

The most incredible book to my knowledge this year...

The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death - essay and photography by Corinne May Botz

Criminal investigator Frances Glessner Lee, founded Dep of Legal Medicine at Havard in 1936 and later became captain of New HampshirePolice. In the 1940's and 50's she created dollhouse crime scenes based on real cases to train new detectives. Her collection was named after the police saying, "Convict the guilty, clear the innocent, and find the truth in a nutshell."

Still used today, 18 dioramas on a scale of 1:12. This essay is the product of archival research , interviews with Lee's family and police colleagues... the author says, "I was entranced by the details: the porcelain dll witha broken arm in the attic, the grains of sugar on the kitchen floor, the fallen book with a flying witch on the cover. I was also riveted by the miniature corpses. Shot in bed, collapsed in the bathtub, hung in the attic, and stabbed in the closet: all were eternally frozen in miniature rooms that had become their tombes. Literary quotes accompany magnificently eery photographs from the interior of each dollhouse. The images are often up close, capturing one corner of a room and all the intricate detail that went into design. And beyond the small detail, the colours and interior design are wonderfully vintage and interesting in themselves.

Visit the e-portfolio of Corinne May Botz to see many of the photographs featured in the book...
http://www.bellwethergallery.com/artistsindex_01.cfm?fid=28

Everything I need...

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need. ~Cicero

I spent some time at a gardening centre yesterday. It was a little like being at a library, but unfortunately, it was a little busier.

The staff were almost run off their feet. Their reference skills were extraordinary.

One woman started me off, then excused herself for five minutes while I browsed, helped two other customers, returned and guided me through several areas of the centre looking at vines, a trellis, pots, she hauled 6 bags of soil and manure onto a trolly for me. Most impressive was the way she constantly asked questions to elicit further information about what my needs were, adjusting them slightly as we went along... full sun, but actually shaded roots due to a balcony wall...lot's of space, want to grow up not out though, a bit windy, so need hardy plants, soil blowing away last summer, need more mushroom manure, have a pet so avoid poisonous nightshade varieties. It's complex.

Anyways, at the end of it all, I realized that the trellis probably wouldn't fit into my car. A elderly woman overheard as she was loading her SUV and asked where I was headed to (another neighbourhood entirely). I informed her, and she offered to drop it off for me. We started folding down seats and measuring the width of her vehicle. A complete stranger! What unbelievable kindness. But alas, it didn't really fit into her car, and I thanked her anyways. There is such a comradery among gardeners. When browsing the same area as other people, it wasn't unusual for a conversation to be struck up. Total strangers would frequently smile at me. What a wonderful place, I think I shall go there more often. It's too bad that the library isn't a bit more like the gardening centre.

Pay up!

I think the sign hanging over my head says "information,"

but in fact, it must say "school supplies"...

Maybe it's an alternate reality thing; the students actually see something different, like a mirage at the end of a long semester...

What I don't mind:

"Hi I was wondering if by any chance you have a ruler I could borrow?"

What I do mind:

"Hey, I need four pieces of paper. And also, I need to go to class, so can you grab my print job when it's done?"

(student leaves, print job is picked up by other student and I spend morning fretting about missing paper)

Most frequent question this week: "Do you sell ____?" (fill in with memory stick, floppy disks, CDs, whiteout, highlighters, silly string...)

There is NO cashregister at my desk. Do people try to buy things from you? What's the best thing you've been asked for?

Also, a side note, George just said...
Da Vinci Code sold 40 million copies in hardback, it just came out in paperback and this week it sold 500,000 copies. His comment- who's buying it, doesn't everyone have it? Are people buying a paperback copy as well - "Don't tell me your a Dan Brown collector, puuulllease!?"

Does he think they're real?

Middle-aged man approaches the reference desk...

Hi, I'm looking for books on dragons.

OK, Any particular type? Myth, folklore, picture books?

Uh, no. Information about dragons.

OK, So some sort of mythology.

No. I need to know their size, weight, physical description, where they live...?

Oh.

Anger in the Library

All sorts of emotions flood through the library, it's a public place after all. Last weekend a jittery "young man" (that makes me sound old when I'm not) with a black hoodie pulled up (yes, inside the library) approached the desk. He was interested in finding books on cargo ships. I knew it was going to be a different kind of experience by the lengthy pause that ensude after asking him how I could help. He just looked at me without smiling for several awkward (for me anyways) seconds (seemed like minutes).

As I expanded the search to freighters, transportation of goods, and something else that I can't recall at this point, he became increasingly agitated, swearing under his breath and moving from foot to foot, side to side staring intently at me. I found a few leads and headed out into the stacks with him. He paced ridiculously close, nearly stepping on my heels which is unusual because I'm a fast walker.

When I began scanning the shelf for the items in question I was distinctly uncomfortable with the lack of space between us. I did my usual dramatic sweep of the arm, and said "Let's see what we have here," hoping to move him aside. No luck.

I tried to engage him in conversation to distract him as I continually side-stepped. "Is this for school, or ?" And he cut me off declaring, "It's for my career!" I simply nodded and said "Oh, I see, well there are a couple of organizations you could try, some internet sites, and the central library downtown probably has the most extensive resources..." He stared at me and said, "I want to start here, ok?"

While I scanned the shelf he was hovering much too close and continually saying "fuck" in increasing volume. There were small children nearby. No one seemed to be taking notice at that point however. Anyways, this basically continued through out our search as we moved to several different areas of the library. He radiated tension and despite his frustration and anger made slightly inappropriate small talk and continued to invade my space.

My gut reaction was to finish up as quickly and smoothly as possible. I look back now at this point and wonder if I should have been more assertive. I know I was just hoping to avoid confrontation. If anyone else had appeared to take notice of his language, I would have said, "Please don't swear, there are actually children around here" ...but as it was I let it slide. If I was older and wiser I would have said, "Please give me a little space here."

As it is, I feel like a dismal failure in the assertiveness department. I'm assertive in many other areas of my life (as some of you know). I have been known to speak up at grocery stores, (I once said, "You are the worst cashier I have ever had" which I felt quite bad about later though it was fully justified), I have told pompous professors what I really thought, I have told parents that their children are bloody nightmares (in less offensive terms), I have stood up to an arrogant school principal, I cried my way into free veterinary treatment, I pushed a rude man away at a dance club and his drink went flying as he hit the deck (he must have stumbled, I'm not that strong) and the list goes on and on. I am also a big advocate of personal space. I don't know why, but I have a fairly large bubble for such a small person. Anyways what do you think about this? Where do you draw the line? How do you?

Tommy Boy

This story was written by Stewart Tiley, librarian at St. John's College, University of Cambridge, England. Great talent, I love reading his stories and he has been kind enough to let me post this one.

Poor Tommy

Poor Tommy, he lay dead in a ditch. It was me and the Cordish boys who pulled him out. He was so cold even the leeches had dropped off him, although they didn’t me. We had to climb through the briars to get to him. Still got the scars see. His neck were broke, but that didn’t stop him dribbling still. We laid him out amongst the mole hills and everything on him was torn.

So why’s he dead in a ditch? Well there’s a lark. ‘Where’s the ditch?’, you should be asking. Cos the ditch is off Beacon Batch Lane, as it goes over the brow where the gibbet was. Deadman’s Cross. And the dead they thrive round there. My granddaddy would tell me that, “They ghosties’ll draw you in, if you’re lonesome of a night in a lonely place”. Their spirits would get all stirred up in a place like that and make a boggart, out stalking hedges for the lost like the white owl stalks the vole. My granddaddy knew it. You couldn’t set your eyes upon the thing but you’d die cos it weren’t something for mortal man to see. He just caught a glimpse of it once he said, once when he was young, and coming from town late one night. Like nothing he’d seen or ever wanted to see again. Making a pleading, bleating noise which carried on the wind. He said he’d not been able to see without a shadow in his eyes for four year after.

But Tommy, he wouldn’t have known. You could have told him the story a hundred times and he still wouldn’t have known. He’d just dribble at you and smile cos you were talking to him, until you wanted to punch the story into his face. So when he gets a fancy to a nice young piece in one of the farms out that way, that’s the road he chooses to take. He wasn’t any harm to her I shouldn’t think, only out for looking. Offering help for her daddy so’s he could peek from the shed whenever she walked past. No hope of any union though, her father was a sound man, and Tommy weren’t exactly the handsome type a maid might risk anything for. We’d see him skulking off in the morning when we were out in the barn, and we’d warn him as he went. But we could see nothing was going in. It was all chaff in the wind that blew between his ears. Week went by and he’s still off each morn. Well, we’re thinking maybe being an empty vessel he don’t register. But then he don’t come back. And he don’t come back for three days after, and we figure it’s beholden on us to look out for him. So off we sets, and there he is. And we haul him out and we all know what’s what and there’s no need for questions asked. Who knows what he seen? It’s something he weren’t meant to see and something that knew he was seeing. Something dark in the darkness.

See the orchard there. That was the land his daddy left him. Just that little bit was all they had in the world. There was a shack there where they’d lived, his family, for many a-year. Tis ours now, of course, cos he had no-one left, and it was going begging. He’s buried out there too. Yes, he’s feeding the russets what your drink there is made from. Well may you look at the sediment queer. Unbaptized, see. Vicar weren’t keen on having him in the consecrated ground. Might make it go bad. But over there he’s all to the good.

Teen Fic Part II

The Lottery by Beth Goobie.

Shunned for an entire year by every student in the school. Why? Lottery winner. Well, actually, lottery victim, the bearer of bad tidings, the gopher for the school's notorious Shadow Council. This year, fifteen-year-old Sally Hanson. What makes her different? She's seen death first hand. She has her own demons to deal with. This is nothing.

I thought this book would be fluffy. Girl triumphs over evil. It was a lot better than that. It's not a sophisticated or poetic read, but it's suspenseful and unique. The most fascinating aspect of the story for me was the author's ability to confront the norm. What is the norm? People run the gamut. At what point on the spectrum of mental health is a person unwell? We each see the world a different way, and we each cope in a different way. Sally copes in interesting ways, and I love the intimacy of her relationship with her brother. Their bond is amazing and something many authors would shy away from. I can garauntee mockery during a lit. circle setting. But it's interesting...

CLA YA Book Award nominees

It's tough writing annotations for books that you've never read. Furthermore it's difficult to write them in a way that will appeal to teens. Note to self: do not use "schoolish" book report terms such as "protagonist," "climax," "conveys," "realistic portrayal".... You get the idea.

It is also easy to get into the trap of glamorizing all the drama inherent in these works. You find yourself writing over and over things like, "and their lives will be forever changed by what she discovers," or "the consequences will be tragic and life altering" or "his actions will have disastrous consequences" or "her life is spinning out of control." But hey, isn't that what being a teen is all about? Bring on the angst!

Here are two titles that I've read this week that are shortlisted for the CLA YA Fiction Award this year:

Swimming in the Monsoon Sea by Shyam Selvadurai

Highly over-rated. Yes, it is dealing with a boy discovering his sexuality (he falls in love with his male cousin)...yes, the setting is fascinating (Sri Lanka, 1980, monsoon season)...yes, the literary element of mirroring Amrith's inner turmoil with the raging weather and the drama of the school production of Othello is clever (though contrived) ...and yes, it has a beautiful cover.

BUT...

I found the prose to be stilted, the suspense was weak as the plot meandered along, and Amrith is an unlikeable figure. He is often mean and small and in fact, he almost kills his female "sister" holding her struggle body beneath the water in sheer rage. We don't have to like the protagonist, but their actions should make sense...where did all this rage come from? It doesn't grow or develop in an authentic way. The character development was weak, with so many vague figures. And lastly, when the book closes, Amrith decides to keep the knowlege of his sexuality to himself for the time being. Okay, fine. But the inner workings of his mind and his thoughts on this issue are cloudy and uninteresting. He spends a few hours huddled in a beach shack thinking about this self revelation and that's it. Life goes on? Hmmm.

Okay, part II later today...