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To those of you kind enough to follow this emerging blog, I wanted to say thank you and to also apologise for the lack of posts over the last two months. You all know I had a Year of Reading Dangerously planned for 2017, which would be tracked through monthly blog posts, as well as the normal news, insights and reflections on working for frontline public library services… So far, I know that little of this has appeared.
Sadly, in mid-February, my mother became unexpectedly and critically ill due to suffering a massive hemorrhagic stroke. Whilst initially saved by a fantastic surgical team, to whom we will always be grateful, it emerged a couple of weeks into her recovery that she was suffering from a particularly aggressive form of terminal cancer. Whilst she had been feeling unwell for a couple of months before the stroke, none of us ever imagined the scale of how ill she really was.
On 8th April, mum passed away peacefully in hospice surroundings. We are lost without her.
I hope it’s understandable that writing has not really been something I felt able to focus on since mum first became critically ill, and so the blog has fallen by the wayside. However, my mother was always my biggest supporter and is probably the only person who has read every post I’ve written on Send in the Librarians – I’m sure she would say that it’s all just part of the role of being a mum, but I hope she never underestimated how important that support was to me. She was also always my main champion, encouraging me on this career path in libraries – indeed, it was my mum (as I’m sure many others will agree) who introduced me to libraries when I was a very small child. She always had a library card, and through her influence, so did I. Twenty years later, when I got my first professional library position, mum shared lots of memories with me about our early visits to the library, where I was apparently always fascinated by the story-times, the polished Victorian counter and the date-stamp. My mum also used to say that growing up, I’d always want to support the underdog, the one struggling – she thought that was why public libraries appealed to me as a career: it combined my love of books with my need for equality. I guess my mum – like most mothers, I suppose – saw things in me that I was never fully aware of. And she always believed that I should keep writing, even if there was no one else but her willing to read it, because “when something matters deeply to you, you nurture it.”
My mum shaped the person I am today, and losing her has been painful. But whilst it’s currently too hard to think about doing anything “normal”, I know I will come back to this blog and continue it fresh in time, with new ideas and purpose, and with her constant spirit of positivity.
I hope that, like my mother, you will also continue to read on.
Despite working in libraries for a number of years, and despite working for numerous bookshops of all types before this, for a very long time I have actually been quite a one-trick pony when it comes to my own reading habits.
I read fiction. That’s essentially it. Not to say my professional awareness isn’t to a high standard; I keep a very close eye on the “Book Headlines” (as I refer to them!), I make sure I check the Waterstones bestseller list every couple of weeks, and I try to stay current with what’s trending on social media, amazon kindle, different prizes and awards etc… All of this for both non-fiction and fiction, adult and children’s. But my own, personal, unique reading habits have always centred around fiction – I barely ever stray from this, although occasionally an interesting biography, collection of poems or historical work will make it through my rigorous screening process. And then I met my partner – and I’m happy to say that, because of him, my little pocket world of fiction has expanded dramatically!
Because if there’s anyone who “reads dangerously”, it’s my boyfriend – he isn’t afraid to take leaps and try new things, regardless of whether that’s a new medium (as I mentioned in my previous post, he braved the likes of Audible first), a new author, or just a subject he hasn’t tackled before (when we moved in together a few years ago and combined libraries, I was intrigued to see an eclectic mix of science-fiction, bee-keeping, scientific essays, biographies ranging from Simon Pegg to Barrack Obama to Richard Feynman, chess manuals…) It’s very inspiring to live with someone who isn’t afraid to try new things by flinging themselves in headfirst – although it can be quite intimidating too!
Advice for catastrophist-types, like me: it’s worth taking a stab at reading dangerously in imitation of these literary-explorers in our lives, because some of the things you’re introduced to are undeniably fantastic. For example, in my case: graphic novels.
I’ve never had any involvement with either graphic novels or comic books before; my partner (frankly) is obsessed with them. He has a huge comic book collection, and a graphic novel library to rival it. Before I met him, I had tried some graphic novels borrowed from work – stuff like Tamara Drew by Posy Simmonds and Maus by Art Spiegelman (both excellent examples for a novice graphic novel reader to begin with by the way!) But the problem that I think always held me back is the limited relationship that public libraries have with the medium, especially in relation to acquiring popular titles and series – we push fiction novels on customers like it’s the new wonder-drug; children’s books need little help from us to be popular, especially with today’s financial situation wherein our twenty-book limit is a God-send for keeping kids occupied for weeks at a time; and non-fiction has a healthy audience of interested learners, enthusiasts and experts.
But, historically, our graphic novel resources have always been poor – and knowing little of them in my personal life, the avenue was further cut off by limited options for exploration professionally. The two I’ve mentioned above were pretty much all I had access to in my previous service, where I was working before I met my partner – pretty poor odds, given that graphic novels and comics are becoming a new trend in the literary world, one which is growing stronger every day.
It’s not just the services I’ve encountered either – the biggest problems for graphic novels and comic books in library authorities across the country all seem to cry out with the same voice:
Over the last year in particular, my partner has gotten me to try more and more graphic novels – and the more I read, the more I become disappointed with public libraries for not sticking our necks out and trying a bit harder with the medium. It’s surprising how much they have to offer in areas I had never really considered before – in many ways, they fit into lots of attitudes and approaches library staff embrace towards encouraging recreational reading and literacy. For example, they’re often a lot quicker to read because you’re absorbing mainly images rather than text – perfect for when you need something to fill that “book hangover” feeling between reads, or for when you’re tired, stressed, over-whelmed with things to do…
The art-work is beautiful. There’s nothing “lesser” about graphic novels, and anyone who tries to argue they’re not “proper” literature needs their head examining – literature is supposed to question, inspire, emote, re-imagine, escape… My partner has recommended some graphic novels to me that do this in spades – more than some “proper” literature has ever done. The artistry involved in telling the story, depicting the characters and settings, illuminating the issues and themes being explored also encourages readers to look at illustrations and pictures in a new way, appreciating art as art – I mean, it’s only a short step from showing a young adult or a child a comic book and then leading them to discover Roy Lichenstein and the Pop Art movement; art history and literature working hand in hand to broaden awareness.
For “reluctant” readers, graphic novels are often a perfect compromise. Since discovering graphic novels through my boyfriend, I have seen their value in this regard from a professional aspect. A few months ago, I gave a young eleven-year old boy on one of my class visits graphic novel versions of Poe’s “The Raven” and Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Grey” because he was complaining that classics are boring and “I just don’t do reading, Miss”. I told him to find me when he brought them back and tell me if he still thought classics were boring – when he came back, he took out both the graphic novel and the standard version of “Treasure Island” by Stevenson, and my day was made.
And finally, some of the best graphic novels I’ve come across through my partner provide the most astonishing and inspired re-imaginings of well-known novels, themes and narratives I’ve ever come across – much better than some of their prose counter-parts and valuable in their uniqueness. For example, “Capote in Kansas” by Ande Parks looks at Capote’s investigations for “In Cold Blood” at a standard which rivals either of the films made about the same subject; “In Real Life” by Corey Doctorow handles the whole “online life vs. everyday life for teenagers today” issue better (in my opinion) than teen favourite Rainbow Rowell; and the “Lumberjanes” series by Noelle Stevenson sets a much better example of friendship and adventure for young girls than some of the gender stereotyped prose series (like Cathy Cassidy or Daisy Meadows) released for 9-14 year old’s today.
So yes, exploring this new medium has been surprisingly eye-opening, as has really made me think twice about going outside of my reading comfort zone again – as per my Year of Reading Dangerously manifesto! By following my boyfriend’s example – “what’s the worst that can happen, Vee? – you either find something you love, or you’ve just found something you’ll know to avoid in future…” – I’ve been surprised by how much I’m enjoying graphic novels, and how valuable they are to all different types of reader for accessibility, story, art-work, individuality…
The next challenge is to help make this a more prominent resource within public libraries; as with all things, I’m going to start in my own library by making a more central feature of graphic novels and encouraging others to step out of their comfort zones by giving them a try. Who knows, maybe it’ll catch on, at least within my own service? We can but try… and I’d urge you all to do the same, because (like me) you might just be surprised!
And if you have been inspired, here are some of the best places to start your GN journey:
If you’ve particularly enjoyed any graphic novels/comic book volumes and think public libraries could benefit from sharing them, please let me know – all suggestions gratefully received!
I realised that it’s been quite a while since I did one of my “Weird Things People Say…” posts – usually I try to write them down whenever one crops up, but lately it’s just been so busy that I’ve barely even taken them in as they’re being said…! However, unfortunately, there are always things being said about libraries and (often) directly to library staff that would probably be better left unsaid…
And so, prompted by all those moments, welcome to my Special Edition post: “Weird Things People Say In Libraries… But Shouldn’t!”
~ “Listen here, my taxes pays your salary!”
They really don’t, just incidentally. When people snark this at me, I like to respond by telling them that actually, for the last tax year 2015-16, the entire Culture sector (which isn’t solely limited to libraries but covers all of media, sport, museums, galleries…) only amounted to 1.6% of the total public sector expenditure for the year – as opposed to the whopping 5.3% national debt interest or the even more astonishing 2% government administration. If you want to throw that accusation around, maybe pick on someone working in Whitehall? At least it would be more factually accurate.
~ “You don’t have a copy here, and you want to charge me £1 to transport it in from another library? Forget it, I’ll just buy it from Waterstones/Amazon/W.H.Smith…”
This one irks library staff on a number of levels. Firstly, we understand it’s frustrating when we don’t have a copy of something right there on the shelf for you, but that’s also sort of the principle of a library service: people borrow stuff. And when it’s the new Jeffrey Archer or Lee Child, can you really expect it to just be sat there on the shelf? It’s hardly realistic, is it? Secondly, we don’t make the rules or invent the public library system, so why yell at us and throw our corporate competitors in our face? And finally, just what is the logic? We’re charging a nominal fee! But you’re going to storm off and spend eight times as much (if it’s a paperback; if it’s a hardback you could be looking at twenty times that!) on a book you probably don’t want to keep afterwards anyway? Madness.
~ “It must be lovely to work in a library, sitting around reading books all day.”
Again, this one really irks library staff! Because where has this idea that library staff don’t actually do any work come from? It’s quite insulting really – anyone who listens to the radio or reads a newspaper these days should know that we do a thousand times more varied and challenging tasks than even ten years ago. Plus, it’s just rude to insinuate with no prompting that someone gets paid to do very little. I mean, I wouldn’t say to a playgroup worker or childminder, “it must be lovely to just spend all day playing and colouring.” Nor would I say to a train driver, “it must be lovely to just sit looking at the countryside as you chug along all day.”
~ [to their children] “Shhhhhhhh! You’ve got to be quiet in the library!”
No, you really don’t. I mean, I don’t advocate to parents or other individuals that they should run around the place screaming at the top of their lungs (and when this does happen with some children, I do step in) – however, the idea of completely silent, make-a-noise-and-you’re-banned-for-life style public libraries went out with the Ark, to be perfectly honest. No public library worth it’s salt now has a silence policy. Sure, we have quiet spaces for studying etc. but on the whole, we like – nay, we want – a buzz. We want people to use our libraries, and why would they do that if they’re afraid of them? I’ve worked in libraries for almost seven years and I’ve never shushed anyone. Ever. So come on people, stop perpetuating the myth and help us keep buzzing!
And finally, the worst of the worst…
~ “So, I bet you’ll be out of a job soon, right? Have you heard yet when they’re closing this place?”
I’m not kidding, people genuinely say this to us all the time. It’s beyond rude and aggravating, but what really gets me is that they’ve usually read one headline or heard one news story and gone straight to the assumption that we’ll be out of a job! I also have always found it bizarre that people think the best way to handle this is a) to directly question us about it and point out how precariously balanced our careers are, and b) to then expound for ages on how wonderful libraries are, how much we all need them and how awful it would be if we were closed down – it’s nice and everything, but we work in the library, we clearly know how important they are and how awful it would be to lose them – so stop telling us and go and make some noise to your local MP, local councillor, local newspaper, anyone instead who can do something to stop it!
January so far here in Wessex has seen snow, sleet and frost – and my poor listed library has suffered as a result, with the frost in particular getting into the timber framework and cracking it from the inside out. Our poor building has seen many generations of librarians and library users come and go, so it’s sad to see it start creaking now – but luckily, after months of raising our voices about it’s worsening condition, repair work has finally started.
Not that this is without its own set of problems – building management is hard at the best of times, but when you’re trying to keep the library open and live for customers, running events and groups and services on a “business as usual” premise, you suddenly find yourself thinking about things you would never normally imagine. Like secure recycling bin compounds, or out of hours scaffolding alarm sensors, or amended fire procedures… So, to switch off from it all, I’ve been going back to literature and reading – a lot. Because it’s far less stressful and time consuming to deal with the fictional libraries contained in stories, and it’s also a lovely feeling to escape into places where libraries don’t need defending; where their worth isn’t stipulated and they play big parts in people’s stories – where you dont have to spend 18 months arguing that the unpredictable British winter will rot parts of your building…
Which has prompted this: the Wessex librarian’s top five fictional libraries worth checking out (literally, your local library contains whole other worlds – don’t miss out!)
Matilda, Roald Dahl – is there a better starting point than the public library that set Matilda off on her magical journey? And the testament to open-mindedness and encouragement that is Mrs Phelps, her public librarian – people can argue with me all they like that it’s a stereotype, the middle-aged lady with glasses working in the library, but I loved her when I was little because she didn’t bat an eyelid at a child wanting to read things even grown ups find difficult. And as I’ve gotten older, I like it even more because it sums up to me the essence of libraries: reading is for everyone and we are there to encourage that – especially if it’s a little girl wanting to read Moby Dick…
Hogwarts Library (Harry Potter series), J. K. Rowling – it’s certainly interactive, like any good library should be! Although I’m kind of glad our restricted section only holds valuable books, not ones that curse you or scream when you open them or try to eat your fingers… And chocolate is banned(!?), which would just never happen in my libraries – I like Madame Pince a lot less than Mrs Phelps for these odd rules. But the library is often integral to Harry and his friends working out clues in their adventures, which is refreshing in a modern children’s book – I quite like the whole magical spells cast on the books to prevent defacing or stealing too…
La Belle et La Bete (or more commonly, “Beauty and the Beast”) – this is actually a bit of a trick one because, in the original tale of the mid-1700s, there isn’t any focus on libraries or reading – it all centres on the rose. However, I am one of those stereotypical little girls in the sense that I adored Belle’s library in the Disney film and my librarianship career is just my way of chasing that unattainable dream… Even though I also grew up reading the French fairytale at the same time. Life is full of ironies. Its a good read and well-worth it for the comparison though; to me, the happy medium lies somewhere between film and book!
Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury – again, this is another somewhat backward one, given its bleak subject matter and the fact that books are objects earmarked for destruction… But what gets me about this is that those who still dare to read are strengthened and emboldened by them to stand up despite the danger. The fact that it’s the burning of the old woman and her library which sets Montag on his journey of self-discovery has also always resonated with me – I can’t imagine being in a position where, like the old woman, I feel so passionately about a library and what it means to me that I would give up my own life to defend it (although I hope I would, were the situation similarly and morbidly apocalyptic…) Again, it shows how libraries speak to people, even in fiction, and that is a valuable thing.
The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two, Catheryne M. Valente – this children’s series is fabulous, not least because it features a dragon-like character who is (amazingly) half-Wyvern, half-library (a Wyverary, aptly and whimsically named A-Through-L!) who helps the main character on her quest across Fairyland. Again, libraries are here celebrated and shown as valuable assets in the search for adventure – and Valente champions the cause with a gusto that I admire wholeheartedly.
So saying, I will end with a fantastic quote from the novel, which really sums up all that needs to be said – keep it in mind when you (hopefully) go to find a new world in your own library… and spread the word!
“A silent Library is a sad Library. A Library without patrons on whom to pile books and tales and knowing and magazines full of up-to-the-minute political fashions and atlases and plays in pentameter! A Library should be full of exclamations! Shouts of delight and horror as the wonders of the world are discovered or the lies of the heavens are uncovered or the wild adventures of devil-knows-who sent romping out of the pages. A Library should be full of now-just-a-minutes and that-can’t-be-rights and scientific folk running skelter to prove somebody wrong. It should positively vibrate with laughing at comedies and sobbing at tragedies, it should echo with gasps as decent ladies glimpse indecent things and indecent ladies stumble upon secret and scandalous decencies! A Library should not shush… it should roar!”
This is a half-serious, half-frivolous post, but a little humour is always good for the soul, especially on a Monday! The other day, I was reading my weekly email update from CILIP, which had a link to an article all about the declining presence of “Library Cats” in America. They are – or maybe were? – clearly a huge occurrence in libraries across the USA, and I am certainly familiar with the story of one “Dewey”, resident cat to Spencer Public Library, Iowa (if you haven’t read the book, I urge you to do so…)
However, by contrast, library cats are most definitely not a phenomenon here in the UK. I work for a council-operated library service, and I think our Health and Safety team would hyperventilate at the thought of potential allergy, hygiene and/or minor injury lawsuits that having a cat on the premises could cause (we are now a nation of almost obsessive-level Health and Safety policies; believe me, I have to manage all of ours in my lovely, quirky listed building, and they are quite endless!) So I’ve yet to hear of anywhere in the UK that has a permanent resident library cat – although I came close the other month, when my partner returned home in raptures about a cat that had wandered a few times into the main library of the university where he works. He’s an IT technician, but works formally within the main library building to support and maintain all their tech; he loves the fact that because we own two 7 month old kittens, the library staff now refer to him as “Cat Man” and fetch him every time this University cat sneaks in, because he’s apparently the only one who knows how to pick a cat up in the correct way.
Other than that, sadly UK library cats seem a rare breed. To me, this is a particular shame, given the previous post I’ve done discussing the benefits of Reading Therapy Dogs. All of the articles and non-fiction novels (like Dewey) I’ve read which discuss library cats cite their calming influence and how they draw people visiting the library out of themselves in myriad ways – from the soothing motions of stroking and fussing their fur, to the non-judgemental “feline listener”, to socialising through speaking to other patrons who are also just as enamoured with their local library character. They are an equally reassuring, secure companion to staff-members as well, who can gain distraction and escape from the intensity of community-centred work through caring for their four-legged colleague. Cats are independent enough to be able to climb out of reach or disappear into staff areas should they have enough of the attention (as can often happen when small children are involved) and they are also perfectly trainable, provided reasonable time is taken – the potential for allergies or small scratches really is the only issue, but if you have a sociable cat (which surely they would be if they endure a customer populated environment!?) then unless the cat is under stress, they’re unlikely to scratch.
Owning two cats, I’m not exactly unbiased when it comes to contemplating their benefits in an environment that centres upon supporting, furthering and improving health and well-being in the local community – such as a public library. But I do think that, similar to Reading Therapy Dogs, cats have a lot to offer. I’ve certainly found it easier to relax and switch-off since we got our Egon and Hero (no, surprisingly I did not choose the Shakespearean name, that was my partner – secretly he’s the intellectual, and I’m frivolous, Ghostbusters-humour girl all the way…) Playing with them, fussing them and just generally having something to focus on with love and attention has really helped a great deal in lowering my stress and anxiety – it may sound hard to believe, but when you spend whole weeks focused on all sorts of different customers experiencing increasingly varied needs, with limited staff, resources and funding, it proves surprisingly exhausting…
And speaking of my two kittens, recently I’ve been noticing that they seem to be inclined towards books and libraries themselves. Perhaps I am training them inadvertently through bringing my professional habits home with me, or perhaps living in a household full of books is rubbing off on them… Either way, they show talent! As rescue kittens, they had quite a traumatic start in life and so are still very nervous of people other than myself, my partner and one of our close friends (although I think him feeding them treats every time he visits really helps solve that problem…) However, watching them follow me around as I organise our home library and work on my Chartership studies, their curiosity knows no bounds – I think they would make good library cats!
If nothing else, by following me around, they have reminded me of the similar empathy and dedication that (as a human library professional) you ought to have, and which you also ought to keep building on throughout your career. For example…
Would you like to borrow our copy of “The Great Cats-by”?
You must be confident you know your way around bookshelves, and not just for subjects and genres you like personally – reference sections, quick-choice, reading schemes, children’s picture books, local history resources, maps and special collections… You never know what sort of request you’re going to get, and neither can you guess the type of person that request will come from – as Hero demonstrates, you need to know your bookshelves! And for that, you need to make the acquaintance of our most revolutionary classifier: Melvil Dewey.
You ought to be familiar with both the wider literary and library world – specifically national initiatives (like Love Libraries Week, World Book Day, Banned Books Week etc), landmark dates (as Hero is again demonstrating here by getting to know Mr Shakesbear), local community or awareness days, and any other key messages or outreach programmes that you’d expect libraries to support. Good ways to keep track of these include: SCL Public Library Universal Information Offers; the official CILIP website; the UK National Awareness Days website, as well as many more!
Similarly, try to become familiar with as much current “book news” as possible. Yes, libraries are branching out to cover many different types of community resource now, from social support groups to pre-school sessions to job searching assistance, and everything else in between – but a huge proportion of users are still focused on borrowing the traditional book. So you should be up to date! Don’t care for Prizes or Literary Awards yourself? Tough – customers do, and they expect you to know. A famous author has a new release or the Bake-Off is back on TV? Be aware! I’ve found there are some quick and easy methods to manage this though e.g. scanning Waterstones’ bestsellers/new releases on the website; checking Radio 4’s latest “Book at Bedtime” or the Radio 2 Book Club choice; or, as Egon elegantly models above, having a quick skim of the Guardian Books headlines…
“What shall we read next? Something by Truman Cat-pote? ‘Anna Cat-renina’?”
Finally: READ. I’m not saying you need to have gone cover to cover through every book in the stacks, but it’s easier and more professional to meet people’s needs if you’ve engaged with the environment. If you can read widely, brilliant – it makes it that much easier when you get a tough “can you recommend…?” query, or quicker to draw a title/author to mind when someone’s struggling to recall it. Reading widely can also make you more empathetic and approachable with others as you have a broader social, topical and emotional awareness (although don’t get me wrong, I’m not claiming simply reading more books will suddenly make you a customer service pro…!) But it does raise your professional game in relation to our core purpose as a library, and that’s a very important thing.
I’m very proud of my little library cats in the making, although sadly given our current focus on H&S here in the UK, I think the only library they’ll be manning for the foreseeable future is the one we have at home. But hopefully, as with Reading Therapy dogs, the holistic benefits of approaching health and well-being from increasingly alternative, social and community based methods will gain more traction in libraries and other similar environments. Until then, if nothing else, my trainee library cats have reminded me of the other ways we can work harder within the profession to keep standards high – and that’s something worth checking out every time.
So I don’t mind telling you, but (like everyone) I made a lot of New Year’s resolutions this year – I was really ready to get into a new routine and start 2017 as I mean to go on. I was going to get up at 6am Monday to Friday and bask in the morning; have leisurely coffee and pet my cats (and more importantly stop cutting it fine for work…) I was going to start as I mean to go on in terms of writing more; working properly on my Chartership rather than just snatching 20 minutes here and there; reading the CILIP magazine in-depth rather than just skimming it, and using its articles to spread library news in whatever way I can. And – apologies all round here – I was going to start as I mean to go on in relation to blogging: to write more posts as per our original Send in the Librarians manifesto and to spend more time exploring the fabulous posts and articles of my fellow WordPress bloggers.
Then last Friday – a mere five days into 2017! – I caught the flu. Today is the first day I’ve managed to face my laptop without a headache, and if you think that sounds like excitement then you should have seen me the first day I was well enough to get out of bed and have a shower! You know you’ve had the flu when you get excited about shampoo and hot water. So I’ve not started well with my endeavours, and I will admit that I was a bit sad not to be able to cement my new, optimistic routine more concretely before succumbing to the January bugs. Surprisingly though, whilst I may have been flat-out physically, my spirits have actually been boosted by still being able to discover something new and positive, despite initially feeling like everything was pointing in the opposite direction…
Because, unable to read or watch TV or do anything that didn’t involve burrowing beneath a duvet and pillow for almost four solid days, I discovered another unexpected library and literary gem: audio-books.
Yes, alright – not exactly undiscovered, audio-books have been around for decades (“books on tape” as my Grandma used to call them, all vowels strongly lilted with her Lancashire accent). But I have to be honest, I rarely stray from paper and gave up audio-books when I was about ten and my older sister moved out, taking her Walkman with her (except in the car on long journeys, when my parents would have to endure early Jacqueline Wilson and poorly abridged Disney stories blasting from the car speakers). I obviously promote our audio-books at work, as well as our growing e-audio book service and, again obviously, I’m aware of the benefits of audio-books in all formats for those who are visually impaired, or struggle with long-term illness or disability – these benefits are clearly immeasurable. I also see the benefits first-hand at work from promoting audio-books to “reluctant” younger readers; hearing Roald Dahl or David Walliams read their story aloud to you when you’re a kid and don’t think books are cool is often a far more fun and convincing outlet than reading it yourself when you “really, REALLY don’t want to, Miss”.
However (aside from this work-related evidence) not being a particularly interested user of “talking books” myself, the rest of the audio-book thing just sort of passed me by.
Until now – and I can thank the flu (probably all it will ever be thanked for, aside from beating our Martian invaders in War of the Worlds). Unable to do anything except proffer paracetamol and water, and (probably) fed up of my moaning, my partner fetched his tablet and logged into his Audible account. And lo! Suddenly books were back at my fingertips again – it was beautiful. Now, I’m not one to promote Audible over the free, utterly fantastic audio and e-audio book resources that can undoubtedly be offered by your local library service(!), but the benefit of my partner subscribing to this expanding American trend meant that suddenly I had an “in” – an alternative literary outlet and it was rather surprisingly soothing to have someone reading aloud to me… And then, a couple of days later, when I was strong enough to use the tablet on my own (pathetic, I know…) to search the net for my library service’s online catalogue of e-audio books and download the app, I suddenly had even more options with which to soothe both my flu-ridden, aching soul and my conscience (come on, I’m a librarian, I just can’t bring myself to condone Audible and the like out loud… at least not quite yet.)
There are non-fiction books that I would probably never plough through myself in “paper” form, or even as e-books because they still feel like too much effort (weird what we find off-putting, isn’t it?) but using e-audio books, I astonishingly feel more drawn to them now. Case in point: “The Year of Living Danishly” by Helen Russell, which I just started and finished whilst ill as an e-audio book. I’ve seen copies both at work and in bookshops a lot, but just didn’t fancy it enough to pick up and read (I’m very much a fiction-biography-literary history comfort zone sort of woman). But listening to it? The whole book took on the form of just another documentary, like listening to Radio 4, and it was suddenly so much easier for me to engage. And it was interesting – did you know that Lego (originating from Denmark) is technically the world’s largest tyre manufacturer??
I like to think I’m very open-minded and also very much a professional – namely in that I’m the sort of person who may not love or utilise every resource that it’s in their job to promote, but who still finds ways to do so creatively and accessibly for all those who may need it. But honestly, in this case? Well, I’m happy to be proven wrong. There is much more potential for the everyday reader to give audio/e-audio books a try and adapt your reading style than I ever realised before – and, unlike me, I urge you not to wait foolishly until you’re lain up with the flu to find out. There are lots of pro’s to balancing the audio-book alongside your regular reading habits – for a start, someone else does the hard work of reading it all, so you can just sit/lie there and visualise. Lazy? Maybe, but I found that for a short while it was actually sort of a nice break.
Time-wise, they also help fitting in those books that you just don’t always prioritise, like me with non-fiction. Talking about my “new” discovery with family visiting to bestow chicken soup and hot tea (okay, maybe not quite so Walton-esque…) I’m suddenly realising that these are the sorts of benefits to a broader audience that I never really took the time to notice before, but easily could have done if I’d paid attention to even some of those closest around me. My partner and my brother (amazingly, one of the most “reluctant” adult readers I know!) listen to them in the car on most of their respective commutes to and from work, and I can now completely see how that is a major advantage – just plug in your device and off you go, wiling away your journey learning/listening to something new. It sounds especially good if you’re like me and find that my usual morning mood is not cut out for the frustrating, inanely chirpy radio presenters (at 7.30am, really!?), or music generally… And my mother-in-law, it turns out, listens to them whilst she’s sewing or ironing – another good outlet that I can see being useful (especially the ironing part – I don’t mind ironing but wow, can it be dull…)
My library service lends audio-books in CD form for three weeks, fully renewable, for little more than £1. Children’s audio-books are less than that and some UK public library services can now even loan you the basic mp3 player with individual titles already fully loaded – all you need to do is plug in your headphones. And the majority (like mine) will allow loans for free if you have medical documentation etc. that demonstrates visual impairment. More importantly, in line with the growing demand for e-books, library services across the UK (and beyond) will also offer completely free downloads of e-audio books that incur no late fees, no risk of losing any discs and are openly accessible to everyone. All you need to do is download the free app to the device of your choice – tablet, smartphone, laptop, old-school dial-up broadband computer…
And okay, I’m not saying that your local public library will be able to provide every audio-book title you’ll ever want, 100% guaranteed, but neither can they do that with every physical book. To me, it’s more a fantastic starting point to experiment and dabble in a literary world that I’ve had little involvement with since I was ten, listening to cassette tapes of Nancy Drew and The Three Investigators on my elder sister’s Walkman. So thank you flu – I guess that’s my first lesson for 2017: things may not always go exactly the way you planned, but there’s usually a silver lining; a new discovery… And you’ve prompted me to make a new resolution, alongside all my others: that this year will be my “Year of Reading Dangerously”, trying new types of book or ways of reading them (like audio-books and, dare I say it, maybe even e-books?) and perhaps finally getting through that copy of To The Lighthouse I’ve started three times in the last five years, and never once finished. I’m also going to try to support this venture using libraries everywhere and of every type – got to have a challenge to see you through the year, right?
So, got any books on your shelves that have been there for years but don’t quite ever seem to make it to the top of your reading list? Any similar classic novels that, no matter how many times you persevere with Chapter One, are just not going anywhere? Try re-inventing your method of reading them – and check out what your local library has to offer at the same time. It might surprise you…
(And if you have any plans to “Read Dangerously” in 2017, I’d love to know!)
A friend recommended this to me whilst we were stood in Waterstones waiting for someone and, knowing first-hand the amazing quality of Ali Shaw’s previous novels, I was dismayed later on to find we didn’t have a copy in our library service catalogue. So I pushed a request through – and had so much surprisingly positive feedback after the novel hit our shelves, I figured I’d try it out while I was at it (despite it’s size in hard-back, which is like a brick). And I’m glad I did: more so than any of his previous novels, this book wowed me. Whilst reading, you can see it hails from so many different influences and yet is somehow still completely unique and ground-breaking – it’s hard to sum up in just one go!
And yet I’m going to have to try, because when I finished this book yesterday, all I wanted to do was go out and tell everyone passing to read it. I wanted to write to Prize/Award committees and tell them all to put it on every longlist and shortlist going. It is honestly that good – although I realise that if you haven’t read any Ali Shaw before, this could be a leap of faith… But I doubt you’ll be disappointed.
It’s a mix of genres, and as I said before, a rather epic tome for a “general fiction” novel at almost 500 pages, but the premise is strong. One night, without warning, huge trees spring up in every discernible inch of space to turn the entire UK into a swathe of forest – buildings are destroyed, homes reduced to rubble, roads smashed and people killed every way you turn. No one knows how far this new world of green spreads (across Europe? America? The entire world?), or where it came from, and no one knows how they will survive. It’s cli-fi (climate change sci-fi) of a new order and Shaw wastes no time in drawing you into this eerily familiar and yet strangely intimidating world of nature gone to the extreme.
In this bold new world, we find an unlikely protagonist – English teacher Adrien Thomas, who has never done much with his life and clearly struggles with some form of severe nervous anxiety (having lain in bed night after night, trying to imagine how many bed-sheets he would need to climb out the window to safety in the event of a house-fire, you can imagine how well he responds to this apocalyptic nightmare…), and whose wife (Michelle) is separated from him in Ireland. Encouraged by a to-begin-with-infuriating, nature-loving gardener and her sixteen-year old techie son, whom he meets whilst trying to find a way to survive in his shattered town, he tentatively is pushed into setting out to find Michelle. The apocalyptic, somewhat self-exploratory journey that follows is full of untold danger but what I liked most about it is that it isn’t the predictable “lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” trip through the forest to reunite Adrien with his estranged wife and turn him into a hero.
Yes, the novel explores what it means to be a survivor and the fragile bonds that people forge in times of crisis, as well as how we respond to nature when left with our defences down. But the entire novel is also much darker than that, and the biggest dangers the characters come across as they try to reach the coast actually stem from their fellow human survivors, plunged into a lawless world where humanity is no longer top of the food chain. And behind all these threats, there are other things lurking in the trees. Things that follow Adrien and his companions – things that watch, and whisper, and are part of something bigger and more terrifying than anything else the forest hides. And they see everything.
I doubt you will find a better novel to kick-start 2017. This book hooked me in and was impossible to put down – there were so many moments where I was almost yelling at the characters, I was so invested in their safety! And it will make you cry in places (just a word of warning…) Hats off to you, Ali Shaw – this is a dystopian novel with a difference that is well-worth discovering.
So I’ve mentioned in a couple of posts that I recently injured my shoulder – it has slowed me down a surprising amount for what is only a small injury (I at least haven’t broken anything) but one of the most frustrating impacts is that reading is suddenly hard because I’ve been finding it hard to sit for long periods (and stand for long periods too, but that is less likely a position for comfortable reading…) Because of this, I’ve been reluctant to pick up a novel over the last couple of weeks – it’s hard to focus when the achey pain kicks in. This initially was devastating to me, as I’m an avid fiction reader above everything else. The newspaper enjoyed a happy resurrection for a little while, but then I remembered why I don’t like to read them so much now – the news contained within usually makes me either angry, despondent or miserable to alternate degrees, so it’s found its sad way back to the graveyard of the recycle bin once more.
And then, browsing my own bookshelves (which are eclectic to say the least; one of the perils of being a librarian is that you either enforce the same alphabetising/Dewey system back at home in your personal collection, or you’re so sick of adhering to that every single day at work that, at home, all chaos reigns… I fall into the latter category. I wonder how Stephen King would feel to know he shares a shelf with John Wyndham, or Susan Hill paired up with Philip Pullman?), I stumbled across an unread short story collection. Wow, had I forgotten the joys of the short story. Compact, satisfying, engaging, thought-provoking… All the happy results of completing a novel, and yet they’re quick. They’re perfect for short reading hits during a busy day, or something digestible if you’re feeling restless, or a replica reading sensation if you’re unable to lounge on the sofa all afternoon due to illness or injury – as I’m currently experiencing. And, best of all, if you know any “reluctant” readers, or those who say they “love to read, but just don’t have the time”, they make the perfect Christmas gift.
So in celebration, and in case any of you are going through similar phases where only a short story would do, here is a Wessex Librarians’ recommendation of our Top Five short story collections – happy reading!
Wow, another two weeks have flown by and it’s almost mid-December already. With one shoulder still more than a little worse for wear, I’ve actually found the last month hard to get through – unbelievably slow, having to do all sorts of things left-handed that I’ve never struggled with before (like scraping the ice off my car, stirring soup…) It’s amazing how tired I feel just from a small shoulder injury. Although my libraries are busy places, particularly the big main library in town, so when you’re restricted in movement it probably doesn’t help to be rushing around and leading the charge on community activities, staffing, building maintenance – especially when you can’t raise one arm above your head…
It’s not just the shoulder issue though – it’s felt like a strange month generally here. November saw Christmas arrive (at least according to every commercial enterprise under the sun) and the vast majority of customers coming in over the last few weeks has seemed exceptionally stressed, all of them telling us that they “must” get their Christmas shopping done by 30th November. “Why must you?” I felt like asking. Because it’s ridiculous, frankly, if you think about it. I mean, absolutely fine if you’re the sort of person who has to have that level of pre-organisation, and you do it every year regardless of what the shops tell you. But if you’re giving in because of all the commercial peer-pressure, isn’t that just scary?
I have a house rule: no present-buying before December, no mince pie eating before December, essentially no Christmas related shenanigans of any sort before December. Because from 1st December, you have three whole weeks to get organised, and it should be enjoyable – not pressurised or something to “get out of the way”, as people kept telling us when they came into the library in a frenzy of returning books before heading to the next shop for more rushed present-buying on 21st November. We didn’t put any Christmas decorations up until Monday 5th December in our main library, and on the town high street we were like a safe haven to everyone who still believes in the shockingly traditional “Christmas in December”.
Although, as the weather gets colder and wetter and just generally more unpleasant, it becomes clear that we are a safe haven in more ways than that. Our regular homeless crew are starting to frequent again, using our public toilet to wash and our newspaper room to stay dry. They’re behaving this year (so far), hopefully learning from the strict example we set last year that starting fights and drug-dealing from our public loo isn’t the way to stay in the library’s good books. But it still makes me sad that this is all they have left. We’re doing our best, but we have no provision or training to offer further help than a dry place to sit. We offered them to stay at our monthly coffee morning, so they could at least have a drink and listen to the school choir singing, but (probably understandably) they don’t enjoy big crowds of “normal” customers. We’ll offer again on 23rd December, when we plan to give out mince pies and mulled fruit tea to all customers visiting as our way of wishing a “Merry Christmas” to everyone, but again I doubt they’ll accept. It’s a hard thing to witness, especially against the back-drop of commercialism that has been our high street since mid-November.
Yes, I’ve tried making links with the local support group for homelessness, drug and alcohol addictions, but all our regulars are already known to them and refusing the help. Likewise we have a good working relationship with the community police, and I plan on building a better level of communication with our neighbours at the Salvation Army, but resources are limited and so is time. So we have to keep trying the small things.
I believe very much that our small gestures – not just to this vulnerable group of people but to all our different types of library customer – make a big difference, especially at this time of year. Which is why I’ve also felt funny this month at the release of the Government’s latest “initiative” to support libraries: “Libraries Deliver“, leading into the “Libraries: Opportunities for Everyone” fund. On the face of it, in the Foreword and the Context sections particularly, it seems to share at least my understanding of what public libraries – or at least good public libraries (and believe me, I’ve seen my share of pretty poor ones over the last six years) – are delivering now and should continue to be focused on going forward: “As a locally accountable service, they are well-placed to respond to local needs and issues. They not only provide access to books and other literature but also help people to help themselves and improve their opportunities, bring people together, and provide practical support and guidance. Libraries can have a critical role in helping people to realise their potential, and especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds“.
Libraries Deliver: Targeted Services
But then, as I eagerly read on into the “Vision”, “How we’ll achieve this” and “How we’ll take this forward” sections, I was pretty dismayed to find that it essentially just covers everything we (at least, again, the good libraries) are already doing. And that made me want to cry, because what should have been a clear, helpful and rallying call to action – a plan in other words – just wasn’t there. Instead, it states a pledge for the “DCMS and Libraries Taskforce [to set] up a £4 million Libraries: Opportunities for Everyone fund (administered by Arts Council England) to pilot innovative activities in public libraries in England to support all parts of society, including the most deprived […] Projects will be shaped based on proposals to tackle local needs and priorities.” As the Guardian points out very aptly in their covering article, “Not only does it fail to address the central issues of book stock, closures and opening hours, it amounts to less than £31,000 each if spread between the 131 library authorities.”
Were that to be the case, the money allocated is barely even a third of what we have been instructed as a service by our council authority to save over the coming financial year. That we would have to submit a proposal to even consider being allocated any money at all seems uniquely unhelpful – we already bid and submit proposals for as many resources, participatory projects and support as we can realistically achieve, and these are limited because of the legal restrictions being part of a council authority impose.
And yet, that I could suck up and live with. Call me a cynic, but I’ve never really believed that public libraries are at the forefront of the Government’s concerns, especially not the given the Conservative government we’ve had for the last six years. Because for those last six years I have worked hard to provide as many things as possible now listed in the Libraries Deliver proposal, all with limited central and local government support; for the last 18 months as a district manager, I have made my libraries successful by following the very same approach. It isn’t exactly a new concept, or a surprise, to learn that central funding will continue to be limited.
No, what really topped the strange sensation of this last month off – or rather, what really made me want to weep with frustration – was the Guardian covering article itself, and the author responses to it. The predominant tone of the article was in support of a library stereotype that no longer exists: “It is great to talk about community hubs, but in the end books are at the heart of libraries.” Yes, books and reading and literacy are a key focus for us, but shockingly Nicola Morgan and the majority of authors mentioned are missing the fundamental point: our community is the heart of us. If they didn’t use us, we wouldn’t exist. If we didn’t exist, they wouldn’t be supported – it’s a mutual relationship, and good, professional, dedicated public libraries in today’s world recognise that this is centred on understanding and assisting with many different, varied needs. We will always be about books, I don’t deny that – but we are now also about so much more: furthering skills, reducing social isolation, educating, assisting, improving mental health… All those small things that amount to much bigger outcomes.
It shocked me that the most publicly vocal of our supporters – famous celebrity authors and others – like the Society of Authors, like the Guardian themselves, those who can offer a voice for libraries into the media and the wider public who don’t read political reports – are missing this crucial point and still perpetuating a stereotype of libraries as silent, lofty, hallowed halls of reading (or “oasis of quiet” as Nicola Morgan so poetically puts it). It then shocked me more to realise that the government – who are essentially offering us face-value support only at this moment in time – demonstrated better understanding of what public libraries are now than those who are supposed to be the ones using us and championing us.
Like I say, it’s been a strange month. I just have to hope that by focusing on our small things and trying to break down these barriers one by one, we can start to change our image and demonstrate to those who are supposed to be helping us – government and others alike – that we really are the heart of our communities. As the “Libraries Deliver” report rather surprisingly says, “We need to significantly improve the image of public libraries and people’s awareness of the wide range of services libraries provide and benefits they bring. We’ll do this at 2 levels:
I fully agree. And it starts at the roots. So I think it will be my New Year’s resolution to start spreading the word as far afield as possible – it would be great if you could make it yours too, and start telling everyone and anyone what your public library does, and what it means to you and your community. Because, like I said before, it’s the small things that make a bigger difference.
Libraries Deliver: Libraries for Everyone
Send in the Librarians 