Nicholas Basbanes: the Librarian’s Librarian, the Bibliophile’s Blessing and the Book Lover’s Delight

Although it has become more the norm than the exception, in the world of publishing and professional library circles to declare a particular type of maniacal allegiance to all things digital, it might behoove—if nobody else—librarians of all stripes to familiarize themselves with the writings and philosophy of Nicholas Basbanes. Lest the reader of this post mistakenly assume that I have great disdain for digital copy or might be the international chief of LLUATT (Literary Ludites United against Technological Transformation), it is fair to mention that I am very intrigued and captivated by new technology and most computer-based processes. The Ipad and Kindle are at the top of my wish list for 2010-2011. However, the tactile experience of reading and handling a printed book still (from my perspective) trumps the eyeball numbing practice of reading from a computer screen or mobile phone. Be that as it may, I contend that it is altogether blasphemous for “ANY” librarian to silently think or publicly utter: “I am not interested in books and don’t like to read.” Shocked? Dumbfounded? Believe it or not, I have heard many a librarian and library school student intent on plying the next 30-years of their life in this noble profession confess the aforementioned drivel.

But for those who do have or who do not have these types of anti-intellectual and Cro-magnon man leanings, Nicholas Basbanes’s books are must-reads. With titles like “A Gentle Madness: Bibliophiles, Bibliomanes and the Eternal Passion for Books,” “Patience and Fortitude: Wherein a Colorful Cast of Determined Book Collectors, Dealers and Librarians Go About the Quixotic Task of Preserving Legacy,” A Splendor of Letters: The Permanence of Books in an Impermanent World,” Every Book Its Reader: The Power of the Printed Word to Stir the World and “Editions & Impressions: My Twenty Years on the Book Beat” Basbanes draws us into the magical world of the printed word, and ignites in the heart of the librarian, archivist and casual reader a desire to know more about printed books.

A former investigative journalist, literary editor and book editor Basbanes is well-equipped to handle the subject he has become well-known for. For librarians looking to become a bit more knowledgeable, a tad more erudite; or the bibliophile sans book lover looking to show off their cerebral prowess to random library patrons, I highly recommend the writings of Nicholas A. Basbanes.

“Hey, Mr. Library Man”

I believe that all public servants—particularly those that work for a government municipality—should know the communities and people in which they serve. Many years ago, prior to the wide spread advent of Wal-Mart and gargantuan shopping malls housing movie theaters and theme parks, shop owners, mail carriers, garbage men—and I suspect librarians—often knew the people they served, on a first name basis and at the very least by the last name. The only geographical locale in the United States where this seems to have not have been the norm was in New York City cab driver and even the average harried pedestrian walking the busy streets had no problem referring to everyone they encountered as “buddy”. “Hey buddy, get outta the way” or “buddy, I told ya once I don’t have no money—get lost ya bum!”

Of course the practice of knowing the name of a recalcitrant child or ill-tempered teenager that has hacked into the online catalog or library website has its benefits. Such as threatening Day-quan, Shyheem, Bobby and Susie with library banishment (which means no computer use) for the school year! The plural “hey you” might not be satisfactory in honing in on the aforementioned singular culprit.

There is essentially one way I have gotten to know people and businesses in the community my branch library is located in—ride the bus. Taking public transportation allows any municipal government employee to see and experience the good, the bad and ugly of people and place. The downside of taking the bus could possibly be seeing the patron that has been a public nuisance to library staff and other users at large. But that is a risk one takes.

Names are useful in that they ascribe a unique set of traits and attributes to human beings. You need “a name” of some sort to get a driver’s license, passport, a mortgage, bank account and library card. Even though Malcolm X’s last name only encompassed one letter he nonetheless was privy to a legal, parentall name of Malcolm Little. Also, having a first name probably prevented my mother and first grade teacher from using the locution “hey you” all the time. At other times being a nameless librarian has the perk of being able to read a magazine or book in a group of people without being hounded for an autograph because your side profile was mistaken to be Lebron James or a noted rap artist.

Much to my chagrin (at times) nameless people on the DATA bus and at the downtown transportation do recognize me on occasion. They might say: “Hey, don’t I know you?” or “don’t you work at the lie-berry (e.g. library)?” Depending on my mood, temperament or time of the day I might reply in the affirmative. However, the most creative moniker I have received to date is Library Man—as in “heeyy Mr. Library Man!!” The patron/bus rider probably knew both my first and last names that were prominently displayed on the I.D. badge all municipal employees are required to wear during working hours.

The aforementioned style of a “nickname” seems to have caught on with the average American citizen these days. More intriguing is the fact that the market share and popularity of poorly behaved actors, athletes and rappers appears to coincide with being the owner of a recognizable nick name like Tiger, Dr. J., Jay-Z, A.I., 50 Cent or Kid Rock. Of course most of the white-collar criminals on Wall Street responsible for the recent recession and their non-Wall Street counterparts already in jail often go by the name on their birth certificate. But what about the not so moral (and somewhat older) librarians that get caught in the back of parked vehicles with seventeen year old school kids. Their given names and the given names of their spouses usually end up in the newspaper. Maybe, just maybe, more of us librarians should begin to use a nickname. However, I don’t know if my own nickname “Library Man” will pass muster to become a memorable mainstay in American popular culture. The librarian blogger “Library Man” aka Michael Porter seems to have developed a good following but as for this library man well… Only time will tell.

You Are Not a Gadget, but We Sure Like Them

VIP computer scientist and virtual reality pioneer Jaron Lanier has penned a recently published, well-debated, frequently criticized and simultaneously praised tome entitled You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto.

Culled primarily from previous written articles and his own online commentary, the scientist/musician Lanier challenges Baby boomer luddites and their post 2.0 techno-geek grand children to weigh their infatuation with computers, the Internet and social media against the humanistic good that he believes should be derived from the conscientious use of technology.

Some of Lanier’s critics—and there are many these days—say that his book is not a manifesto in the truest sense, but a biased rant against technology. In fact Mike Masnick of the techie blog Tech Dirt goes so far as to call the 50-year old Lanier “old and crotchety” for espousing rational skepticism about mash-ups, Twitter, Wikipedia, Open Source, Linux, Face Book, Myspace and the Hive Mind. But the technology that receives Lanier’s philosophical left hook is Google and Wikipedia. But like any good counter puncher they have responded in kind—at an earlier time of course. In 2001 in an interview with the Guardian newspaper Lanier contends that computational technology’s primary purpose is only to “enhance human life and opportunity” not to worship it. Lanier has also emphatically stated that people “are far too in love with computers.”

Although the book is intended for a wide range of readers even the most byte-driven critic will be impressed by Lanier’s ability to speak cogently to computer enthusiast and non-enthusiast alike. As a librarian I consider myself fairly well-read and culturally aware but words and euphemisms like Digital Maoism, numinous neoteny, noosphere and realistic computationalism sent me in search of both Websters New Collegiate Dictionary and C.T. Onion’s Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology. I later discovered “numinous” means “divine” or “supernatural” and “neoteny” means “retention of juvenile characteristics in the adults of a species.”

Lanier’s tome might not be for everybody but if you are inclined to chat on Facebook, love your I-Phone or I-Pad, like to think and debate highly complex subject matter, or are just downright curious about everything you might want to pick up You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto. Otherwise just go online and just read the pro and con issues.

Paperback Dreams, A Must See Film for Book Lovers

“PAPERBACK DREAMS is the story of two landmark independent bookstores and their struggle to survive. The film follows Andy Ross, owner of Cody’s Books, and Clark Kepler, owner of Kepler’s Books, over the course of two tumultuous years in the book business.

In the last decade, competition from big chains and the internet has put booksellers in a vice. Half the independent bookstores in America closed in the 1990s. But in the 1960s, bookstores like Cody’s and Kepler’s redefined intellectual life, democratized literature, and helped launch a counterculture. Publishers were putting the classics into cheap paperback editions for the first time. Literature—once the purview of academics and elites—was suddenly affordable for the masses. Most established booksellers dismissed the new editions as drugstore pulp. Their indifference allowed a new kind of store to emerge, and it opened the door to a new breed of bookseller.”