I've really liked a lot of the innovations in libraries during my tenure in them over the last 30 years. Do I want to go back to manually filing cards in the catalog? Not really, though it gave me a physical experience of entries in a catalog that mere coding will never replace.
Nobody likes waiting in lines either. I like self checkout, both at the supermarket and at the library. It's not that I don't want to talk to the friendly clerks, it's just that I like doing things for myself more.
These are great library labor saving devices which making working in and using libraries more enjoyable. Like any labor saving approaches, the point is not to reduce work, but to redirect it to better purpose. I advocate spending more time in reading and research and less in the scut work that wastes time.
I do still think it's important for everyone to learn how to use books, especially printed reference books such as indexes and encyclopedias. There is still much that is printed and not available on the internet. As wonderful as it is, not everything can be found (and properly authenticated) in Wikipedia.
Innovative technology can often improve access, but a dependence on it alone, eschewing printed material can be as much of a barrier to complete and trustworthy research as an ignorance of technology. If libraries forget to advance the cause of good research practices, they do a disservice to their constituents. No one really enjoys making the kids eat their vegetables, and in the same way, it's less sexy to push books than show off the latest database, but for those of us responsible to the reading community, we can't abdicate our place in their education with impunity.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
Fishing for Information
"Give a man a fish, and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he'll feed his family for life," or something to that effect, is a well known saying. I've also heard it as "Give a man a fish, and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll spend all day in a boat drinking beer."
Be that as it may, the principle is that teaching someone to do for themselves is better in the long run than doing temporary things for people. I have often thought that it would be better for libraries to spend their resources teaching the great masses of people to do their own searching and making it largely unnecessary to have reference librarians. I do see, though, that in many ways this is inefficient. Part of the economics of specialization is that it is expensive to maintain a person in training for any length of time.
Each time a system changes, there are retraining costs for users. If a library has, say, 5 staff members who routinely use databases to search materials for the public, this means every time a major change takes place, 5 people from that organization will need to be apprised. However, if three thousand nearby patrons need to know this, it becomes a logistical problem several orders of magnitude larger. So if fishing is just baiting a hook with a worm and sticking it in a pond (the equivalent of using Facebook for viewing pictures of cats doing funny things), then no extensive training is needed. But catching a whole school of tuna is several orders of magnitude larger a job, requiring much more extensive equipment and training. It would not be effective to have a whole bunch of people in rowboats with fishing poles trying to catch a tuna each.
This is not to say that it is not at all effective or reasonable to teach people about using the internet. A recreational fisherman (my father was an inveterate amateur trout fisherman) can benefit from lessons in the ins and outs of types of bait, lures, and the like. But there comes a point at which it becomes more efficient to leave it to the experts. My father just fished for the fun of it -- he would give away his catches or do catch and release, but when it came time to make dinner, frozen fish from the supermarket served the purpose just fine, and no cleaning was required (I think my mother had something to do with that approach).
This is leads me to surmise that once the need for information becomes mission critical or the source is prohibitively expensive or elusive, then it needs the intervention of a professional, a librarian. Give a man a book, he reads for a week. Give a man a library card, and he reads forever.
Be that as it may, the principle is that teaching someone to do for themselves is better in the long run than doing temporary things for people. I have often thought that it would be better for libraries to spend their resources teaching the great masses of people to do their own searching and making it largely unnecessary to have reference librarians. I do see, though, that in many ways this is inefficient. Part of the economics of specialization is that it is expensive to maintain a person in training for any length of time.
Each time a system changes, there are retraining costs for users. If a library has, say, 5 staff members who routinely use databases to search materials for the public, this means every time a major change takes place, 5 people from that organization will need to be apprised. However, if three thousand nearby patrons need to know this, it becomes a logistical problem several orders of magnitude larger. So if fishing is just baiting a hook with a worm and sticking it in a pond (the equivalent of using Facebook for viewing pictures of cats doing funny things), then no extensive training is needed. But catching a whole school of tuna is several orders of magnitude larger a job, requiring much more extensive equipment and training. It would not be effective to have a whole bunch of people in rowboats with fishing poles trying to catch a tuna each.
This is not to say that it is not at all effective or reasonable to teach people about using the internet. A recreational fisherman (my father was an inveterate amateur trout fisherman) can benefit from lessons in the ins and outs of types of bait, lures, and the like. But there comes a point at which it becomes more efficient to leave it to the experts. My father just fished for the fun of it -- he would give away his catches or do catch and release, but when it came time to make dinner, frozen fish from the supermarket served the purpose just fine, and no cleaning was required (I think my mother had something to do with that approach).
This is leads me to surmise that once the need for information becomes mission critical or the source is prohibitively expensive or elusive, then it needs the intervention of a professional, a librarian. Give a man a book, he reads for a week. Give a man a library card, and he reads forever.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Spinster with a Bun
The classic image of the librarian is a stern lady with her hair tied up in a bun. Like a character from the Commedia dell'arte, it embodies a set of characteristics and expectations. These stereotypes are a kind of shorthand for people's fears and desires while relating to people in these social roles.
Let's face it, there is something a little intimidating about a library, no matter how you dress it up. It is usually fairly quiet, often capacious, at once private and public, each person artificially ignoring the other as they try to accomplish their objectives with as little interference from others as possible. Questions linger in the air about how loud one can talk, about how long one can have a book, about which chair one can use.
Perhaps the stern maiden lady is an expression of our desire for certainty. She is there as much to control the behavior of others as she is to admonish us. The unruly see her as oppressive -- the timid see her as protection. Libraries, as expressions of published and authorized thought, overseen by hyper-virtuous priestesses are as much totems of convention as they are avenues for exploration.
Maybe, too, like the nursery, they are safe places to 'play'. If one is nestled in an easy chair with a book, reading of adventures, the librarian becomes part nanny, another role for the 19th century spinster woman, telling you when it is time to go, not to make too much noise, giving you the right things to read.
Too, the woman portrayed seems always unmarried. You don't see many boyfriends, girlfriends, or husbands dropping by the library to chat with her. She is married to her work, a professional through and through, autocratic and dictatorial. Her authority is absolute and unquestioned.
So it's possible that, at least in the United States, the image of the librarian serves as a touchstone for our feelings about libraries. We are repelled by the austerity, but assured by the dependability. In reality, not all librarians are spinster women. Many are married, and some are men. It is not the representatives of the profession that perpetuate the image, but the emotional needs of the public that fuel its ongoing popularity.
Let's face it, there is something a little intimidating about a library, no matter how you dress it up. It is usually fairly quiet, often capacious, at once private and public, each person artificially ignoring the other as they try to accomplish their objectives with as little interference from others as possible. Questions linger in the air about how loud one can talk, about how long one can have a book, about which chair one can use.
Perhaps the stern maiden lady is an expression of our desire for certainty. She is there as much to control the behavior of others as she is to admonish us. The unruly see her as oppressive -- the timid see her as protection. Libraries, as expressions of published and authorized thought, overseen by hyper-virtuous priestesses are as much totems of convention as they are avenues for exploration.
Maybe, too, like the nursery, they are safe places to 'play'. If one is nestled in an easy chair with a book, reading of adventures, the librarian becomes part nanny, another role for the 19th century spinster woman, telling you when it is time to go, not to make too much noise, giving you the right things to read.
Too, the woman portrayed seems always unmarried. You don't see many boyfriends, girlfriends, or husbands dropping by the library to chat with her. She is married to her work, a professional through and through, autocratic and dictatorial. Her authority is absolute and unquestioned.
So it's possible that, at least in the United States, the image of the librarian serves as a touchstone for our feelings about libraries. We are repelled by the austerity, but assured by the dependability. In reality, not all librarians are spinster women. Many are married, and some are men. It is not the representatives of the profession that perpetuate the image, but the emotional needs of the public that fuel its ongoing popularity.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)