There was a bit of brouhaha at a local library this past
week. Large enough to make the news and
larger still to spark a debate on a review of the official library policies.
A gentlemen had become rather upset with those around
him. They were making more noise than he
felt was permitted and let them know as much.
One group apologized, but the other asked where it stated they couldn’t
talk. The gentlemen pointed to a sign
that read “No Mobile Phones Allowed” but as they weren’t on their phones, they
said it didn’t apply and he was incorrect.
Things were getting rather heated when he left the area and decided to
check with the main desk.
As it turns out, there was no longer an expectation of
silence – at least, not here. The librarian
went on to explain that at an academic library (college, university) that the
expectation still existed. Where a
public library no longer held that same standard.
In my book The Stockings Were Hung, even I reference what I thought
to be the universal policy of near silence…
“We were trying to be as quiet as possible. There was no one around, but a charnel house
is one of those places you whisper. Like
a library. Or behind someone’s back.”
A charnel house is a place they store bodies or bones. In colder climates, this is where a body
would be housed during the winter. After
the spring thaw, it would be removed for burial.
Have the rules changed?
The argument at the library sparked a slew of comments on
social media. Some would go to their
graves believing there should be no talking, where others felt that libraries
have morphed over the years and conversation was more acceptable. Once upon a time, if you needed to do extensive
research, you had to trek to the library.
For me, that was normally for high school or college papers of some sort. I certainly appreciated the silence during
those times as it made it easier to get the work done. But…back in those days, the library was the
about the only place you could go to get that information. Now, I can research material for a book while
sipping wine on the back deck.
I remember walking up the steps of the Phillips Free Library
in Homer, New York when I was child. The
building was large and cold looking, the wooden front doors incredibly heavy,
and when you stepped inside you would face Ms. Baldwin. For the record, I can say I have no idea if
she was a nice woman or not – the only place I ever saw her was the library and
since you weren’t allowed to speak I couldn’t exactly ask her how her weekend
had been. Her hair was always pulled back
tight, she wore a wool blazer and matching wool dress that went down to her
ankles, and – quite honestly - she frightened the hell out of me.
Phillips Free Library in Homer, New York.
Back to the library, itself.
It was a place you simply didn’t speak.
It was almost a sacred tomb filled with books and assorted research
materials. Dimly lit with the same sort
of atmosphere as a funeral home. Today,
when I visit the library across the street from Hearst Tower, there are
computer rooms, labs, teaching centers, social networking areas. Heck…the book club I belong to meets there
each month and there are always lively (and sometimes loud) conversations on
the current selection.
The main library in Uptown Charlotte.
The vibe has completely changed. No longer dark and brooding, they are lively
and inviting. They almost seem to spark
conversation.
What do you think…?
Has the no (or low) talking rule outdated? Does it only apply to particular libraries?
Speaking of potentially outdated things…
In the midst of typing this update today, a vehicle slowly drive
past the front of the house. He tossed
what I thought was a bag of trash out the window and into the front yard. I made my way outside. I then spotted him throwing items into
everyone’s yard. Turns out, it wasn’t
trash - but phone books. So in a way, I
was correct. The book made its way from
the front yard and straight into the recycling bin.
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